Bambi

The forest was a vast playground for two fawns. Bambi, shy and wide-eyed, hid behind his mother while the mischievous girl teased him. That day was split in two: the crash of iron, the scream of his mother pushing him into the thicket, the smell of burning. The girl disappeared in smoke. "Prince," whispered the old deer, watching the son of the dead Princess lead the survivors to the distant ravines.

Years later, Bambi, majestic and crowned with horns, patrolled the border. He sensed her before he saw her. She stood in the clearing, with golden fur and a bold gaze.

“And I still see the same quiet guy,” she grinned.

Mating season was blossoming in their blood. Bambi, accustomed to the solitude of a guardian, suddenly realized he was ready to protect her.

But one night he heard a crackling sound – people. Twenty chains with torches.

"Go away. I'll hold them off," he ordered.

• No! I already ran away once and lost you for years!

He rushed into the thicket, leading the hunters after him. But she flew out of the bushes—a whirlwind of anger.

• I said I won't run away anymore.

People hesitated, seeing unity stronger than fear.