Literature
honor before pride
Rut this year had been… quiet. Very quiet. Not in the sense of frequency, of course. Stags both of low and high blood still fought with each other and claimed their does as they did every single rut since the formation of the Isles, and one might say that they did so more than they had the year before. But what Mungo had noticed, in his season where he stepped away from the battles directly to act as observer, more stags fought with honor. This was good news to the pale stag. His horns were starting to get heavy for his head, and he did not wish to waste his energy breaking up fights that grew bloody or needlessly violent. He was on his own this afternoon; the cadets he would assist in training were released to rest up. Winter, even in this kingdom painted in green from the magic fostered within it, was still difficult for those without a glade to rest in. Earrann’s Rest became a place where stags of all ages and backgrounds enjoyed each other’s warm company, and Mungo was grateful
