Hoshor Plains The Winds of Notos!

The deer came closer. Talis tensed and licked his lips, disarmed by the creature’s cordial demeanor but intimidated by his presence otherwise. He was large—even bigger up close—and still moving a little erratically for the coyote’s tastes. The way he kept shaking his head and wielding those antlers made Talis warily think, Hokey Pokey, indeed…

Er, he blurted when the deer repeated an enthusiastic greeting, hi?

“My name’s Winston!” he declared, perfectly understandably, which was also part of what simultaneously enchanted and unnerved Talisman. He said a few other things, even paid the coyote a compliment, and Talis continued juggling the notions that he was dreaming, poisoned or possibly both.

Thanks? Why was everything coming out of his mouth a question? Er, nice to meet you, Winston. I think? Sorry, I don’t mean to be all weird, it’s just… My dad always told me not to play with my food but he never said anything about engaging it in polite conversation! I’ve never talked to a deer before, he admitted, a little wide-eyed, too hung up on that to introduce himself.