The Deer and the River

When Deer came to the river, he paused. The river was deep and wide, cold enough that chunks of ice still floated within.

“River,” said Deer. “Lower your waters, that I might pass.”

“Alas, I cannot,” said the river. “I carry the snowmelt down from the mountains and out to the sea.”

“Can you not refuse the water?” asked Deer.

“I am a river. I have not the freedom animals have, to travel wherever they wish, to stop or move on a whim.”

Deer glanced backwards and listened for the hounds. “We all have that which drives us,” he said.