A Tiny Swimmer Against The Wall
Tiny hooves paddled furiously against the dark green water, churning small white ripples around a spotted brown torso. The fawn let out a sharp, high-pitched bleat as the current pulled it toward the sheer concrete barrier.
From above, a man in a black cap leaned far over the ledge, extending a dry wooden branch down toward the animal’s snout.
The fawn pressed its nose against the stick, its ears pinned back flat against its head. Each time it tried to find footing, its hooves slipped against the slick concrete beneath the surface.
Its cries grew louder as the small body began to tilt sideways under the weight of waterlogging fur.
Kicking Off The Sandals
The branch shifted in the man’s grip, offering little leverage to lift the animal from above. He realized the stick would not be enough to pull the soaked fawn out of the canal.
He pulled the wood back onto the ledge, slipped his sandals from his feet, and let them tumble into the dirt.
His bare feet hit the surface with a loud splash as he dropped straight into the river channel.
Cold water rose past his waist, pushing his gray shirt against his ribs as he waded through the current. He moved carefully toward the corner where the fawn continued to paddle frantically.
He slid one open palm beneath the fawn’s white-spotted belly and cupped his other forearm securely around its chest.
Carrying The Weight Across The Bank
The fawn stopped kicking the moment his arms locked beneath its ribcage. Water dripped from its thin brown legs in steady streams as the man turned back toward the concrete wall.
He planted his bare feet against the submerged mossy edge and pushed upward against the drop.
With both arms cradling the soaked deer against his chest, he hauled his body up and over the lip of the concrete embankment.
He stepped into the tall green grass, walking away from the riverbank without stopping to retrieve his shoes.
His wet shorts brushed against thick fern leaves as he navigated through a cluster of fallen birch branches, looking for a dry path into the woods.
Returning To The Forest Floor
The fawn kept its head tucked firmly against his shoulder, blinking as drops of river water dried across its dark eyelashes.
Under the canopy of low-hanging green branches, the man slowly lowered his hips and bent his knees toward the dirt.
He rested the fawn’s small black hooves onto a bed of damp fallen leaves and wild strawberry ground cover.
He kept his hands flat against its wet flanks for two seconds, letting the small frame balance on its own legs.
His right hand gave one final, light brush across the fawn’s speckled spine before lifting away.
The fawn stood tall on the damp earth, turned its head toward the dense trees, kicked up a spray of dirt with its back legs, and bounded into the thick green underbrush.
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