Prince Galwaine knew the white hind was for him; she alone stood in the clearing, eyes deeply staring into his while the others of her kind looked away.

He raised his bow, pulled back with arrow set straight, but the dawn sent sun splinters to his aiming eye; he had to break the gaze to rub the shards away.

When looked again, the hind was gone; and in her place stood a woman, clothed and cloaked in white, a single braid down her back ornamented with dew drops, and aura’d by the rising sun.

For Sonya’s Week 35 TLT; photo by Rebecca Johnston – here’s a bigger version