Short Story / A moose with a balloon in its teeth
Once, not too long ago, on a cold and frosty morning, a large, elderly moose known as Deniigi to his friends was making his slow, meandering way along a well-trodden pathway through the endless, rolling snowdrifts. As he walked, Deniigi pondered the nature of his world.
“I am an old moose,” he mused, “and in all my years I have not received the respect that surely is my due. For do I not grow a fine pair of antlers every year as grand and sturdy as anyone could wish for? And have I not sired strong calves and ensured the survival of my blood? And yet, it seems, this is not enough. There must be something I can do that will allow me to earn the admiration I so desire: to be remembered by generations of moose as the great one, the strong one, the wise one.”
For many, many years ago, the moose tribe had numbered in the thousands. They had been proud and strong, fearing no predators. The ancient warrior moose had used their antlers against dangerous foes, wolves, and bears, even humans. But the moose began to fight amongst themselves as pride and envy grew. The tribe became divided and scattered across the land until there were only a few small herds that had all but forgotten the old ways. They had forgotten their warrior ancestry and now lived in fear and suspicion of other beasts.
Deniigi continued along the path, thinking aloud his gloomy thoughts in this manner when, from the corner of his rheumy eye, he espied something bright on a branch poking out from the glistening snow. He approached it cautiously, for it cannot be said that Deniigi was a particularly brave moose, and discovered a spherical object seemingly floating above the branch, its tail tangled amongst the twigs, and it bobbed and danced as though trying to be free. Deniigi was impressed by its vivid colour: a golden yellow, not unlike the sun on a midsummer’s day.
He tried to engage the thing in conversation. “Excuse me, but do you need some assistance? You appear to be trapped.”
The object remained silent and merely let itself be buffeted by the breeze. Deniigi thought for a while and concluded that the yellow thing was just that: a thing, not a creature.
“This beautiful yellow ball which floats on the breeze would cause all to admire the one who possesses it,” Deniigi exclaimed, breathlessly.
And so he reached towards it, but when the object touched his nose, he could at once feel its strange, smooth skin resist his touch. The skin was stretched tautly and would not afford Deniigi a place to grasp it with his teeth, and, besides, it appeared to be quite delicate. Instead, he decided to take hold of its tail, which was still intertwined with the branch. Ever so carefully placing the tail between his teeth, Deniigi found that the yellow object could be freed easily with a gentle tug or two. Triumphantly, he set off to show the other moose his treasure and, no doubt, receive their admiration.
Unknown to Deniigi, his actions were being observed by the inquisitive, beady eyes of a raven. The raven was quite emaciated and undoubtedly it was suffering this cold, harsh winter. He watched Deniigi for some moments and then, apparently reaching a decision, flew after the old moose.
“Moose! What is that thing you hold between your teeth? Is it edible?” called the raven.
“No, I do not believe it is. I found this wonderful floating object and now it is mine. You are quite in awe I see,” replied Deniigi, delightedly.
The raven appeared to consider the bright yellow object. Eventually he spoke. “Friend moose, it is true. For who would not be in awe of one that can acquire a piece of the sun itself? My name is Saghani and I offer my services to you who, surely, must be mighty and invincible with such a treasure in your possession.”
“A piece of the sun? Invincible?” Deniigi was confused.
“Indeed, surely you have heard the legends of mighty warriors who were able to possess the sun and this made them invincible in battle. Clearly, you are such a warrior.”
The old moose stared hard at the piece of sun and tried to recollect the tales of the ancients he had heard from his mother all those years ago. The stories had been captivating and full of heroism and bravery; they had inspired the young Deniigi, although now he could not recall for what deeds those heroic moose of old came to be remembered. It was widely known that ravens had great storytelling abilities: perhaps this raven knew the tales of the ancients. Perhaps he was correct.
“Yes … I suppose I must be,” Deniigi replied. “Thank you, Saghani. I, Deniigi, will be sure to call upon your services in the future,” he added, grandly. He then continued on his way back to the herd, all the while relishing his newfound status of mighty warrior.
As he approached the herd, he saw that all the moose noticed his arrival, heralded as it was by his bright, bouncing yellow object.
“What are you holding in your teeth, old Deniigi?” the moose asked him.
He proudly raised his head and replied, “This is a piece of the sun which I have claimed for myself. Its powers have been transferred to me, making me an invincible warrior.”
The moose were all silent and then, as one, they burst into unrestrained laughter. “You are an old fool!” they exclaimed. “Where did you get that strange idea?”
Deniigi, doubting himself for a second, looked up and saw Saghani flying towards him, apparently in great distress.
“My friend Saghani, the raven, told me what this magnificent thing is. Here he is now. He will tell you.”
Saghani reached the herd of moose and landed inelegantly on the snow, gasping for breath. “Hurry … you must … hurry!” he sputtered. “Wolf! A wolf is coming. He is hungry. Only you can stop him Deniigi, mighty warrior!”
The herd of moose was both stunned and terrified. Some began to panic and stampede away from the direction Saghani had come. Others looked to Deniigi for leadership, hoping that this mighty warrior would save them all. Deniigi saw the wolf loping towards the herd. He saw the hunger in his eyes and the saliva dripping from his lolling red tongue. The moose’s old heart was gripped with fear but the piece of sun he held in his teeth reassured him. He looked up at it and its bright yellow colour made him feel strong, strong enough to fight off the wolf, even.
Bravely stepping forward to meet the oncoming adversary, Deniigi called out a challenge to the wolf.
“Stop! Do not come any closer, wolf! I am Deniigi, master of the sun and mighty warrior. I will not let you harm this herd.”
The old moose stood firm and proud and the wolf stopped in his tracks, suddenly wary of approaching. His gaze was transfixed by the bright yellow object. Slowly, he began to retreat from Deniigi, cringing and cowering as he went. Then, when he was a reasonable distance away, he turned on his tail and fled as fast as he could.
Behind Deniigi arose a great cheer from the moose. “Mighty warrior and hero! Deniigi is our hero!”
Deniigi realized that what the raven had said was the truth. His bright yellow piece of the sun had given him awesome strength and bravery and had helped him to protect his herd. He felt stronger and braver than he had ever done in his life and he knew for sure that he had finally attained the revered position in the herd he had so desperately craved.
“Fellow moose, we need never again fear another predator as long as I, Deniigi, am your protector and deliverer from harm.”
And with that the herd then turned their attention to celebrating, and all the moose had words of praise and admiration to offer old Deniigi.
Meanwhile, no one noticed Saghani quietly retreating from the herd in the same direction the wolf had taken. He flew swiftly and stealthily, making certain that none of the moose saw where he was going. He soon caught up with the wolf.
“Excellent work, Tikaani!” cried Saghani. “You have convinced those stupid moose of the power of the ‘piece of the sun’. What fools they are: perfect for my plan.”
“Raven, this scheme of yours had better work. I have dishonoured myself this one time, but understand this: my pack are starving. Were it not for that, I would have killed you long ago. But instead I must entrust their lives to you in the hope that this trick of yours will secure us a feast,” growled the wolf.
Saghani, too full of his own genius to be afraid of the wolf, replied, “Of course my plan will work. We are all starving this winter, but only I have the cunning to get not just one moose to eat but a whole herd! You must follow my every command. I will convince the moose further in order to engineer the final ambush. Your people should be very grateful to me.”
Tikaani sneered, displaying his long white fangs, and said, “Foolish bird. Without me you will have nothing. Carrion-eaters such as you sicken me. Be gone now and do not return until you are certain my people shall eat!”
At first the raven was affronted by the wolf’s lack of gratitude, but then the tiny part of him that was not yet consumed with conceit realized that the wolf, although dependent on him, was still a formidable adversary. Saghani quickly flew away, back to the herd of moose.
On reaching the herd he found that Deniigi was not exulting in the praise of his fellow moose, as Saghani had expected, but was instead standing alone, away from the others. His eyes, turned upwards, gazed steadily at the piece of the sun and his old head moved slowly from side to side, causing the piece of sun to gently bob to and fro.
“It truly is a thing of beauty, is it not? One can almost see the power radiating from it,” said Saghani.
“Hmm? Oh, yes, it is beautiful. But, has it really made me into a mighty warrior? Some of the moose believe the wolf turned away by chance,” replied Deniigi, distractedly.
“Nonsense! That wolf was terrified of you. The other moose are stupid if they cannot see that. But … surely you do not doubt your own power?” asked Saghani. “For if that is the case then perhaps you should not be the bearer of this piece of sun. Perhaps you should pass the power and the responsibility to another more … deserving?”
“There is none more deserving than I!” roared Deniigi. “All my life I have sought the respect I truly deserve and at last this is my chance to be admired and looked up to. I do not doubt that I have harnessed the power of the sun. In fact, I shall commit another act of bravery to prove my worth!”
If such a thing as a smile could be executed by a raven then that is what played itself now across Saghani’s beak. The greed was almost perceptible in his beady black eye and he puffed out his chest, mentally congratulating himself for his cunning plan. Regardless of the fact that Deniigi had given him this opportunity, Saghani imagined that it was due to his own genius that events were working in his favour and did not for a moment entertain the notion of fate.
“In the tales of old, a true hero would always prove his worth by undertaking an arduous and terrifying journey. He would venture into the underworld and be fearless in the face of death. He would convene with the spirits and return to the land of the living with the wisdom of the ancients. If you, Deniigi, were to complete such a challenge, truly you would be remembered forever as the most mighty and fearless moose of all.”
Deniigi looked both fearful and thrilled. Although going to the land of the dead was a truly terrifying prospect, it certainly sounded like the kind of heroic deeds performed by the brave moose of legends.
“There is little doubt that I would be able to carry out this task, since I am the sun-bearer,” Deniigi began, a little uncertainly, “but sadly there is no way for me to enter the underworld. The only passage there is through death,” he concluded.
“You are mistaken, my friend. There is another way. To reach the land of the dead, without dying, a hero must enter through a deep chasm which leads down into the depths of the earth and on into the underworld. There is pitch blackness in there and death will try to tempt the living to join his ranks of ethereal spirits but the sun-bearer need not fear, for the light of the sun will banish death and darkness,” said Saghani, almost melodramatically in his desire to sound portentous.
“But where is this chasm?” asked Deniigi.
Saghani hastily replied, “I believe I know where it might be found. In my travels through this land I have flown over a canyon at the base of the mountains north from here. At the far end of this canyon there is a vast opening in the wall. It is an ominous place. I am certain it must be the entrance to the underworld.”
Conscious of his earlier bold statement, Deniigi knew he must accept this challenge. With a mixture of emotions whirling about in his breast, the old moose reluctantly agreed to follow Saghani to the entrance to the underworld.
When it became known among the herd that old Deniigi was to journey north and face terrifying horrors in order to prove himself as a warrior, a great wave of excitement cascaded over them all. Such excitement and entertainment they had never witnessed before and all the moose wanted to be a part of it, to see whether the old moose would succeed or make a laughing stock of himself. And so, as Deniigi and Saghani set off to the northern mountains, the whole herd followed behind laughing and talking excitedly, eager for what lay ahead, much to Saghani’s delight, for until this moment the scrawny raven had not conceived of a way to entice the whole herd. That they were now following of their own accord was irrelevant to Saghani as he knew in his heart that it was his own ingenuity and brilliance bringing his schemes to fruition.
The journey was long and arduous, but the raven knew his skills would enable him to maintain the excitement and anticipation felt amongst the moose. Their strength was flagging due to the lack of good grazing but they nonetheless kept plodding on towards the entrance to the underworld. For in truth, although none of the moose gave voice to the thought, there was a unanimous feeling that this would be their final adventure, the last of their strength would be used up this winter and, since they were all fated to die, this seemingly absurd task which Deniigi had set himself was the last remnant of hope for the once proud herd. If Deniigi’s task was a failure, at the very least the moose might have one last spectacle to enjoy before they met their demise.
Saghani appeared to be uncertain of the direction in which the canyon lay and would often fly ahead of the herd telling them that he was checking his bearings. Of course, really the sly raven was flying to meet the wolves who were keeping pace with the herd; noses keen for the scent of the moose, mouths and stomachs growling in unison at the thought of the beasts they could soon be devouring.
The leader of the wolves consulted with Saghani, “How much farther to this canyon of yours? If my people do not eat soon, I fear they will be driven to madness through starvation. I can already sense that their restlessness is turning on each other. Soon they will not care what they eat, moose, raven … even fellow wolf.”
“You fret needlessly Tikaani, the canyon is not far from here and the moose will follow me anywhere now. I’m sure your wolves can last a little longer,” the insouciant raven replied. “Hmm, it is almost a shame that they must all die. I have them all bent to my will now: think of the possibilities…” Saghani muttered to himself.
With a movement so swift it was almost imperceptible, the wolf leader’s great paw swiped out at the bird, catching his tattered feathers on its sharp, deadly claws. The wolf did not intend to draw blood, but only to strike fear in the raven, and in this he was most successful.
“Silence, fool! When I tell you that my pack will turn to cannibalism, you listen to me! I do not know how much longer I can control them. I may be their leader, but hunger is a more powerful force than I.”
The wolf leader’s rage was palpable and Saghani trembled and weakly flapped his torn wings. As soon as he was able, the raven took to the sky and flew hastily back to the moose, never once looking behind him. But as his terror subsided his arrogance once again returned.
‘It seems that the wolves truly are descending into madness, for they are mad if they believe they can snare the moose without me,’ the deluded raven thought. And so he returned to the moose to continue leading them into his trap.
Exactly as the raven had described it, in the foothills of the mountains there was a long, deep canyon. For some reason the floor of the canyon, under the drifts of snow, was covered in verdant, lush grasses. The ground seemed to be rich and nourished somehow, unlike the rest of the country. The walls of the canyon rose sheer and steep and at the far end the moose could clearly see the cave that served as the entrance to the underworld. The dark cave seemed to yawn open like a great mouth displaying stalactite-teeth, which dotted the path down into the bowels of the earth. Deniigi stood still, staring down the canyon, all previous feelings of bravado drained from him. The canyon had an eerie atmosphere, both forbidding and yet strangely familiar and Deniigi felt as though this was surely the place of his demise. All the moose felt this same fear strike them, and for a while they could do nothing but stare in silence at this ill-omened place.
Saghani, unaffected by the heavy atmosphere of the canyon, looked around at the moose and knew that he must urge them onwards towards the cave.
“There is the entrance to the underworld! Come, moose, and witness Deniigi perform his heroic feat!”
Excitement and curiosity once again piqued, the moose joined Saghani in encouraging Deniigi to enter the cave. In all his long years Deniigi had never experienced such abject terror and yet he knew that, were he to surrender to his cowardice in front of the whole herd, he would never, ever attain the status he desired more than anything else. Breathing hard, attempting to force away his fear with thoughts of the heroic stories his mother once told him, Deniigi strode onwards purposefully towards the mouth of the cave. His gaze constantly flickered between the cave’s entrance and the piece of sun that floated along above his head, so stark in contrast its brightness seemed against the pitch-blackness of the cave.
All too quickly it seemed to Deniigi the moose arrived at the entrance. Looking around at the herd, he decided to give a rousing speech before he embarked on his journey.
He began somewhat hesitantly, but soon found a reserve of courage to bolster his words. “My friends, today you shall bear witness to my heroic deed. I ask of you all to wait here for me while I venture into the underworld. I do not know how long I shall be gone, but I promise that I will return and I shall bring with me the wisdom of the ancients so that we moose may become once again the proud tribe that we were.”
This was met with general approval from the herd and every moose’s chest swelled with pride at the thought of being part of the great tradition of warrior moose. They watched Deniigi excitedly and eagerly awaited the completion of his mission.
He turned to face the cave.
“It is really very dark in there,” he muttered to Saghani, who was hopping about anxiously near the cave’s entrance.
“That is only to be expected, my friend. But you of all creatures should have no fear, sun-bearer. The brilliance of the sun itself will guide you through the darkness and protect you from danger. Now go and meet your destiny! I must fly back to the canyon’s entrance … to ensure an enemy did not follow the herd … but do not fret – no enemy would dare venture near the entrance to the underworld. I merely wish to be cautious, for the herd’s sake, while you are away on your journey,” Saghani replied, concocting more lies as he spoke and in his impatience nearly revealing too much of the truth.
Deniigi was too distracted by his quest to notice the bird’s odd behaviour. “Very well, for the glory of our ancestors I go!” he cried, and set off alone into the cave.
As the slow, plodding form of the elderly moose was enveloped by the darkness and the scrawny raven promptly flew away back to the canyon’s entrance, a weighty tension descended upon the herd of moose seeming to cause lungs to stop breathing, hearts to stop beating, time itself to stand still. They watched the cave, waiting expectantly. They watched the cave but nothing happened. They waited for what felt like an eternity but still there was no sign of Deniigi. The moose looked at each other, uncertain what to do now that the spectacle they had been so thrilled by before seemed to have finished.
When it no longer seemed that Deniigi would return soon, the moose lost interest in the underworld and the ancients and instead spread about the canyon, grazing on the lush grasses, oblivious to anything but filling their bellies.
Stumbling occasionally on unseen rocks, his eyes blinking and straining in the all-consuming blackness, Deniigi ventured further and deeper into the cave. How long he walked for he could not say, he lost all sense of time and direction and all he could think of was how the raven had deceived him. At first he had remained confident, assured that the piece of sun would illuminate his path. Then, as the darkness seemed only to grow more oppressive he began to turn his thoughts to retreating from the cave, but his pride would not let him. He had been duped by the raven, he could see that now, but he could not bear to return to the herd and let them know what a fool he had been. At least if he were to stay in the cave a while he might prove his courage for entering this dark and fearsome place, if nothing else.
Now, however, Deniigi’s courage was failing him. He began to despair of ever finding his way back to the canyon.
“Damn you, Saghani! What evil plan made you send me into this atrocious pit? I was a fool to believe you. I was blinded by my obsession with glory and now there will be no respect for me. I will not even be remembered, save as the one who failed to restore the moose to their former ways.”
Overcome with exhaustion, Deniigi laid his old body down on the cold stone floor of the cave, his heart full of sorrow and anguish. It seemed to him that he was to die here in the darkness, an old forgotten fool. The air about him grew colder and darker still and numbness crept through his body. He could barely distinguish his own body from the stone around him and his mind was no longer able to fix on any one thought.
Then a space above him appeared less dark to Deniigi, almost light in fact. His eyes focused on it, being the only thing to see in the cave. Deniigi tried to think but all he could conclude was, ‘I must be dying.’
As he stared at the light it grew brighter and larger. ‘Could it be … the raven did not lie? The piece of sun…?’
Deniigi struggled to his feet as the light continued to grow ever brighter, ever larger and soon it was larger than Deniigi himself and from it radiated a sense of strength and greatness. All at once, Deniigi heard a noble but kind voice booming in his head.
“Finally you have come, Deniigi. I have been waiting so very long.”
“Who are you, and how do you know me?” asked Deniigi, in awe.
The ghostly apparition before him replied in a voice heavy with melancholy, “When I was alive, the tribe knew me as Kaskae. Now I am dead and dwell in the spirit world, the moose no longer remember me and they do not pay their respects to the ancients.”
Deniigi was astounded. He remembered the name Kaskae from his mother’s stories. Kaskae had been the greatest warrior of all the moose. He had been the leader of the tribes and was wise and courageous.
“So it is true then … this is the entrance to the underworld. Am I dead now?” Deniigi asked, uncertain but no longer afraid.
“You are not dead, Deniigi. This is not the underworld. It is the sacred burial ground of our people. For many years we moose would lay our warriors to rest in this cave and the canyon beyond. Their bodies enriched the earth and made this canyon beautiful and holy. To feed on the grasses of the canyon is to be imbued with the strength of the ancients. Alas, it seems the tribe has lost its way. It has been too long since the last moose shaman came to commune with me. Deniigi, you are finally here. You must remember me to the tribe,” Kaskae replied.
“But … there no longer is a tribe. There are no shamans. Our people are now but a few herds scattered about the land and there is little contact between them,” Deniigi protested.
Kaskae shook his great head with a pained expression. He looked piercingly at Deniigi and said, “It saddens me to hear this, but I now understand why I have not been called on for so many years. The herds must be gathered together. We moose are a warrior people and our strength comes from the tribe. As for a shaman, Deniigi, you are such a moose.”
Hearing this, Deniigi felt an indescribable joy. He remembered hearing about the deeds of the moose shaman from his mother’s stories. There was only one shaman in each generation of moose and they were possessed with the gift of speaking to the spirits of the ancestors. When the moose tribe had been strong and mighty, the shaman had been respected and revered by the warriors as the keeper of the spiritual secrets and stories of their glorious past.
Far from feeling righteous to have learned that the respect and kudos he had always desired was finally due to him, Deniigi instead felt humbled and grateful.
“Great Kaskae, I hope I can prove myself to be worthy of this honour bestowed upon me,” he said.
The spirit nodded his ghostly head and said, “What led you to believe that you had entered the underworld?”
And so Deniigi explained all that had happened since meeting the raven and as he told the tale he felt ashamed to have been so ambitious and gullible. Kaskae agreed with Deniigi’s suspicions about the raven – he had been plotting something all along. The old warrior chief gently told Deniigi that no one, not even man, could conquer the sun and take a piece for himself. At this point Deniigi felt even more embarrassed as the tail of the piece of sun was still entwined in the old moose’s teeth. And yet, he was not quite willing to release the yellow object: Deniigi still admired its beauty and would have liked once more to look at its vivid colour as soon as he left caves and darkness.
“For the raven to have conceived of such a plot as this, he must have been planning something terrible. I fear you must hurry back to your herd, Deniigi, and ensure their safety. Once that is done we may begin the work of rebuilding the tribe. Always remember: we may be vulnerable when separated, but working together as a tribe, we moose are still mighty warriors and in this holy resting place all moose will find great reserves of strength and courage. Now go!”
Kaskae’s words encouraged old Deniigi and he hastened to leave the cave. His body no longer felt old and weary and his step was sure as he returned to the cave’s entrance where he beheld a most terrible sight.
While Deniigi had been wandering in the cave, the wolf pack had finally made their attack against the moose. Their ambush was totally effective as the moose were too busy grazing to hear them approach. Now they were huddled against the wall of the canyon staring wild-eyed at the wolves, backtracking despite there being nowhere else for them to escape to. Some of the moose were even trying to scale the sheer walls of the canyon; they attempted to launch themselves in the air only to slide back down causing more confusion amongst the herd when they landed heavily on top of the other moose. Deniigi, like the excited wolves, could smell the moose’s fear, and mingled with it the sharp tang of blood. Deniigi looked around and saw that several hapless moose had evidently tried to run for the canyon’s entrance. The wolves had brought them all down and lost no time in tearing chunks of flesh from the moose before they had even hit the ground. The smell of blood and taste of meat fresh from the kill had stirred the starving wolves into such a frenzy that they had become entirely senseless. They frothed at the mouth and growled and groaned terrifying noises that barely seemed natural. Where one wolf was unable to get close enough to the moose carcass, he had instead bitten down on the nearest flesh to him, not caring that it was a fellow wolf.
Deniigi shuddered with disgust. He knew he must act quickly before the herd became as mindless from fear as the wolves were from starvation.
(More to come)
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This is very fable sounding.
I like the idea but I think you can come up with a better title than that. You say you’re stuck on the ending. Is the raven actually a traitor? Is he going to tell the wolf the balloon is really nothing? I was trying to figure out where you were going with the raven, but I think you could even end it simply with the moose triumphing.
Something I noticed:
“he espied something bright” I think you meant to say spied.
But overall it was an enjoyable read.
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this is really wonderful. i hope you come up with your ending. the title is not nearly as magnificent as the story. my hope would be that it ends in some magical / mythical way. (please don’t pop the balloon!) i think this has so much great potential for a children’s story – and crosses the border to adult fairy tale. if i had written this and was looking for an ending i would re-read all the myths and fairy tales. this has some of that magic and that is a powerful achievement.
First off, I love the way you ended it. Saghani however confuses me slightly because in the beginning you say, “The raven looked emaciated. Undoubtedly it was suffering this cold, harsh winter.” But nowhere else in the text do you reference his thinness, or hunger. Unless of course you mean to imply that he was hoping the wolf would kill the moose so they could both eat it.
Other than that this is a very good story. You could easily attach a moral to it like, “Believe in yourself and everything is possible”
You did an amazing job with your word choice, it adds to the overall tone of the story.
I love love love the idea of a moose with a balloon. :)
This can be read for most ages and should be. You bring the reader into the story with the simple yet charming phrasing. You had me feeling sorry, happy, sad, and embarrassed for Deniigi all under 1200 words. I want to read more.
The characters are developing well for this amount of writing. Your ending is a great cliff hanger. Keep this up you will get published.
I like it alot. You should finish. You really are a talented writer, although I am not sure if the structure is perfect (but then again I don’t write in this format). I really invisioned this as like one of those Disney or Pixar cartoons. You should make it full length, going into Deniigi’s story abit more, as a old moose that has lost respect among the younger stronger warriors of the tribe who all run when the wolf comes. Maybe the Wolf and Raven decided to do that so that next time the herd don’t run, then it’ll be like an all you can eat buffet (with the raven eating his leftovers). All in all, I liked it and you should build on it, and make it a full length story.
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