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The stag spoke first. "I have served you this night."
"I know."
"Did I not serve you well?"
"You did."
"Have I not always served you well?"
"You have often served me well"
The stag seemed not to notice the distinction. "And I
have asked little in return."
"It was service freely given, gladly accepted." She
stared down at him, her horn pointing into the night. "You
have more to ask now."
"No. More to offer."
"It is the same thing."
That nearly silenced him. Finally, however, he went on:
"I offer my love. I give it freely, generously; since
there is none like me, a gift without parallel." "I know."
After a silence, the stag finished angrily, "Yet you
refuse."
"I must." The Forestmaster broke the feeling of ritual
by saying, "Humans say of my kind that only a virgin may
catch me."
"It is an old legend. That is not why you refuse me."
"It is old, and it is exactly why." She spoke less firmly,
more sadly. "And like most old legends, it is twisted and
half true. It is not the humans who must be chaste. To be
who I am, to serve whom I must - "
"Enough," the stag said harshly. "Noble vows aside,
you have refused my love."
The Forestmaster stared into his death-laden, proud
eyes and closed her own
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