“It’s hard to believe that it will ever be better,” Bambi’s mother sighed.
Aunt Ena sighed too. “It’s hard to believe that it was ever any better,” she said.
“And yet,” Marena said, looking in front of her, “I always think how beautiful it was before.”
“Look,” old Nettla said to Aunt Ena, “your little one is trembling.” She pointed to Gobo. “Does he always tremble like that?”
“Yes,” Aunt Ena answered gravely, “he’s shivered that way for the last few days.”
“Well,” said old Nettla in her frank way, “I’m glad that I have no more children. If that little one were mine I’d wonder if he’d last out the winter.”
The future really didn’t look very bright for Gobo. He was weak. He had always been much more delicate than Bambi or Faline and remained smaller than either of them. He was growing worse from day to day. He could not eat even the little food there was. It made his stomach ache. And he was quite exhausted by the cold, and by the horrors around him. He shivered more and more and could hardly stand up. Everyone looked at him sympathetically.
Old Nettla went up to him and nudged him good-naturedly. “Don’t be so sad,” she said encouragingly, “that’s no way for a little prince to act, and besides it’s unhealthy.” She turned away so that no one should see how moved she was.
Ronno who had settled himself a little to one side in the snow suddenly sprang up. “I don’t know what it is,” he mumbled and gazed around.
Everyone grew watchful. “What is it?” they asked.
“I don’t know,” Ronno repeated. “But I’m restless. I suddenly felt restless as if something were wrong.”
Karus was snuffing the air. “I don’t smell anything strange,” he declared.
They all stood still, listening and snuffing the air. “It’s nothing, there’s absolutely nothing to smell,” they agreed one after another.
“Nevertheless,” Ronno insisted, “you can say what you like, something is wrong.”
Marena said, “The crows are calling.”
“There they go calling again,” Faline added quickly, but the others had already heard them.
“They are flying,” said Karus and the others.
Everybody looked up. High above the treetops a flock of crows flapped by. They came from the farthest edge of the forest, the direction from which danger always came, and they were complaining to one another. Apparently something unusual had happened.
“Wasn’t I right?” asked Ronno. “You can see that something is happening.”
“What shall we do?” Bambi’s mother whispered anxiously.
“Let’s get away,” Aunt Ena urged in alarm.
“Wait,” Ronno commanded.
“But the children,” Aunt Ena replied, “the children. Gobo can’t run.”
“Go ahead,” Ronno agreed, “go off with your children. I don’t think there’s any need for it, but I don’t blame you for going.” He was alert and serious.
“Come, Gobo. Come, Faline. Softly now, go slowly. And keep behind me,” Aunt Ena warned them. She slipped away with the children.
Time passed. They stood still, listening and trembling.
“As if we hadn’t suffered enough already,” old Nettla began. “We still have this to go through. …” She was very angry. Bambi looked at her, and he felt that she was thinking of something horrible.
Three or four magpies had already begun to chatter on the side of the thicket from which the crows had come. “Look out! Look out, out, out!” they cried. The deer could not see them, but could hear them calling and warning each other. Sometimes one of them, and sometimes all of them together, would cry, “Look out, out, out!” Then they came nearer. They fluttered in terror from tree to tree, peered back and fluttered away again in fear and alarm.
“Akh!” cried the jays. They screamed their warning loudly.
Suddenly all the deer shrank together at once as though a blow had struck them. Then they stood still snuffing the air.
It was He.
A heavy wave of scent blew past. There was nothing they could do. The scent filled their nostrils, it numbed their senses and made their hearts stop beating.
The magpies were still chattering. The jays were still screaming overhead. In the woods around them everything had sprung to life. The titmice flitted through the branches, like tiny feathered balls, chirping, “Run! run!”
The blackbirds fled swiftly and darkly above them with long-drawn twittering cries. Through the dark tangle of bare bushes, they saw on the white snow a wild aimless scurrying of smaller, shadowy creatures. These were the pheasants. Then a flash of red streaked by. That was the fox. But no one was afraid of him now. For that fearful scent kept streaming on in a wider wave, sending terror into their hearts and uniting them all in one mad fear, in a single feverish impulse to flee, to save themselves.
That mysterious overpowering scent filled the woods with such strength that they knew that this time He was not alone, but had come with many others, and there would be no end to the killing.
They did not move. They looked at the titmice, whisking away in a sudden flutter, at the blackbirds and the squirrels who dashed from treetop to treetop in mad bounds. They knew that all the little creatures on the ground had nothing to fear. But they understood their flight when they smelt Him, for no forest creature could bear His presence.
Presently Friend Hare hopped up. He hesitated, sat still and then hopped on again.
“What is it?” Karus called after him impatiently.
But Friend Hare only looked around with bewildered eyes and could not even speak. He was completely terrified.
“What’s the use of asking?” said Ronno gloomily.
Friend Hare gasped for breath. “We are surrounded,” he said in a lifeless voice. “We can’t escape
