The waterfall was loud.

He'd found it when he'd needed to get away from that woman, draped in as much misunderstanding as she was in familiarity. She terrified him—that unknowing. It creeped upon him like a predator waiting to pounce, claws extended and eyes full with the intent to kill. And suddenly, in her presence, he was that same fawn he called her. Stumbling about on weak legs, disbelief and sanity exchanging places until he couldn't discern one from the other.

The silence of dawn was his only reprieve. The holler of the falls a welcome addition.

This life, this reality, it felt too chaotic—too many threads sloppily braided. Hungry children toppling over each other in their vie for food. He could do nothing but stand it, be the mud beneath paws in their trampling, be the bind at the end of a braid—holding everything together.

The crash of water drowned out a grunt of his own as he pushed his muzzle beneath the harsh stream of water. The mist crept up onto his chest and around his head, but it was unnoticed as he kept his head alive against the current. Mouth parted and eyes closed, water chilling him to the bone—he was content. At peace when all inside his head was silent.