The Way Things Are

Faster. Faster. Faster.

The only thing Charr could hear as she thundered down the track was the sound of her own heartbeat hammering in her ears, and the rhythmic thud-thud gave her something to match the pace of her hoofbeats to.

Faster.

She struggled to push her legs to pump faster, relishing the stretch and spring of her muscles as they coiled tight underneath her then sent her shooting forwards in the same instant. There was something instinctive about the fold-and-extend of running, as though she were born to do it, and she relished that feeling.

Faster.

Her tiny hooves clawed at the dusty earth beneath them, dragging her first towards them, then forcing her away from them, but propelling her forever forwards. She strained to travel further with each stride, reaching for dirt that was further and further away from her with each extension of her legs.

Faster.

The hot air burned as Charr sucked it in, filling her lungs with the dry air. She was panting with exertion, and her throat felt half-aflame as she strove to move ever-faster, but the pain meant nothing to her; her only focus was on her goal.

Faster.

Under her feet the earth was dusty, and the grass that sprouted from it was brittle and dry, and broke beneath her feet. She left a dusty trail in the air behind her, almost an extension of her sandy-coloured tail as she sped through the grasslands.

Faster.

There -- the finish line. She could see her mother, standing in the grass a short ways ahead, and put on a fresh burst of speed, tearing up the ground in a last ditch attempt to gain even more speed.

Stop!

Charr passed her mother in a blur of golden-brown, and quickly hit the brakes, digging her hooves into the soft soil and skidding to a halt, her back legs sliding between her front legs. Earnestly she spun round to face her mother, gazing up at the older doe with ears perked forwards.

"Did I do it?" She asked curiously, bounding excitedly around. "Was I faster?"

The golden doe looked down at her, the faintest whisper of a smile on her face as she sighed in exasperation. "Yes, you were faster," she said, almost reluctantly.

Charr shrieked in happiness, leaping into the air and bouncing freely, before suddenly stopping and frowning at her mother. "Are you sure?" She asked slowly. "Did you count right?" The frown deepened. "You're not lying to me so I'll stop practising, are you?"

The older doe sighed again, used to such questions. "Yes, Charr, I'm sure. Now come, your father will be waiting."

Finally satisfied, Charr bounded alongside her mother, following her through the brush as they headed back to the herd. "Maybe I'm fast enough to beat the colts, now!" She exclaimed, excited at the prospect of finally being able to win against her lifelong rivals. "Now, maybe I can be a soldier when I'm older!"

Her mother stopped, and frowned at her daughter. "Charr," she said warningly. "We talked about this. You cannot be a soldier, that's a job for stags. You should train to be a healer or something more respectable, like me and your grandmother."

Charr scowled furiously, her dreams suddenly shattered by the words of her mother. "I don't understand!" She cried, stamping a tiny hoof. "Why can only stags be soldiers!? Why not does too?"

Her mother sighed again. "It's just the way things are, Charr." She said in exasperation, ending the conversation by walking away, back towards the herd.