Sapienophobia

Chapter 7

I spent the next several days deer training.

If they let me.

Originally, I had planned on getting just close enough to observe but their hearing was superb and they bolted as soon as I sensed them.

So I used a trial and error approach. First, I was confident that just stepping slowly enough would mask my presence; an adult spotted me when it was nothing more than a beige speck in the distance. I deduced that it was my attire that made me stand out. My top wasn't a bright golden robe but the light colors must've seemed bold to animals who had been living in thickets their whole lives.

I returned dressed in navies and ebonies the following day. This worked in tandem with my skin which was one tone away from grassy. That time they noticed me too, I believed it was because of my lanky nature as a two-legged mammal. I neared them again on all fours the following attempt, humbling myself so that they would think me inferior. Standing, I easily matched their heights but crawling I mimicked the likeness of large vermin. I was glad this attempt succeeded so I didn't have to resort to a belly crawl.

So if they don't perceive me as a threat, they'll let their guard down. Noted.
I need to make sure I don't let my guard down all the while too.

I observed everything, their sleeping patterns, their feeding times, and the like.

Locating their turf was relatively easy once I knew their habits. Their territory circulated with the fog; it must've been an instinct for them to dwell under the thickest veils of their environment. Despite this, the creatures favored inconsistent terrain, staying longer there than in the partial plains. The humidity rotated the herd towards and away from their food sources equally. I imagined it was the same for the predators.

The animals were most active during the first sunrises and second sunsets. All the time in between was spent dormant.

Even their sleeping positions were astute; they curled into their torsos, minimizing the area of vulnerability to their vital organs. If you couldn't see that their eyes weren't closed, one wouldn't be able to tell that they were sleeping rather than taking an extended lounge. Their hearing and, from the looks of it, all their other sensory traits were not dulled in their sleep. A gust of wind on their fur or a slight vibration under the ground would tip them off. They could have unfurled from their fetal position, stood, and made an escape before a sound could resonate. They might as well have not been sleeping if they reserved the perceptions of the awakened.

I envy them. To be able to maintain full consciousness in one's sleep. Can it even be considered sleep at this point?

Sleep is supposed to allow one's body to recharge from the day's exertions. It seemed counterproductive if it acted as a continuation of those exertions.

Can they differentiate which sounds are potential threats or just negligible? If not, are they always in this semi-conscious state? If so, how do I become negligible?
Is it the sound of my breathing? How can they know it's not a fawn who has yet to fall in sync with the rest?

I ascertained that sleeping was the segue into which deer digested their food.

All of my questions didn't have answers but I didn't need to be a deer to have the instincts of one.

Running after them supplied me with the stamina I needed. The way I ran changed as well; of course, I didn't copy the hands and feet approach but I did watch my footing. I made my steps extremely wide, lunging a ways away diagonally from my recent footprint. This initially slowed my movements until I adapted. It required a perfect shift of my weight mid-lunge to achieve a reasonable speed.

Learning this lesson was particularly erroneous. The pain from just pulling my hamstring once acted as an incentive for me to stretch before performing any more strenuous training.

Only after that did I notice that deer stretched every 40-minute interval or so.

Additionally, my mentors faced downwind as they ran and slept to prevent winds from interrupting their hearing.

I also noticed that seemingly randomly, the animals' food hunts would slightly increase in duration from time to time. The deer consumed a mixture of sweet flowers, wild berries, and high barks. None of which were edible to Anides, I soon discovered after being cursed with forest diarrhea.

Well, at least I'll know what to do if I want to poison someone.

My sudden vomiting also scared them. It only took a bit more coaxing to get them to open back up to me.

When the deer would urinate or defecate, they covered their tracks, hindering the predators' searches. It was rare to see the creatures stock food but on one of the later sunsets, a mother built a small hill of acorns she and her fawn proceeded to curl around to keep warm. What I had assumed to be a prearranged feeder for her offspring when she wasn't present turned out to be an investment for the following day. I witnessed both the doe and the fawn partake in the spoils of the day before.

Prepare ahead, got it.

The mystical power of the deer to impossibly jump on and up structures discouraged me.

That'd be useful while running away.

The animals could scale the scrawniest limbs to retrieve barks for their offspring.

The sparkle of runes naturally imprinted on their soles used to perform such leaps was said to enchant travelers to their shrubbery dooms.

I believe it.

After learning all the escape tactics I thought I should from Professor Deer, I spent a few days perfecting it. A majority of the covering my tracks part was self-taught, seeing as deer' footsteps were light and nearly indistinguishable from the ground in this fogginess. The wetness of the mud made it difficult to examine, especially if the indent would fill in soon by the weather. Once I mastered that though, everything else was simple.

The next course I decided on was instructed by Professor Insect, who would teach me which moves would get me killed so that I could avoid them.

Luckily for me, this teacher was expendable as the species under its classification were interchangeable.

It needed to be, no other animals would be more familiar with the refined art of dying.