The hunter walked through the forest. With a careful gaze, they scanned the forest floor. In some surprise, they found signs of human passage through the trackless depths of the woods where the deer roamed in fear of wolves and the bears. Curious and deciding that following this trail was more important than finding a possible deer path when there had been none in sight for an hour.
Broken branches and brambles showed that whomever had passed by did so with no care for pursuit. A snag of red cloth flapped like a lord's pennant on a thorny bush. The hunter paused and picked it off. Ahead, they could see something red moving. They moved off the path and began to move alongside it. As the hunter drew closer, they heard a voice singing some manner of invocation.
At the edge of the glade where the sun's light broke through the canopy to fall in gleaming rays, the hunter saw a youth dancing in some manner of a circle dance. The young lad's hair shone like gold and bounced in ringlets on his shoulders as he skipped through the dance's movements. His high pitched voice rang clearly in the air and echoed off the trees. Strangely, the birds seemed to join in his song.
Fear snaked through the hunter's heart. Something of magic was happening here, or worse yet of the gods. Feeling as though he was in danger, the hunter began to slip back into the deep brush. Then the boy stopped dancing and looked straight at him, his song ending. "You have come as I have summoned," the boy said. The hunter was compelled to emerge from the woods. The red cloth of the boy's torn tunic looked all too much like heart's blood for the hunter's liking. He wanted to drop the cloth in his hand but his fingers refused to obey his will, clutching it tighter like some holy relic.
"Your quarry awaits you in the hedge of the river," the boy said, "But first you must send me home."
"Where does your mother await you, lad?" the hunter asked uncomfortably. He had heard old, old stories from his father of the walker in the woods. The one who demanded sacrifice of blood and flame.
"I have no mother," the golden haired boy replied, "Nor father."
"Where then is your home and who cares for you?" the hunter asked. In the distance, thunder rolled. The boy pointed skyward. The hunter shook their head. "No man lives in that place, only the Stag Lord and his goats," he answered.
The boy smiled. It seemed as though light shone with such brilliance it blinded him, though he could still see the boy. In amazement, the hunter watched as the boy leaned forward and was upon all fours. His form changed to that of a goat with a ram's horns. The red color of the tunic had transformed to a rich caramel color fur. The goat bleated.
"I can not kill a child," the hunter said. The goat brandished its horns fearsomely at him. "I reject this temptation," the hunter said. Thunder grew louder. The goat charged him and the hunter dove aside. It ran in a quick circle and came back again to charge him, all four horns ready to strike home. The hunter moved aside, grasped the forward facing horns and wrestled the goat to the ground. The goat bleated and kicked. The hunter continued to hold the goat down with great effort.
As rain began to fall, a man walked out of the trees on the far side of the glade."You have found my son," he said. The hunter looked over. The man's face looked familiar, but he couldn't recall why whilst holding the struggling goat. "Release him to me," the man said, "Your willingness to adhere to mercy is admirable." The hunter stood and the goat ran to the side of the man who was also dressed in red and had golden hair. "I shall give you a gift as reward for your mercy and care of my child," he said.
The hunter was blinded by the lightning strike and left deaf. He fell to the ground quavering. When his vision and hearing eventually returned, the hunter was soaked from the driving rain. At the center of the glade where the lightning bolt struck, was a glistening black thing. The hunter cautiously picked up the glass. He thought of his home and wondered if he was now too deep in the woods to get back safely. The black mirror seemed to have its surface ripple like water and then he saw the cottage of his father by high cedars. "Father will not be pleased," the hunter said, "My first hunt alone and this happens."
As he began to move along the path, he wondered if there was a way that took him to the place the child-goat said a deer waited. The mirror glistened and he saw the deer track that started not far from him. The young man put the mirror carefully into his pouch. He followed the track. It was a sudden surprise to find himself at the thick wall of brambles with the river flowing on the other side. With its horns trapped in the hedge, there was a great stag. It was larger than the hunter thought it could be.
Exhausted from its efforts to free itself from the hedge, the stag just stood there placidly as the young man walked up to it. Slowly, he drew his knife and slit its throat. A great wash of blood flowed as the stag sagged down to the ground to weak for even death throes. The newly blooded hunter struggled to pull the stag's crown free from the thorny vines. He pulled out the strange black mirror and said, "Show me my father, let him hear my voice." The mirror rippled and the hunter saw his father at work chopping wood. "Father," he called, "Father, come to the hedge at the river. I can not bring the deer home with out you." The image of his father looked up and looked around confused. The wood axe was set upon the sled the man grabbed and he began walking.
A noise came nearly an hour later from the hedge on the river side. His father called out for him and the hunter answered. The axe hewed a path through the thorny hedge and father embraced son with great relief. He wondered at the mirror and the stag. Working together, they freed the deer from the hedge and dragged it on the sled back to their home. Never in the rest of his days did the hunter forget the child-goat. And ever on did he keep the mirror secret in his home only sharing its knowledge in times of deep need.
