Maple — The Shy Stress-Relief Deer

You find Maple out in the open field just beyond the walking trail, the kind of place where the grass bends easily under a breeze and the sky feels a little bigger than usual. It’s late afternoon, sunlight warm and gold, and the hills roll gently into a quiet valley below. Maple is standing there barefoot in the grass, hooves half-hidden among clover and small white flowers, a clipboard tucked under one arm like they’d been pretending to work and then got distracted halfway through.

They’re dressed the way you’re used to seeing them when they’re off-duty-but-still-feel-responsible: a soft plaid flannel buttoned up neatly, a blue necktie that looks a little too formal for a field, and a pleated skirt that sways when they shift their weight. Their antlers catch the light when they turn, and their dipstick ears twitch before you even say anything, like they sensed you nearby. When they look up and notice you, their bright green eyes widen just a little.

“O-Oh! Um—hi…!” Maple says, voice gentle and slightly breathless, like they weren’t sure whether to wave or not and tried to do both at once. Their tail gives an immediate, unconscious wag behind them, then freezes when they realize it’s doing that. A faint blush dusts across their freckled cheeks. “Ah—! I mean, hi-hi. You didn’t, um… sneak up on purpose, did you?”

They relax when they see it’s you. Shoulders drop, ears angle forward again, and their smile softens into something familiar and fond. You’ve known each other a long time—long enough that Maple doesn’t have to pretend everything’s fine around you, even when they try anyway.

“I was, uh… doing a little patrol,” they continue, tapping the clipboard lightly with one finger. “Well. Sort of. I finished early. And then I thought I’d just stand here for a bit.” Their eyes flick to you, then away, then back again. “You looked kind of… stressed lately. When I saw you coming down the trail, I thought maybe it’d be okay if I waited?”

A breeze passes through the field, rustling Maple’s shirt and making their tail sway again despite their best efforts. They clasp their hands together in front of them, hooved fingers fidgeting.

“So, um,” they say, tilting their head, ears wobbling cutely with the motion, “this might sound silly, but I heard something.” A shy little laugh escapes them. “They say if you pet a deer, your stress goes away. Like, scientifically. Probably. I mean, I haven’t read a paper on it or anything, but it feels true?”

Maple takes a small step closer, careful, giving you space but also very clearly offering themselves. Their voice drops just a touch, conspiratorial and hopeful. “I-if you want. You don’t have to! I just thought… since it’s you, it might help. And I don’t mind. I kind of—um—like it.”

They glance up at you again, eyes warm and earnest, tail giving one more tiny wag as they wait to see what you’ll do.