The forest pool lay morning-still, smooth as a mirror. The deer came down to drink and saw his own reflection. "Just look — aren't my antlers beautiful?"
The kingfisher tilted her head. "Pretty as a picture. But who does the running? Those skinny legs of yours." Ashamed, the deer tucked his legs into the reeds.
The birds burst up out of the trees. Far off — woof… woof! The deer froze mid-step, breath caught. "Run!" cried the kingfisher. Will he get away?
And those skinny legs turned into wings! One leap, then another — the canal cleared in a single bound! The kingfisher called the way. "Left — go left!"
Into the thicket he crashed — snap! Those proud antlers caught fast in the branches. "Head down — twist!" cried the kingfisher. He tore free — and one branch of antler stayed behind.
Dusk came down. His legs still trembling, one side of his antlers broken away. The deer looked a long while at his own thin legs. He said nothing. Nor did the kingfisher.
Fireflies lit the pool. The deer stood tall and square — and this time it was his slender legs that showed first in the water. "It isn't the show," he said. "It's the use." The kingfisher settled on the broken antler.