“Why did she leave it?”

“She thought it would be safe.”

Ashley reached out her fingers and touched the fawn’s back, tracing the fur from neck to tail. “When will she be back?”

“Dusk, probably. I don’t know. Or when she’s done eating.”

“Can I pick it up?”

“I think that’s fine.”

Ashley wrapped her hands around the fawn’s ribs and lifted it gently into her arms. The fawn relaxed against her. It placed its white chin on her shoulder and closed its eyes.

“It’s trusting,” said Mara.

“Never had a reason to be afraid,” said Bullfrog. “Doesn’t have the sense to be.”

Mara wanted to hold the fawn herself. She imagined the feeling of cool fur on her own cheek. But she didn’t want to pet the fawn while Ashley held it, and she didn’t want to ask. She waited for Ashley to put the fawn down, to give the rest of them a turn, but Ashley started swaying, humming, and only held the fawn closer.

“I want to show Kyle,” Ashley said finally.

Bullfrog had become the fawn’s authority. As a hunter, he knew deer. “Let’s mark the spot,” he said. “So you can put it back right here. Where Mom can find it.”

He placed a white stone where the fawn had lain, and arranged two sticks in an X beside it. It would be easy to come back and find the same place.

Of course Kyle knew facts about fawns. He propped himself up on his hands.

“It’s a girl,” he said. “Probably five or six days old. You see the spots? Most predators can’t see color, so the spots help her blend into the forest floor.” He gave the fawn his finger, and she began to suck. Then she let go, disappointed. She was anxious in the shelter, near the fire, with the smell of smoke. She kicked her legs, but Ashley held her tight.

“It’s okay,” said Ashley, petting her. Mara wondered if the fawn was as soft as she looked.

“It’s time to bring her back,” said Mara.

“Not yet,” said Ashley. She went outside and sat on the grass, away from Bullfrog’s vomit, which had dried into a crust. She put the fawn down, and it curled into a ball beside her. “See? She likes me.”

The signal fires were smoldering. Mara went to the lake and lay down and closed her eyes. She imagined petting the fawn. She had seen fawns, of course, but never this young, never this close. She wondered if the deer she had seen long ago was the fawn’s mother, and decided that it was. Maybe the doe had left her baby close to their camp on purpose, because she knew that other animals, predators, would stay away. Mara decided she was going to go pet the fawn, to feel for herself how soft it was. She went back to the clearing and crouched near it and touched the fawn’s back.

It felt like satin, like water. The spots were even more perfect up close.