In the first doe that ran,
And in the second doe, he hit.
And the third one retreated in the
She is among the leaves of the
The prince woke up gladly. It was the day of hunting. The dogs barked on the castle’s courtyard. He dressed the leather waistcoat, put the boots. The horses were hoofing underneath the windows. He took the gloves and went down.
The yard seemed a feast. The harnesses and the animal’s fur shone at the sun. Shone the open teeth in laughs, the weapons, the horns blowing the call to start.
In the woods, the horn and the noise were also heard. Everybody knew they were coming. And each one hid as they could.
Only the maiden did not hide. She was woken up by the horn sound, and she was leant by the stream when the hunters arrived.
The prince saw her like that. Half woman, half doe, drinking in the stream. The woman, so beautiful. The doe, so fast. The woman, he wanted to love; the doe, he wanted to kill. Getting close, would she flee? He touched the branch; she arose the head listening. So, the prince prepared the bow, aimed the arrow and shot right in the right foot. And when the doe-woman bended over her knees trying to snatch the arrow away, he ran and held her, calling out men and dogs.
They took the doe to the castle. The doctor came and treated the wound. They put the doe in a closed room.
Everyday the prince visited her. Only he had the key. And he fell in love more and more. But the doe-woman spoke only the language of the woods and the prince only knew the language of the Palace.
Then, they remained hours looking at each other, with so many things to say.
He wanted to say how much he loved her, that he wanted to marry her and have her forever in the castle. He would cover her with clothes and jewellery, that he would call the best wizard in the reign to turn her into a complete woman.
She wanted to say how much she loved him, that she wanted to marry him and take him to the woods. She would teach him how to like the birds and the flowers and she would ask the Queen of Does to give him four quick hoofs and a beautiful brown fur.
But the prince had the key of the door. And she did not have the secret of the word.
Everyday they met. Now, they hold their hands. And on the day the first tear came out of her eyes, the prince thought he had understood it and called the wizard.
When the doe woke up, she was no longer a doe. Just two long legs, a white body. She tried to get up but did not succeed in. The prince gave her his hand. The jewellers came and covered her with jewels. The masters of dance came to teach her how to walk Only the word she did not have. And the desire to be woman.
It took seven days until she learned seven steps. And in the eighth morning day, when she woke up and saw the door opened, gathered seven steps and seven more, crossed the corridor, went down the stairs, crossed the courtyard and ran to the woods, searching for her Queen.
The sun still shone when the doe came out from the woods, only doe, no woman anymore. And it started grazing underneath the Palace windows.
From: Uma idéia toda azul. Translated by Viviane de Guanabara Mury.