He felt eyes upon him, eyes from all sides, eyes of long-lost beasts that were far greater than he could ever be. Legends, heroes, names found in stories. Pressure welled in his chest. He could never hold a candle to them. Yet he held his head high. They would not have to know. He could keep his pride.
He fell hard, landed on his back, struggled to his feet. Gorgeous does and bucks surrounded him, far more beautiful than he. Still he held his head high. Surely he was worthy to be amongst them, surely that is why he was being shown such wonders...
Darkness enveloped him, and there was an absence of warmth. It dug deep into his bones and left him breathless. He saw a light ahead and crawled - crawled? How had he ended up wounded? Why would his legs no longer support him? - crawled desperately towards it. The light blossomed from a creature so fierce, yet radiating warmth and wisdom. And finally he was ashamed. No longer was his head high. He was unworthy to be in the presence of it, but could feel only love and respect.
So this is what it felt like to be humbled before one far greater...