Alone, in the rock and the desert, far from home, far from the sounds of the swamp, the gentle humidity, she stumbles. The raw heat burns at her hooves, the sun bakes her neck, parches her throat. She thinks of the swamp, the distant promise of water. Should she turn back here, she could return to the familiar home. But the voice calls out, reaches out again in her moment of weakness.
Come to me.
She hears, and though it has been so long, the doe still finds the strength within her to keep on walking. She walks. And walks.
Come to me.
And onwards. Through the rock and heat and sand. Under the sun, in a land where there is no water, where the world ends.
I will show you the truth.
A single bush, burning. Engulfed by flames. She sees, and she knows. Her journey is over now but the world lies open and she need only sleep to see.