Year 759

The first year of life came and went and Conduiramour grew like a weed. She was at her mother's side constantly, only leaving to explore a few steps away. Life in Glenmore was beautiful and full of things to see and learn, but there were many dangers to one so young. Her mother was forever on watch, even when her mate or a guard was nearby.

On that early summer's day, something special had happened. A feathered doe, a bright light, and powerful burst of magic which led to the growth of the New Oak. Her parents had been affected by Nuala's power and even Conduiramour had felt a touch of the Princess's mystical power. At the tender age of one, her own magic was lying dormant. Waiting for the third year of life which would finally kindle that little spark. In that briefest of moments, however, Conduiramour had felt a kiss of magic which made her own magic flutter a bit. It faded away soon after, but the filly had felt it. It was warm and soothing, kind of like her mother's touch.

"What happened?" Conduiramour heard her mother ask her father. The little family had retreated to their private glade, the two older fawnlings were discussing what had taken place in the Royal fields. "I do not know, but whatever it was...I just hope it means the herd will take a turn for the better." the stag replied.

Year 758

Before her life was full of love, music, and laughter, the fawn knew only a few soothing sounds. There was the sound of her mother’s voice, soft and pleasant like a proper Glenmore doe. There was a deeper, slightly raspy voice that belonged to the stag who she would one day call father. In the quiet of her den, the young fawnling was safe. But she could not stay inside forever.

One day something happened, something that the young filly forgot as soon as she was released into the world beyond. Her senses were assaulted from all angles and her little mind could not keep up. There were new sights, new smells, new things to hear and touch and taste. The filly was soon aware of one thing that would be constant. The presence of the golden doe who was her mother. "Hello my precious little baby," the doe cooed, her pale muzzle reaching out to give the newborn a gentle nuzzle. A warm wet tongue slid out and began to lap at her coat. The filly gave her mother a blank look, not understanding a single word that she had just uttered. But the washing was quite nice and the fawn let out a tiny bleat. Her eyes drifted down to the four strange things that were folded beneath her, the legs that would one day make her a swift runner and able to walk many miles. But first she had to learn how to use them to get herself up and off the ground. Under the watchful eye of her mother, the filly untangled her limbs and began the process of trial and error. It was taxing, but she was determined like all young fawns and soon the golden fawn was starting to take her first few steps. Her mother was there, waiting to give the young fawnling the well-deserved reward of her first drink.

“Welcome to Glenmore, Conduiramour.”