Under Extreme Constructions.

Flitting through the forest trees,
On swiftest, lightest foot he flees;
Treading silent as a sigh,
Unbeknownst to wolven eye;
Pausing in the morning glade,
Searching for shadows in the shade;
Leaping away, a twig crunched under claws,
Ever running from vengeful jaws;
As the years pass, anger sowing,
Little buck is quickly growing;
Awaiting the day his hooves cleave,
Leaving the wolf to flee and grieve.