Little Thunder put the arrow back in his quiver. He moved toward the animal slowly. The fawn struggled to his spindly little legs and wobbled slightly. Then his legs gave way and he fell to the ground. Little Thunder could not help laughing at the awkward little animal. This scared the fawn even more and he rose to his feet again and tried to run but again tumbled to the ground. Little Thunder ran forward to where the fawn lay, fearful that the fawn might have hurt himself. When he reached the side of the fawn he knelt down and placed his hands along the soft silky neck. The fawn trembled but he made no attempt to move. Gently, Little Thunder stroked his neck and head and back and soon the little fawn quieted down. It was not too long before a rough little tongue reached up and swiped at Little Thunder’s face. Little Thunder laughed again and the fawn trembled. Speaking softly, Little Thunder told the fawn that everything was all right and that no one would harm him. Little Thunder realized that the mother deer must not be too far off, because only rarely would a mother deer leave her young—and then only to get a drink of water or find a new place to hide her fawn. Little Thunder rose from the ground and decided to look around for the fawn’s mother. Walking to the opposite edge of the clearing, he looked down through the forest and saw a lake. Winding his way through the trees and brush, he was soon standing upon the shore of the lake. There he found fresh tracks of a full-grown deer. Then he saw some blood on the shore near more deer tracks, but he could find no further trace of the deer. Then he spotted the prints of a pair of moccasins. He realized that a warrior from a neighboring tribe in search of food had probably come upon the doe while she was drinking, shot her, and carried her away. He knew his guess was right when he saw a deer’s stubby tail tied to the branch of a low-hanging tree—a sign always left by an Indian near the place where he had killed an animal for food or clothing. Little Thunder ran back quickly to the little fawn, still nestled in the tall grass. Even though he trembled as Little Thunder came near, he soon became calm as the young Indian petted him gently. “Your mother has been killed, little one,” Little Thunder murmured to the fawn. “That leaves you with no one to look out for you. Do not worry. I, Little Thunder, will be your friend. But first we must get you to a safer place, for there are many animals that would make life dangerous for you here in the open.”