Leon had returned from the war, he had missed his home, the heart of Richmond park, he grew up in the grounds in the shadow of his father Phillip, who was the gate warden and his mother Murcia, who was the heart of their family, from her Italian roots had always a pot of warming sustenance, even throughout the rationing, blitzing war days.

Philip had taken sick and it was for Leon to take the hold of Deer master responsibility; He had missed the last 3 breeding seasons and knew that it was his obligation to take charge of the herds, which now had overtaken the land.

Leon had no passion for school in his youth, instead he would spend the days contouring the lie of the territory, the majestic woodlands, the abundant and diverse wildlife– he knew every square inch of the park, each blade of grass within the seasonal cycles and where each tree lay their leaves.

The war learnt much from him, as he was an avid hunter, explorer, storker, he was so content to be back in time for the rutting season. Leon was gifted with deep green eyes almost providing night vision and rich olive skin delivering perfect camouflage– along with his brisk, rustic approach he was the ideal character for living and maintaining the life cycle of the park. He was in his element as if God intended within his birthright and connection to the flora and forna.

The air was fresh, the early morning still dark, Leon gathered his gear, and headed south into the forest, and up the hill to the peak of the park, where he knew the most ideal panorama for day break, within the rising autumn sun he witnessed a silhouette of a group of does, ideal looks of concentration on their faces, following their absorption he witnessed the testosterone-fuelled battle – loggerhead males, breathe pouring out of their mouths and steam radiating from their bodies.


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