The road was well on it’s way on being reclaimed by nature. Sprouts and grass had broken through the asphalt, the edges had grown back into the ditches and the trees had spread their branches out over where the emptiness above the road had offered additional sunlight. It still meant that there was a wide gap in the trees at the edge of the farm, a break in the forest that the animals used as willingly as men once did.

Buck looked away from the gap and reshouldered his axe, as he placed a new log on the stump. He was a strapping young anthropomorphic deer, wearing jeans, but bare-chested and farm strong from hours of doing chores like these. Surviving was all he had known. His home nestled in a steep valley, powered by sun, wind, and water. Well, just wind and water now. The last solar panel had failed three weeks ago, and they could no longer coax it back to health. It didn’t really matter, of course; they still had enough for the stove, lights, and water heater, but a bad dry season…

Buck swung his axe, splitting the wood easily. He liked doing this chore for his old man. His father’s muzzle was whiter than the old buck cared to admit, but his mother and sister were younger, and the three of them could manage without him, barring  a bad season. He was the best shot of them, and much of the wild meat came from his hunting. They had a large reserve of meat built up, but a bad season would could cut into it. Father was reminding him that every shot counted, and had been trying to make bows. Buck knew there mustn’t be much ammunition left.

The axe made a satisfying sound as cleaved the logs. Father had shown him what he had looked like as a baby: hairless and fleshy. That was before the war’s mutation fusion attack. Buck could just remember the days just after the war when the sun was less bright and the winters were colder, longer, and hard. But it was better now.

He sighed, set down his axe, and stacked the logs for the fire. He kept looking at that gap in the trees, where the broken road disappeared. No one had come down that road as long as he had lived. Perhaps there was no one that could come down that road any more. He didn’t know.

He stood, his arms full, shirtless in the summer sun, frozen by the view of that hole leading into darkness. His velvet antlers were growing nicely, his body lean and strong. His black eyes stared, then finally he tore his gaze away with a huff through his black nose. He turned back towards the house. He had not made a decision, but he had selected his side. He wanted to explore the dark, green tunnel of the old road and see where and to who it might lead.