I THOUGHT THEY WERE JUST CURIOUS DEER—UNTIL I SAW WHAT THE LITTLE ONE WAS CARRYING They came out of nowhere—just wandered up from the treeline while I was tossing hay near the fence. No fear, no hesitation. Like they’d been here before. The bigger one had a calmness to him, like he was guarding. But the small one? The little one kept tilting its head at me, blinking slow, like it was trying to tell me something. I laughed and pulled out my phone to snap this photo—“today I got some guests,” I joked, even posted it with that caption. But the moment after I took it, something strange happened. The little one stepped forward. Right up to the fence. And dropped something. At first I thought it was a rock or a clump of mud. But when ⤵️

Then I slowly lifted the lid.

Inside, wrapped in a yellowed linen cloth, was a bundle of letters—dozens of them—each one tied with twine. The top letter was addressed, in neat cursive handwriting:

“To the one who listens.”

Chills ran down my spine.

The paper was brittle as I unfolded it, and the ink had faded in places, but the message was clear:

If you’ve found this, then you were meant to. The forest remembers kindness, and so do we. This land is older than memory, and its guardians choose carefully. The deer are not what they seem. Protect them, and you’ll understand in time.

My breath caught. Guardians? What was this, some local legend?

I read on.

There is something buried beneath the clearing, under the stone with the spiral carved into it. Dig carefully. And do not open what you find there until the moon is full.

Suddenly, this wasn’t just about a box or a key anymore. This was something bigger—older.

I gathered the letters and tucked them safely into my coat. Then I went looking for the stone.