From the moment the two of you had laid eyes on it, you had known only one thing: that you would catch it.
You and Allistor had not even reached the age of six when you saw the legendary white stag from your village's folklore. It was breathtaking. Each graceful step was taken in precaution, each tread, a delicate work of beauty. It was alert, but not frightened. It knew the two of you were watching it, yet it also knew it could escape at any given time.
When it had finished grazing on the grass that glistened with the early morning's dew, it lifted its magnificent full-antlered head and bound off into the evaporating mist leaving you and Allistor speechless.
Many years later, both of you were reaching that time where you were considered the proper age to be finding spouses and settling down, but not you and Allistor. Not at all.
Ever since witnessing the elegant white beast of legends, both of you swore that you would hunt it down. The two of you practi