Young Writers Society

The stag paces slowly through the quiet forest.
There is snow all about, muffling the sound of his hooves. There are no other sounds to drown out in whiteness.
The stag knows where she is, and he knows what to do. They have done it before, she and him, and they will do it again until the end.
He enters the cave, the water rippling away in protest at his touch, but returning to him to caress his body. He strides into the water until it touches his chest, soaking his sides with icy coolness.
The stag breathes one sigh, a warm moist breath. At the roof of the cave, a cluster of ice crystals spear down to the pool. One thin crystal in particular is struck by the breath and, warmed by the life from the stag, releases frozen, pent-up water. One drop slides down the crystal and falls to the pool below.
When it hits, the drop does not splash like it should. Instead, the water swirls up and out of the water like a specter. There is a face in it, a slow, waking face, hidden behind endless curls of luscious hair. The eyes are closed. The skin is crystal blue.
The stag leans towards the shape and names it.
She is Gaia, beautiful Life.
She wears nothing, for she is unashamed of her body, knowing rightly that she is beautiful. Her hair, a flowing mass, acts like a robe and tries to hide her nakedness, but she smiles and slips it away.
Gaia turns her face towards him and opens her eyes. Her slim hands, cold like water, but warm with vibrant life, touch the stag’s muzzle and caress the wild tangles of his hair. They embrace like lovers reunited, adoration and tenderness emanating like light from a beacon.
Then the stag pulls away, his face and eyes commanding her. Gaia looks too, and sees the quiet, cold forest. In her eyes there is an excitement and energy that the stag knows well.
Gaia sweeps over the pool and out of the cave mouth. She spreads her arms and they become wings, lifting her up and forward. She sweeps along, growing in size and strength. Her skin is emerald green.
The snow melts away from her, letting loose their cold, grudging grips on the dark, hard earth. At first, nothing is visible besides wet and frozen dirt. But then Gaia breathes life, the life the stag gave her, into the air.
Like frenzied snakes, green vines and grass shoot upwards, each with its own voice to sing out the joy of living. Flowers bloom under Gaia’s efforts, shining like iridescent suns between the grass blades.
Trees lose their black darkness and instead blush into shades of rich brown, some darker than others, some so fair they look white. Flowers explode here also; massive clumps of them heavy on the branches.
Gaia does not ignore a single mote of life, bringing one and all into the delightful elation known as Life. Her graceful fingers bring up even the tiniest flowers from the dirt.
Birds sing now, and butterflies flit over the previously bare meadows. Bees begin their work, trundling pollen and nectar to and fro. Some of the animals settle in Gaia’s hair, each beautiful in their own ways, and each adding to her beauty with their merged colors.
The stag paws at one tree in particular, his eyes strangely moist. Gaia knows the tree and flushes with anticipation.
First, her hands smooth out the gnarled flesh of the tree, folding it back and reforming the wood. It is now a young tree, as living as she and all else. Next, the tips of her fingers dance nimbly over the tree, and wherever she touches springs to life, bursting out green shoots and tender leaves. Her eyes, and the light that issues from them, make buds appear, swell and erupt into beautiful white flowers, tinged with a blush of pink.
The stag watches her, and he is happy. Every time Gaia knows how to bring life to this tree, this one tree among others. Every time it is different, but all times beautiful.
Gaia is happy, mirthful beyond words. Her eyes positively glow with all that she sees, loving it and being loved back. There is a synergy between her and nature, humming vibrantly until the forest is filled with the sweet sound. Higher and higher she climbs, spreading life to every corner of the world. No living thing deserves the dark loneliness of death, and she works to fulfill this creed.
But something is wrong.
When her wings spread out over one patch of ground, the seeds of life curl up and die, each one a pain in Gaia’s heart. She cannot understand why this has happened, and tries once more.
Again, the cries of pain and anguish arise to her from the dead ground. She cannot bear it, and turns from the death before her. In doing so, she sees the great black shape of a burned mountain. It is at the base of its slopes that her seeds have died.
Shrinking down with the loss within her, Gaia flits forward, her eyes wide and curious. She remembers something, something terrible and brooding, but she cannot stop herself.
The stag sees her fly up the mountain and nods: it is as it should be.
Gaia gains the summit and stares down at a giant crater within the mountain. There is no life here, the emptiness echoes like a broken thing, pitiful and twisted. The jagged rocks raise themselves up like cries of need, but go unseen and unheeded.
Gaia moves again, slowly and cautiously, her small feet never touching the ground. Her eyes are locked onto the thing at the center of the crater: a massive shoulder of rock, thrown up to the sky like a defiant fist. It is knurled and ugly, deep streaks marking where some great power warped it.
Gaia has never seen such terrible deformity, but she is drawn to it nevertheless. It is almost because of her beauty that she is lured to repugnance.
Her slender fingers reach up, palm outwards to the thing. Her face is changed, steeped in curiosity, terror and attraction all in one. Her jaw is dropped like one dazed. Her skin is green-grey.
Her fingers brush the surface of the rock, breaking the hard crust covering it. Her fingers are torn and stained.
Suddenly, fiery eyes burst open before her. They focus on her, the burning centers like enraged coals. Gaia steps back hurriedly, her confusion now complete. The being recedes into dark smoke and choking mist, but its form glows red throughout, outlining the terrible shape.
Gaia stumbles away, trying to open dead wings. Her feet cut themselves on the rocks and bleed her life out. She clambers to the crater’s lip, hurt and frightened.
The thing bursts out of the clouds, a giant thing of fire and glaring light. It has wings like Gaia, but they are not the same. These wings are bright with fire, but casting a dark shadow at the same time. The eyes blaze with hatred unmatched, flaming out at Gaia. The beak of the giant thing is sharp and cruel, meant for killing and crushing.
Gaia runs now, putting every fiber of her being into her flight. It is useless, for the thing opens its beak and vomits a jet of liquid fire at her, blazing white as it streaks across the sky.
The fire just misses her, and takes the ground beneath her feet instead. The explosion rips up rocks and throws them into the air like leaves. Gaia is lifted from her feet and flung down the mountain.
The force of her fall throws her against the ground, bruising her already wounded body. The pain in her head buzzes like an angry hornet. The blood over her tongue stings like a poison. Dazedly, she stumbles to her feet and sees the beast recede, falling into himself like dying flame.
She has no time to feel relieved, though, for suddenly he reappears, a different form this time. His body is liquid, flowing down the mountain like a fiery flood of death. He oozes ahead dangerously, the blaze never dying down.
Drunkenly Gaia gets to her feet and steps back. Her hands touch the stag’s tree, the one she had spent her life’s-blood to restore. It is still cool, even with death so near, and its energy flows into her. It is goodbye.
Revived, Gaia springs away, even as the beast falls over the tree and consumes it. Gaia’s feet beat painfully over the blackened dirt she once caressed, trying to find a place to hide. Sparks rise up into the air, mingling with the acrid smoke to blind her eyes. Stinging tears fall away from her face, only to sizzle away upon touching the hot ground.
As Gaia leaps through the inferno, she sees and feels the beast behind her, following like a deadly snake. But then, on her other side, the beast flows over rocks and trees, destroying all in his path. Before her also, leaping down to devour her.
She jumps almost too late, escaping death again. The beast crashes over where she had been mere heartbeats ago, scorching the ground. Gaia springs away and grasps up a cliff, each rock a handhold for bare seconds. Up and up she goes, determined to get away from the terrifying being that had exploded over her world.
At the top she pulls back, her chest heaving with each painful breath. The view here is wide, showing all that is left of what she worked so hard to procure. The flames are almost done with their work now, turning over, upheaving, shouldering away and obliterating all signs of life.
Gaia’s eyes are long since dry from the heat, but she cries anew, finding tears welling up from the sorrow in her being. Her skin is dark red in the glare of the fires.
And then, rising up like a hooded cobra, the beast is before her, taller than the cliff he stands upon.
Gaia cannot take anymore, her mind is frantic. She turns away and rushes on blindly, taking paths through the pandemonium that only take her deeper into the hellhole.
Her hands grasp the hard, rough bark of a giant tree, completely devoid of leaves. It is a pine, and was once beautiful, but now it is something for her to hold on to in the deep darkness of despair. Gaia climbs into the branches to get away from the heat, but it is futile; the fires rise with her.
Higher and higher she goes, each branch a new obstacle. She grasps and pulls, recoils and grasps again, pulling up to new summits. Her arms feel as though they will pull from their sockets, and yet she continues; not tirelessly, but hopelessly.
At last she can go no further. Her tender hands burn where the skin has been shredded away to reveal the raw flesh beneath. Her palms bleed and the sticky red trickles down her wrists and arms. Her hair is scorched and singed in many places, and dirty tear streaks mar her once perfect face.
There at the top of the tree, taller even than the cliff, she sees the beast roar up into the form of a bird again. It is an eagle, a cruel bird of prey, and his sharp beak yawns wider than the shadows of night.
His wings sweep backwards and he thrusts his open mouth over her, devouring Gaia.
Everything is dark.
So it goes.



The world is quiet again, but it is a stirring quiet, full of dead voices and ghostly, clawing hands. Ashes float through the air, borne up on the hot air of still-smoldering fires and pulled down into cold pockets of death. Stumps remain where grand trees once stood, and the grasses and flowers are dry dust.
Somewhere in all the ruin, the stag walks staidly, his eyes seeing all. He knows that it had to be done, as it had been done before.
His hooves come to rest before a patch of ash, distinguishable from the rest of the wasteland for its lighter color. There is a faint sign of life here, dormant, almost dead, but there nonetheless.
The stag leans down low and breaths out deeply.
His breath, hot and moist, carries a rejuvenating spark of life, a caressing touch and a comforting tone. It brushes the ash, stirring it up into a spiral.
For a moment, the spiral rises into the air, gaining form and feeling. Too soon, though, it falls back to the ground, losing what shape it had. It is Gaia, smaller and more frail than ever before.
She is weak beyond speaking, and there is an aura of age about her that the stag knows well. She wraps herself in her hair, hugging it close about her in the cold. Her face she buries in her hands, despairing of all things about her. Her hair is wispy and tangled. In places, her skin flakes away like rotten parchment. Her skin is a dead grey.
The stag watches her carefully, knowing that she must come to trust him.
Without moving his lips, he speaks.
“Dear child.”
It is a message of love, passed from heart to heart, with no need to be spoken aloud. She understands it, but she cannot swallow the bitter meaning behind it. She knows what the stag asks of her, but she is tired, oh so tired. It seems so useless to carry on.
The stag nudges her gently with his nose, and she turns her face towards him. His eyes are large, staring deeply into her own soul. He looks away from her and his muzzle points towards a white tree she knows well. It is gnarled again, deformed and scorched.
Gaia closes her eyes and nods her head resignedly. She will try.
The stag lowers his muzzle towards her and she grasps his horns with what little strength she has. The stag paces off towards the tree, his hooves finding a path delicately.
Gaia leans against the hard horns and rests her weary head, trying to understand the pain the stag has inflicted on her heart. She knows it was his doing, but she does not understand why. If she could have one question to answer for all the pain and torture, she would ask it. But she does not have the breath for it, and she knows the stag would not answer her. They continue in silence.
As they go, the stag begins to pick up speed, lifting his hooves off the ground for longer periods of time. Over burnt stump and smoldering log they go, each second passing faster.
As the view goes by, Gaia sees what the firebird did to her land, her love, her heart. It stings even worse than before, and she squeezes her eyes shut to block out the sorrow. Tears flow again, and three crystal drops land in the dust below the stag’s flying hooves.
For a moment, the ground drinks up the water thirstily, and it is lost instantly. But suddenly, like a worm coming out of the ground, a live green shoot pokes its head from the ash. Two others follow, and a small patch of the wasteland turns slightly green.
Gaia watches, even as the patch is lost behind her. Somehow, the sight of those small shoots gives her new life. She feels a wind flowing through her hair, fresh and lively. She spreads her hands out and suddenly they are wings again, lifting her up and above the stag, away from his horns.
Her body transforms, growing to the size of the sky above. The flakes of parchment-like old skin fall and give way to a fresh body, smooth and perfect. Her skin is green-blue.
Gaia’s hair becomes a long train that sweeps down low to the ground, transforming into a heavy rain-cloud where it nears the earth. Down below, the stag gallops to keep up with Gaia, his heels splattered with the new rain.
At first, only more shoots like the first grow, twisting upwards and along the ground. But suddenly, like cannon bursts, trees explode from the ground, flowers return and the luscious carpet of grass is existent once again. The restored new stag’s tree is a dappled yellow-and-blue.
Gaia soars above the growing trees, her face radiating bliss. She closes her eyes to feel the life-bearing wind again, knowing that all is well. The trees grow even taller than before, and the green of the leaves is a deeper, brighter and more dynamic color.
Finally, Gaia’s heart is at peace. She looks once more upon her land, the world of life, and exhales a deep breath of excitement and satisfaction.
For a while, all will be well.



The stag knows the time has come again. He searches, knowing that it must appear. This time, the water is colder, the snow thicker, and the ice crystal larger. The stag breathes into the air, but the mist of his breath turns away from the crystal and falls to the water like a miserable phantom. He breathes again, more forcibly this time, and the breath melts the crystal into a clear drop of water.
It falls to the pool and lands, throwing about water drops. The drops cause more splashes and a form rises from the general spatter. It is a male, and his powerful body ripples with muscle. His wings, spread out, are wider than Gaia had ever been, and his vigor in replenishing the earth is unmatched.
The stag is timeless, knowing and seeing all. He has no hold on any single moment of time, only knowing that each happening has an intended purpose and place in the years. He has seen countless number of Gaias and Firebirds rise again and again, neither prevailing, neither dying forever. He knows that it will continue in this way until the end of Time.
But somehow, an emotion tires in his unfathomable bosom.
He misses the beautiful girl, the Gaia that loved him from the beginning.
“I am sorry, Daughter,” the stag says, speaking again in the voice of the heart.
He paws at the base of his tree, enjoying the spicy smell of the giant red flowers the male Gaia put there.
It is different.

POST 1/3

First, I'll have to apologize for not doing this in the previous days. I had limited Internet connection, which I gave to e-mail check. I haven't been reviewing, except for two poems which I forced to do for review day. So, I hope you understand, Jen.

I'll be dividing this review into three posts. You told me to destroy this. But after scanning the reviews below, I don't think I'll be able to do that.

Anyway, here it goes. I'm not going to a super nitpicker. I'll try instead to generalize grammatical nitpicks, if I find any.

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The stag paces slowly through the quiet forest.

There is snow all about, muffling the sound of his hooves. There are no other sounds to drown out in whiteness.

The stag knows where she is, and he knows what to do. They have done it before, she and him, and they will do it again until the end.

I think the intro is a bit... choppy? I think this will be better if these lines were all in one paragraph. I don't know why, but that would bring up the images quickly, and the setting will take place at once. No confusion whatsoever.

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Some of the animals settle in Gaia’s hair, each beautiful in their own ways, and each adding to her beauty with their merged colors.

Um, the pronoun each is singular. That means, you use his with it.

...each beautiful in his own way...

We all know that him is masculine, but it is understood that it refers to both genders. Now, maybe you're one of those who uses their to avoid hints of sexism. This would actually be OK in informal writings and conversations. But in this certain piece, it doesn't seem appropriate. So I would suggest, if you want to be fair, use him or her.

...each beautiful in his or her own way...

Jent! Thank you so much for the request!

I'm not sure I'm "qualified" to review this. It has so many deeper meanings, such profound insights on life. I'm pretty sure I didn't understand everything.

That being said, I loved this piece. The only part that confused me was the beginning. The whole "he/she" happening. The stag and she were used to this experience. I was really confused. I had diffulty picturing Gaia's awakening.

The rest of the story was beautiful. The detail and description flowed effortlessly from the page to my brain. I loved reading this, probably more than someone who has seen Fantasia because it was all new for me, know what I mean?

And that is all. I apologise for any typos but I am typing this from my ipod.
Thank you for such a great read, Jenthura: you never disappoint.

Tanya

Thanks Born2! I'l admit that I skipped quickly over the part where the drop hits the pool. It was beautiful in the movie, I could never match it.
Thanks again!

Hi Jenthura! Sorry I'm so late getting to this. Hopefully you will find it in your heart to forgive me. ^_~

Firstly, I have to say that I was really excited to see this. For one thing, I love Stravinsky. For another thing, I love Firebird. For another thing I love Fantasia! Admittedly, I don't really know Fantasia 200 that well, but I must have seen the other one a hundred times. ^_^ At first, I was skeptical about reviewing a Fan-fic... but Stravinsky fan-fic? This is so awesome, it knock my socks off.

I'm not going to go through and do the line-by-line nitpicks for this (because I don't have time right now) but there were a lot of awkward phrases and strange word choices. Also, you have to watch out for repetition. There are a lot of places where you say "the stag" or "life" or "Gaia" multiple times in one paragraph and since your paragraphs are short, that comes off as very repetitious and a bit awkward to read. I suggest you read through the whole thing out loud--that can help a lot for things like this. One other thing you should watch out for is "suddenly." People use that word a lot to try and build suspense or surprise, but I don't think it actually works very well--it comes off as a little forced and corny, in my opinion, especially if you start a sentence with it. For example:

Suddenly, fiery eyes burst open before her.

This is a shocking part in the movie, and in the music (I literally jumped out of my chair when I watched it just now, even though I knew it was coming) and I understand that you're trying to emulate that... but I think the "suddenly" works against you. It would be more effective in my opinion if you portrayed the suddenness with your writing instead: maybe you could have longer, more flowery sentences before and then have the description of the firebird be short, emphatic sentences? Something like that, I think, would be better than using "suddenly."
Here are some other instances where you use "suddenly" and I think you should change it:

She has no time to feel relieved, though, for suddenly he reappears, a different form this time.

But suddenly, like a worm coming out of the ground, a live green shoot pokes its head from the ash.

She spreads her hands out and suddenly they are wings again, lifting her up and above the stag, away from his horns.

But suddenly, like cannon bursts, trees explode from the ground, flowers return and the luscious carpet of grass is existent once again.

Okay. It took me way too long to say that. Let's get on with the review.

I think you did really well portraying the moods. I watched the Fantasia scene right before reading this so that I would have it fresh in my mind, and you really portray the delicateness and simple beauty of the animation style quite well. I am also really intrigued with your whole "this is the way it always happens" take on it. When I was watching the film, I felt like it was the apocalypse... but reading your fan-fic, I felt like it was a periodical death/rebirth cycle that is natural and expected. I was surprised when you mentioned the stag thinking everything was "as it should be" when Gaia met the firebird. In the film, I sort of get the sense that the stag is sweet and innocent and doesn't really understand what's going on but wants to help... but in your piece, the stag is the orchestrator of the whole thing. I love that take on it. I am also intrigued by the fact that you named the girl after a Greek goddess. Of course, it works perfectly--but did you make up that connection or is that what Disney had in mind? I'm just curious. Anyway, I loved the way you described this because the firebird is terrible and ferocious but yet I have the feeling that without him, the Gaias couldn't do their work. It's almost like they need some ugliness in order to create beauty. But that makes the firebird beautiful too--he is making a clean slate, so to speak, for nature to regenerate. And since the firebird is, essentially, a phoenix, that connection is perfect. That is all in the film as well, but what you add to it is a sense that this happens all the time, and I loved that idea.

One thing that I noticed that I think you could work on is that the firebird doesn't seem very big. In the film, he is a huge, imposing force--a vast expanse of flame and destruction. But I don't really get the same sense from your writing--for all I can tell, he might be not much bigger than Gaia. Actually, in general I think your imagery could use to be more overall, more zoomed out. I'd like to get a better general picture of the landscape so I could really appreciate the difference between Gaia's flowering forest and the firebird's immense swathes of ashes and burnt trees.

My main problem with this piece is that I think you're focusing too hard on making it like the Fantasia sketch. Yes, the film is beautiful, and I can certainly see how it inspired you... but I think you should leave it at inspiration. This piece feels (until the end) like it's just a very detailed synopsis of the film. I know, I just rambled on about how yours is different from the film, but let me explain: let's take for example what you were talking about with borntobeawriter. The scene where Gaia emerges could be really powerful, but you shied away from it because you don't think you could "match" what they did in the film. Of course you can't match it! That's film, this is writing. They're completely different beasts. And I feel like this piece wishes it was something it's not.

So rather than only describe scenes from the film which you think you can "match," why not do more? Why not take advantage of the fact that you are writing a story, not an animation, and take off from there? Go ahead, make the scene where Gaia appears as elaborate as you want to--and don't even watch Disney's version while writing. Who cares if it doesn't "match" at all? You are writing something new, not a replica of the film. Disney provided the inspiration, but I think it's time for you to make this your own. Don't worry about describing everything in the film--put more emphasis on the parts that you think are more important and leave out the parts that you think aren't necessary. Heck, you can even make things up! Listen to the music, maybe, and just let your imagination take you.

That's my suggestion anyway. The thing is, the whole time while I was reading this my mind was picturing the film and I don't think I would have really understood the whole thing if I hadn't seen the film right before. I'd really like to see this stand alone as a piece separate from the film.

All in all, though, I really like this! I think it's a great seed for something, and I absolutely adore the fact that you've taken inspiration from Stravinsky. I would just like to see this be something that someone who hadn't seen the film would be able to appreciate just as much as someone who had. ^_^

I hope this helps! Please let me know if you've got any questions/comments/concerns/allergies/arguments/etc.

a

Hey, Jenth! I'm here to review! ^_^

So, I actually have just a few nitpicks that I found that perhaps you might want to look at. They're not much or anything quite grand but if you said to destroy this and I'm having a hard time destroying such a wonderful piece of work so I just came up with this. Do as you please. ^^

Her slim hands, cold like water, but warm with vibrant life, touch the stag's muzzle and caress the wild tangles of his hair

I'm finding a tad difficult to picture someone cold but warm. I think I know what you're trying to say but maybe there is a better way to word this part? Sorry if this is too nitpicky, my head just caught it and thought maybe I'd let you know. You might want a second opinion on it before you decide to do anything.

She spreads her arms and they become wings, lifting her up and forward. She sweeps along, growing in size and strength. Her skin is emerald green.

The placement of the last part was kind of weird. It felt out of of place and too short to fluidly be part of the description that you were building. I noticed that you did this for every occasion in which Gaia changed. I think that perhaps you could have made it a bit more creative. I don't think the simplicity matches with the rest of the piece. This is my thinking, though so don't take it seriously unless you agree. ^^

and wherever she touches springs to life

Wherever or whatever?



Firstly, I want to let you know that I thought this was a really wonderful piece of work and you did a pretty amazing job on it. I think that even though I haven't seen "The Firebird" I feel like I want to watch it now, thanks to you. However, you totally spoiled it for me, right? Well...I'll still watch it anyway and maybe this way, I'll understand your piece a little more. Actually, I planned on watching it and then giving you a review but I didn't have the time and I kept forgetting so I decided to just review this and do what I could without the whole information thing. I don't think it'll be too bad. I actually have more good things to say rather than bad, so sorry. :c (I know you're secretly happy about this!)

So, let's start with the introduction shall we? I thought it was good, a slow puller but it was interesting and subtly smooth that gave me a warm feeling. It wasn't exactly the first sentence or paragraph that pulled the reader in but it grew so ten points for that. However, there's still some parts of this in which the descriptions were hard to picture. I think I mentioned this in one of the nitpicks above. Anyway, you might want to take a second look over this to catch some of them. I think you were trying to make Gaia come off as a few different things. Mysterious, cold but warm and all these contrasting items are difficult to write and express without making it sound. You did a pretty great job developing her character and 'form'. Just watch out for the little things, I suppose.

Also, I want to compliment you on your description and imagery. They were quite wonderful and I loved the story. It made me sad in a happy way <- if that makes any sense at all. It was quite magical and at first I was afraid I wasn't going to get the story but I figured it out...I think. Basically, it's the cycle of life, seasons - perhaps? I dunno, a combination of both? Anyway, the ending of it was a bit pitiful for the stag but you made it memorable.

One more thing, I had a question regarding the tree. Exactly was is the meaning behind it? I think that there's a deeper meaning behind it but I don't get it...

Okay, so that's all for the review. Sorry if I wasn't much help. I don't really know what more you could work on. I know that there were some parts in which I felt like you continued to express or explain actions or feelings even when the meaning was already given out and it made it drag in some areas but it's not much. I'm probably referring to the beginning of the battle scene between the Firebird and Gaia. I'd take this comment with a grain of salt, really. Overall, I thought it was a wonderful, beautiful piece and I enjoyed reading it and being able to review it.

Good job, Jenth! Sorry about not being much of a help but if you have any questions at all or want me to give a better explanation on anything that I've said, just let me know. I'll do what I can.

All the best,
-Pink

Azila - Wow, I really didn't think I do that. Really, make it my own work? Do things not expressed in the film? Woah, what you're suggesting is near...Disney blasphemy.
But seriously, I never thought of doing anything other than following the film as closely as possible and putting my idea behind it (The idea that the story is a cycle and that the stag instigates it). I'll definitely try hard.
I really hate repetition, so I'm surprised by the amount that showed up in this. You're right, I need to fix that.
Also, I chose Gaia because it means Earth, and also because it's such a beautiful name. If Disney ever used that name for her, I wouldn't know, but I wouldn't be surprised if they did.
Mucho gratitude!

Pink - "It made me sad in a happy way" How is that not different from, "Her slim hands, cold like water, but warm with vibrant life..."? Actually, what I meant by my line was that she was cold, but there was an energy coexisting with that cold. When I get very cold, my hands have a jerky, edgy way of moving, almost uncontrollably. This was the feeling I was trying to convey with Gaia, but I guess I should not have used the word 'warmth'. You get what I mean?
Thanks a bunch, Pink!

Hey Jent! Sorry it's taken me a bit to get to reviewing; thanks for waiting.

Okay, so not much I can say after everyone else (especially Azila's monster review). The story was interesting; I've never seen Fantasia, but I'm going to look it up after this! I enjoyed the part with the firebird; it was a good action scene, that got the heart pumping.

However, I feel like there was a lot missing from this story; explanations of the stag, who seems to be some kind of magical, eternal deity or something, and then the reincarnations of Gaia. I don't fully understand what happened in the beginning; the stag awakened her, then sacrificed her so that it could bring about spring again? Is that what it was signifying?

I also didn't understand the whole part with the tree; what made that tree so important to the stag? Why'd it have her spend so much time on making it young?

Sorry I sound so nitpicky and clueless; there's really nothing else I can say or critique. The story telling was great and I love
your imagery; you have a wonderful way of depicting such beautiful scenes.

Okay, so that's really all I have to say. You've got a great piece here, I guess I just need to see the clip to fully understand it! Keep up the good work.

Thanks for your comments, RH, and don't worry about the wait.
I decided not to explain much, and leave most of it open to the imagination. It was, after all, how the movie was presented to me: no explanations, no attachments, no strings. If such a service was given to me, I felt that at least a token amount could be carried on. I did inject my idea to this story (since, in the film, the stag is almost clearly distressed) since that was the purpose of the piece.
The tree has spiritual meaning I'm sure. What it meant to the animators I'm not sure, but to me it represents the Tree of Good and Evil in the Garden of Eden. The change here is that the Gaias created the tree (Or gave it new life, since the tree is not really created) not the stag (Who is, you might say, a representation of God) In this world, God did not create the world once, but many times. Each time, he creates the creator, instead of simply creating everything directly. The Gaias experience great joy in recreating the tree (which, in the film, is never completely reduces to ashes) because they are extensions of the stag (God) and thus experience his joy. It is because of the happiness both feel over the rejuvenation of the tree that the stag has Gaias 'create' the tree.
I'm sorry if that's confusing in any way.
Watch the film.

Hi Jenthrua

I think writing fan fiction is really hard. I've seen this film a few times so I wanted to see if you could add a different angle or idea to it and I was really pleasantly surprised. You have a very good skill in storytelling and writing and making all the elements stand together. Although this was obviously helped by the strong plot of the film, this could stand alone by itself.

The one thing I would work on is to pick up the pace of it a bit. Sometimes it feels you’re to bogged down with writing the very good descriptions that the piece is not moving forward.

Besides that, very good.

Hmm, that's certainly a good point, Gracie. So far I've been thinking I rushed the firebird part. I guess I'll have to look at it again.
Thanks!

Wow... I'm late...


Hi, Jenth. Sorry I took so long to get here. 
  So I like really like this alot, I've never actually seen Fantasia, but I don't think that really matters.... Now then... PAY BACK TIME MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *cough* *cough* *choke*....

...ahem...

""The stag paces slowly through the quiet forest. 
There is snow all about, muffling the sound of his hooves. There are no other sounds to drown out in whiteness""

First sentence: I don't really like the word 'paces'. It is snow he's walking through, which no matter what you are it's difficult to walk through... Trudges? Maybe would be more appropriate...?? I don't know, just my opinion. 
Second and third sentences:  'There is snow all about' isn't very descriptive. In fact I really feel as though this entire piece could be much more descriptive. "The wood is covered in a blanket of pure, white snow, which stifles his every step."
   'There are no other sounds to drown out in the whiteness' < this, I feel is a bit unnecessary. Either revise it or cut it out all together??

""The stag knows where she is, and he knows what to do."" 
Obviously, "she" is an important character. I think "she" should be capitalized just to magnify Her importance
 
""They have done it before, she and him, and they will do it again until the end.""
Capitalize the word "end", too. 


""He enters the cave, the water rippling away in protest at his touch, but returning to him to caress his body""

  So now he's in a cave... Personally I think you should tell us that he is approaching a cave, so it doesn't feel so weird when suddenly he enters the cave... Does that make any sense because I just kind of confused myself...? Also, the actions of the water I find a little confusing...

""There is a face in it, a slow, waking face, hidden behind endless curls of luscious hair.""

I almost feel like this sentence is awkward, especially when you describe the face as 'a slow, waking one'. 

""The skin is crystal blue.""
  
You repeat the word crystal alot, so I think personally you should find another word to describe 'blue'

""Her slim hands, cold like water, but warm with vibrant life, touch the stag’s muzzle and caress the wild tangles of his hair.""

Again you've almost overused a word here, 'Water'... Maybe ice or snow?

""These wings are bright with fire, but casting a dark shadow at the same time.""

'Casting' should be 'cast'

""Dazedly, she stumbles to her feet and the beast recede, falling into himself like dying flame. ""

Dazedly sounds odd... Dazed??  And  "recede"= 'recedes'. Other than that,  great use of simile.

""She grasps and pulls, recoils and grasps again, pulling up to new summits""

  I think you mean 'gasps' in pain rather than 'grasps' in pain : D

""As they go, the stag begins to pick up speed, lifting his hooves off the ground for longer periods of time. ""

I believe this could be described differently... 'lifting his hooves off the ground for longer periods of time' could be changed to 'Until he is bounding/galloping gracefully over the charred land' the first version seems...weak...

Okay so that's about all that really stood out to me. 
   
I loved the story, and before I started the review I looked up the Firebird to sort of compare. 
   I like how you changed a few things from the original. You didn't overdo it and you didn't make it an exact copy, which can always be appreciated. 
   There were some moments when reading the descriptions when just had to stop and say: 'whoa...' 
   AWESOME job on the descriptions. 
You have a very nice style, too, by the way, very gripping. 

This review isn't very long, I'm sorry. It wasn't the length that took forever it was me being exhausted...and by exhausted, I mean a procrastinator. 
   
So yeah, that's all I have to say, I really hope it helps, if not, my excuse is that everything I wrote was written while I was tweaking out on Red Line. So... Yeah.... Keep writing, dude : D


 !!!Peace!!!

Thanks, Beil, it was about time you got your payback fun and slaughtered a work of mine
About the 'grasps/gasps' I really did mean for it to be 'grasps'. In my mind, I see her grasping a branch, pulling up to it and then continuing the cycle blindly. She is pretty much crazy with fear and pain by this point, so I wanted the repetitiveness of the sentence to emphasize that.
Makes sense?
Also, you picked up one typo Azila didn't get (recede/recedes) and you did point out a very odd spot in my writing (lifting his hooves off the ground for longer periods of time). Funny I didn't see that before
Jenth

In the second pharagraph, I suggest:

The stag breathed a sigh of warm moist breath. Spearing down to a large/smal pool, clusters of thin, ice crystals hung from the roof.

Ah, to verify the size of the pool? Thanks for the suggestion, Writingruff!