You're not going to have any of this. With a slight kick of your hind legs, you push the buck off you and you start running, no matter what direction as long as it's away from the herd. After this encounter you are determined not to get raped once more, even if you have to kick your mate to death. The trees of the forest are zooming past you in the corners of your eyes, and until now you didn't pay attention how exactly you managed to run on these hooves, but you managed to instictively make great leaps on all four of them simultaneously. Now figuring you are far away enough from the herd, you suddenly stop for a moment, your front hooves kicking up a bit of dust as you brake. You stare at them for a moment, twisting and bending them a bit in curiosity: they're hard as rock, and yet agile enough to move as fluently as ever. Checking out your surroundings, you don't even know where in the forest your impulses have taken you. You don't see the herd anywhere, or any landmark that you know -- frankly, you're lost! You trot around a bit more to see if you can find your way again, but to no avail. The evening begins to fall, and you ponder what to do as your puffy tail gently blows in the summer breeze...