Auntie Ena said joyfully, “Those were your fathers.”
Nothing else was said, and the group moved apart.
Auntie Ena went with her children into the nearest patch of undergrowth. That was the way they always went. Bambi and his mother had to go right across the meadow to the oak tree to get to the route they usually took. For a long time he remained silent until finally he asked, “Did they not see us?”
His mother understood what he meant, and replied, “Of course they saw us. They see everything.”
Bambi felt shy, and did not dare to ask any more questions, but the wish to do so overcame his shyness. “Why ...” he began, and then he was silent again.
His mother helped him. “What is it you want to say, my child?”
“Why didn’t they stay with us?”
“They don’t stay with us,” his mother answered, “only now and then ...”
“Why didn’t they speak to us?”
His mother said, “They don’t speak to us any more ... only, now and then ... We have to wait till they come, and then we have to wait till they talk to us ... if they want to.”