A pudu is the world’s smallest deer, and it stands in quiet innocence beneath the moonlight -- its gaze turned toward something beyond the human eye. Behind the trees, a hunter waits, rifle raised. The moment is suspended, not yet shattered by sound or consequence. This piece is not about the shot. It’s about the second before. The instant when awakening is still possible — for us. The Pudu represents all that is delicate and endangered. He is a mini deer and highly desired for his skin, but he is one of the few left. He is not only in the natural world in which we live, but within ourselves. My painting, hopefully, asks us to look - really look, at what we're destroying — not out of malice, but ignorance. The cost of forgetting the fragile is extinction. Awakening begins the moment we choose to stop looking away. This isn't just about a deer. It's about what we lose without realizing it — the fragile beings that make up the soul of this Earth. The ones most people will never see, never know, never mourn. The moonlight doesn’t choose sides. The grass still grows, but somewhere deep within this scene, a question is asked — quietly, urgently: “Can we see what we’re doing before it’s too late?” The Earth remembers its gentle ones, even if we forget them, and eventually, there is a price to pay.