Lisle stood next to Ma-Marn’s trunk in the cottage, face serious, pack on her back. Mina stood beside her. Sunlight streamed in through the window, lighting elongated squares on the worn, woven rug of indeterminate color, covering the floor.
​
“I want you to have this,” Mina said, lifting the lid of Ma-Marn’s trunk and carefully removing the fabric covered Book of One.

“Buh…buh…but…”

“No arguments. You take it. You might have need of it.”

Lisle reverently took the book and unshouldering her pack, placed the book carefully within.

“Th…th…” Lisle swiped at her eyes, as tears started to run down her cheeks.

“I know. Hush now, or you’ll have me crying like a younger.” Mina put her arms around Lisle.  “I’m going to miss you little sister.”

“Mm..mm...me t…too.” Lisle hugged her sister hard and let the tears flow.

Wiping her eyes, Mina insisted on accompanying Lisle to the Guardian’s clearing. Having already weighed down Lisle’s pack with provisions to the very limit of Lisle’s ability to carry it, Mina wanted to bring still more to Gareth.

Calming, Lisle looked at Mina’s preparations questioningly. “H…he’s a huh…huh…hunter, you know.” Lisle said, as if that explained everything. Then she stared as pink rose up in Mina’s neck and traveled up into her cheeks. Lisle rolled her eyes.

“He’ll need more than just meat, you know,” Mina replied, fussing with a piece of red fabric covering the huge basket she intended to bring, and not looking at Lisle.

“F…fine,” said Lisle, smiling at the still blushing Mina.

They started out on the long walk that would take them to the Guardian’s new location. Fortunately, it was early. Early enough that the air was warm but not too warm for an enjoyable excursion. A gentle breeze played in the top branches of the trees as the path they trod twisted through the woods.

“I can hardly believe that Jessamin and Farn gave you permission to go,” said Mina as they walked.

Lisle looked at her sister and nodded. “M…me too.”

“They must really trust the Guardian.”

Lisle nodded again, “A…a…and Guh…Guh…Gareth.”

“Yes, Gareth,” Mina smiled and sighed.

“Yuh…you a…and Guh…Gareth huh?”

Mina looked at Lisle, startled. “Well… not yet… but what would be so wrong with that?” She finished in a rush. Mina’s face turned pink again. She hefted the basket and marched ahead.

Lisle smiled and shook her head, following along in her wake.

A morning of walking brought them to the Guardian’s clearing.

Ell was trotting about, flapping her wings. Gareth was carefully packing his scant possessions. He looked up as the girls entered the clearing, his gaze immediately drawn to Mina. Smiling he put down his pack. He sauntered over to them, or tried to as he barely missed a root that stuck up from the ground in front of him. He did a fast, awkward hop over the root, arms flailing. Recovering his balance and his dignity, he approached Mina.

“Day of the One, Mina.” Then it was as if words failed him. He just looked at her, lips twitching upward.

“Day of the One, Gareth.” Mina, cheeks pink, looked up at him.

Lisle stood next to Mina, looking back and forth between them. She made a disgusted noise and walked over to greet Ell, who had stopped running about and was watching the proceedings.

Lisle hugged Ell about the neck and turned to the pair seemingly locked in place, “L…let’s g…g…go.”

Mina, as if remembering herself, blinked and shoved the large basket toward Gareth.

“I thought you might need some travel food.”

Gareth grasped the basket by the handle and then quickly put his other hand underneath to support the bottom, as the weight of the basket almost dropped from his grasp.

“Thank you, Mina.”

He looked at the basket in his hands and then at Mina. Haltingly, he said, “I’d…I’d…” Then he blurted out in a rush, “I’d like to come back and see you after I get the Guardian and Lisle safely to Guardian Mountain.”

Mina’s face lit up, blue eyes wide, staring up at him. ”I’d like that very much.”

Gareth’s whole face beamed, eyes crinkling, mouth grinning, and cheeks turning rosy.

They looked at each other for what seemed like forever to Lisle.

“Well, shine it, we’d better get going,” said Gareth.

Mina held out her hand to him and he put the basket down and took it in both of his.

“Will you wait?” He asked, his face serious now.

Mina’s stared into his eyes. “Yes.”

Gareth nodded, grinning again, released her hand and bent to lift the basket and walk back to where his pack lay on the ground. Then he stood, looking perplexed as he studied the basket and then his pack, and then the basket again.

“I’ll do that,” said Mina, and she bustled over and made quick work of stuffing his pack full.

Gareth just gazed at her, his lips curved upward, eyes soft.

Finished packing, Mina stepped over to Lisle and Ell, nodded her head respectfully to the Guardian and gave Lisle another hug.

“Stay safe, Lisle. Come back as soon as you can.”

Just then Moss buzzed into the clearing and landed upon the Guardian’s back. A tiny bag hung across her chest. She looked from Lisle, to Mina and then Gareth and nodded.

“Would you look at that,” said Gareth. “Moss is coming with us. Usually, flier folk stay close to home.” He moved closer to where she sat now upon a gleaming ruby ridge on Ell’s back.  “We are honored to have you join us, Moss.” Moss bowed her head in acknowledgment. She lifted into the air, wings whirring and looked back and forth between Gareth and Lisle.

“Ready to go?” Asked Gareth.

Moss nodded once and started off to the North, toward Guardian Mountain. Ell turned and with a running leap and a downward sweep of her wings, took to the air. Lisle started off after them, then turned to wave to Mina. Gareth gathered up his pack and smiled back at Mina. “One keep you,” he said.

“One keep you all,” said Mina, tears in her eyes as she waved her hand.

Lisle stood at the side of the clearing. Moss perched on Lisle’s shoulder; iridescent wings draped gracefully down her back. Both watched the Guardian avidly. She trotted about, flapping wings grown surprisingly long, spreading thrice her height when she opened them. The Guardian stood with her head as tall as Lisle’s now, carried on an increasingly graceful, elongating neck. Lisle was surprised to realize that her Guardian had grown prodigiously in just this short time. Her tail had grown too and now looked proportionate to the rest of her length, tapering to a delicate, crimson ridged curl at the tip.

Over the past seven days the Guardian had been increasingly active about her clearing. She ran with her wallowing gait in one direction as far as she could, flapping her wings, with tail held stiffly out behind her. Then she turned and ran back again, flapping all the while. After several days of this, she started to lift off the ground in short hops, flapping hard.

It’s a beautiful day for flight practice today, thought Lisle, as a gentle summer breeze wafted through the leaves and carried the fragrance of sweet bush to her. The sky was pure sapphire, with just a trace of wispy, white clouds high overhead. 

Here she comes again! Lisle could feel her Guardian’s growing excitement as each hop went a little higher, a little further.

The Guardian reached the end of the clearing and turned, starting off on still another attempt, only this time she flapped harder still and lifted right off the ground. Deep wing sweeps lifted her higher and tucking up her legs, curled talons against her belly, she flew gracefully in the air all the way to the other side of the clearing. When she landed, hind claws now outstretched in front of her, she dug long gouges in the ground.

Lisle was jumping and yelling and clapping her hands, triumph filling her. Maybe it was hers or maybe her Guardian’s, it didn’t matter. Moss, having leapt off Lisle’s bouncing shoulder, was turning joyous somersaults in the air. The Guardian bobbed her head up and down and flapped her wings, turning full circle. An influx of multi-hued flier folk suddenly surrounded her, flitting about, patting and touching her, their high, bell-like laughter carried on the breeze. 

The Guardian turned several more triumphant circles, wings waving and head keeping time, then folding her wings neatly to her sides, she waddled over to a sun-drenched spot in the clearing and lay down. Raising her head, she looked at Lisle, blinking and nodding as if in invitation. Lisle was happy to oblige and sat in her accustomed place, leaning against her Guardian’s side. The flyer folk drifted away on gem-like wings, the excitement now past. All except Moss who chose to sit upon a branch above the Guardian’s head, tiny legs dangling down, looking out over the clearing.

The Guardian turned her head, her neck now long enough to allow her to look directly at Lisle even as Lisle leaned back against the Guardian’s side. Lisle was surprised as the Guardian moved her muzzle just in front of Lisle’s face. She could see the large, developing teeth in the Guardian’s increasingly powerful scaled jaws, and her crimson crown ridges standing upright, huge golden eyes looking deeply into her own. Lisle felt no fear.

The Guardian moved her head closer still, then gently touched the center of Lisle’s forehead with the very end of her muzzle. A light tap.

Lisle blinked and her eyes closed as peace suddenly descended upon her, washing away the triumph of the morning and indeed, any thoughts at all. She felt herself drifting slowly downward, comforted and relaxed. It was a delicious sensation, like floating deeper and deeper through an ocean of warm water. It was silent here and so peaceful.

She drifted down until she found herself in a place infused with light. The light filled her, dissolving into every part of her being.

She gradually became aware of a bright web of light stretching out in all directions, above, below and surrounding her. It came to her that these were the Pathways of the One. Under other circumstances she would have been terribly excited to see what she had only heard of in Ma-Marn’s stories, but here she was so deeply peaceful that it seemed natural that she should be able to perceive the Pathways.

Somehow, she knew that she, Lisle, was a part of the Pathways, a bright spot on the web. Looking about herself, she could see that her light shone out from her a clear, light blue.

Her Guardian, Ell… Her name is Ell! Realized Lisle with delight. Ell was a part of it too, another bright spot on the web, closely linked with Lisle’s. Ell’s light shone a deep, indigo blue.

It was all so beautiful and perfect. She looked to see a lovely spot of gem-like green off to her left. She knew this was Mina, though she didn’t know how she knew. And there was Gareth, a light, spring green. Moss was there too, sparkling opalescent amidst a closely gathered pattern of many similar lights. Looking further she saw Jessamin, a garnet-hued red. Near Jessamin she saw Farn and then others, many, many others stretching off into the distance.

The colors all danced, pulsing and alive, blending into a stunning, moving pattern. It reminded her of the weaving of individual threads in one of Ma-Marn’s woven tapestries that together made a whole. Each thread in its place. Each thread essential to the whole and to every other thread. It was indescribably beautiful.

As she continued to gaze about, she saw places where the spots of light glimmered more darkly, the hues muted with grays and blacks and browns, though no less beautiful for that. It was just as in Ma-Marn’s tapestries, the dark colors setting off the light.

The thought occurred to her that the real beauty was in the contrast, the balance of dark and light.

Her awareness drifted to an area down below her, where a dark cloud, like the black smoke of the tar burners she’d seen in Greystone, obscured any light that might be within. Within that darkness there was no contrast and no beauty. There was no balance or perfection there. She felt an ominous sense of wrongness about it. It scared her, and she quickly turned her attention away from it, slowly drifting upward.

The scene changed, and fear forgotten, she saw a large, crater-topped mountain, surrounded by forest. Lisle felt and heard a word spoken in her mind, “Home,” and knew it was her Guardian speaking. Lisle felt such love and longing associated with this place and knew that Ell wanted to go home.

Lisle focused more closely until she hovered right over the crater, looking down into the mountain. There she saw crystal glittering on every wall of the cavern, diamond bright where the sun touched it, and glittering still, even in the shadows. She longed to go within and touch the sparkling surfaces that she saw. She felt a strong impulse to breathe in all that diamond brightness, but she felt herself drawn backwards and up.

Lisle sat, feeling deeply peaceful, as she gradually became aware of the cool hardness of the ground upon which she sat. She felt a slight cramp in her legs and stretched them out in front of her. She smelled the light, floral scent that she associated with her Guardian and felt the warmth upon her back where she leaned against her Guardian’s side. Lisle opened her eyes. The Guardian watched her with gold flecked, round-pupiled eyes. Lisle leaned forward and threw her arms about her Guardian’s neck, saying, “Ell. My Ell.”

A short while later, Lisle saw Gareth enter the clearing with several fat ground fliers strung over his shoulder. Waving to Lisle and giving a slight head bow to the Guardian, he set to preparing them for cooking. Lisle got up and joined him at the fire pit he used for cooking. She stood silently watching him until he looked up at her.

”E…Ell,” she gestured toward her Guardian, “wh…wh…wants to go h…h…h…home.”

Gareth looked at her, squinting his eyes, then looked up at the Guardian. “Ell, huh, that’s a good name.” He absently continued preparing his meal.

With a jerk of his head, he looked back at Lisle, his eyes opening wide. He stood up, hands on his hips, “Home? You mean Guardian Mountain?” He looked over at the Guardian, resting quietly in the sun, head and tail curled about her. Then he glared at Lisle. He threw an arm out toward the North. “Spines of the Guardian, Lisle, how are we supposed to get her all the way there? She’s not even flying yet.”

Lisle looked at him, a smile tugging at her lips. She too, looked over at her Guardian. Pride and awe filled her chest with a sudden intake of breath. Exhaling, she shrugged her shoulders and walked back to plop down beside Ell, giggling. 

Fal lay collapsed on his side. His Wufn was gone! The utter devastation of Wufn’s loss was impossible to comprehend. Greystone rubble on the floor of his cave dug into him, large enough for him to feel through his scaly flesh, and yet he barely noticed that discomfort. The pain inside was raging hot, burning and consuming him, eating a huge hole inside his chest. He could not understand it, how could Wufn possibly matter so much to him? He couldn’t allow it.

Wufn doesn’t matter. He never mattered.

Fal sought desperately for another reason for his agony.

 It must be his failure that matters. It is failure that eats me up inside, like a forest aflame. 

The Fallen dragged himself upright, sitting back on his haunches. He closed his eyes and felt the size and shape of the searing hole inside. It threatened to consume him entirely. He could not let that happen.

He filled that inner hole with ice, feeling the frigid cold enter and quench the flames, numbing that burned and shattered part of himself. He encased it all in thick, aqua blue ice, like the frozen rivers pouring over the far ends of the Mother, seen only in his dreams.

 I will never feel that kind of agony again. Never. When I succeed in my quest, I will have the power and control I need to feel whole. Nothing will hurt me like that again.

He sat, cold filling him deep inside. He was almost there, when unwelcome thoughts crept into his mind.

It is written, Guardians protect the balance of light and dark. I have blasphemed. I have sought the death of a Guardian. I have turned my back on the One. I suffer for this.

No! I choose. I choose my own path. I choose the path of power!

Then the voices, always the voices, slithering, creeping.

You are weak, powerless, an insignificant crawling worm.

The ice filled him completely. He was protected. He felt nothing now, nothing but the cold. It burned almost as the fire had done, but that was right. That he could focus upon, center himself with.

The sun finished crossing the sky and sank to its sleep below the horizon. The moon rose and walked with silvery footsteps across the stones outside his cave. Still he sat, centered in the cold, his thoughts silent now.

As the sun woke once more, sending shafts of pale, morning light into his cave, shimmering on the deep green scales on his forearms, he knew what he must do.

I need another to be my hands and my voice.

Benumbed and determined, the Fallen sank deep into the blackness of the void and sought that small light he had taken note of before.

*****

Tim walked along a wooded path. The boy’s slim legs moved easily, one long, black curl falling over his forehead. Green eyes, a startling contrast with his dusky skin, surveyed the trees he knew so well. He would often come, just as he had today, to spend time in the woods. To feel the sun on his back and sit upon his favorite rock and wait for the tight place in his belly to ease.

Sometimes the woods creatures came near, and he threw them crumbs from his morning cakes. The hoppers and the climbers didn’t fear him. Why should they? He wouldn’t hurt them.

Tim shuddered, remembering, and felt his belly tighten up. Six moons ago, in his twelfth change, his brothers had taken him hunting with them. He was so pleased and excited that he was big enough to go. He loved tracking through the woods as his brothers pointed out the signs of a large runner. Then they came upon the runner. Tim remembered the wonder he felt as he drank in the sight of its proud, antlered head and liquid, brown eyes staring at him from beneath the trees ahead. Then the terror and agony as the arrow pierced its side. His belly had tightened into a knot so intense he fell to the ground crying with pain. His brothers were disgusted with him, and called him a suckling, not big enough for the hunt. They sent him home in shame.

The next time, his brothers brought him along only at their father’s insistence. “Teach him,” he had commanded. Tim had gone reluctantly.

His delight in the woods, its sounds and smells had sidetracked him and he almost enjoyed himself, forgetting what was to come. Then the rooter they were tracking was hit. Again, he was doubled up with agony in his belly. He tried not to cry aloud, but the pain was too great. His brothers had refused to take him after that, saying that he ruined the hunt.

Tim reached his favorite rock in the woods and sat down, munching on a morning cake, tasting the oaten, nutty flavor he loved. He could feel the sun warm upon his back. His belly eased and he was able to think a little more clearly. It was getting so his belly was always in a knot when he was at the cottage. His brothers no longer treated him as one of them. He was shunted to the side, ignored, unworthy to be included in their jokes and banter. His father looked at him with irritation now, and something like disgust. He felt like a crawlie, something beneath their notice and it hurt badly.

A climber, tail down, moved along the ground toward him, hoping for a little bit of the cake Tim held in his hand. Tim looked at it absently, started to break off a piece of cake, then stopped. Bitterly he said, “You’re why I don’t belong. What kind of a man feeds a climber? Get out of here you!” He scooped up a handful of pebbles and threw them at the startled climber, who raced away into the trees. Tim slumped onto the rock, tears filling his eyes. I’ll show them, he thought.

He took out his knife, fingering the smooth blade and the sharp tip. He stood up, grasping the blade tip between thumb and forefinger. That grip felt familiar now because he had been practicing daily. He pulled his arm back behind his head, threw straight forward, holding his wrist straight, and released the knife. It flipped through the air to land in a nearby tree with a solid, satisfying thud. The tree was marked and deeply pitted from the repeated throws of his practice. Over and over he threw, his stomach easing with each satisfying impact of the knife. I’ll be big and powerful and then they’ll be sorry.

That night Tim lay on his cot, listening to his brother’s snoring and sighing around him. He drifted in that in-between state, almost asleep, but not quite. He heard someone call his name. Tim. That’s all, just his name. Then again, Tim. It startled him into full wakefulness. He knew he wasn’t hearing it with his outer ears. The voice was deep and resonant, filling his awareness and holding a promise of power. It beckoned him, and he started to think about traveling, being free of his brothers, his father, and their disdain.

The same thing happened the next night, and then every night for a seven day. By then he had laid his plans. His filled pack was hidden in the shed and he was ready to leave.

Early the next morning, instead of doing his chores out in the yard, he was striding down the road, pack on his back and feeling free.

Ell slept, the warm sun on her back easing her ever more deeply asleep. So deeply did she sleep that she was utterly unaware of the violent events transpiring around her. This was just as well, and just as it should be. The One watched over her as Ell dreamt.

Before her sat an enormous Guardian, tail gracefully curled around her foreclaws resting on what Ell thought of as the ground beneath her. The Guardian glimmered emerald, jade, and citrine as if the sun shone off every scale on her body. Yet there was no sun here but an ambient, glowing white light that infused the whole area.

The Guardian looked at Ell with golden, round pupiled eyes.  She’s so beautiful, thought Ell. Ell did not question how she knew that the Guardian was female. Nor did she question who the Guardian was. She knew. This was Gran Bryl, her dam, and her teacher.

Gran Bryl looked into Ell’s eyes and Ell felt tingles starting in her hind quarters and traveling up and down the length of her body from tail tip to muzzle. It was delicious, ecstatic and filled with love and deepest acceptance. Ell breathed it in, taking in as much as she could possibly hold. Then letting out her breath quickly, she breathed in again and took in more and more still.

May the One bless you Gran Bryl! Thought Ell.  May the One fill you as you have filled me.

Ell floated in that tingling, ecstatic state for she knew not how long, filled, wanting nothing but to be.

Ell… Gran Bryl’s thought voice was filled with love. It’s time Ell.

Ell opened eyes that she was unaware of having closed and saw that her vision had expanded. She was looking at crystalline walls surrounding Gran Bryl. The crystals throbbed with a sparkling, iridescent energy and she felt herself drawn closer, drawn in, felt herself enfolded right into the crystalline structure. It felt nurturing, reminding her of her time in the egg, held, supported and cared for. The energy of the crystals throbbed into her, filling her more full still, as if that were even possible.

Then she was pulled through the crystalline structure, out the other side, and out through thick, grey stone. She was aware of the rough texture of the black speckled grey rock even as she moved effortlessly through it. She found herself floating outside, hovering above a great, crater topped mountain. She could see that it was surrounded by foothills, looking like hatchlings gathered closely around their dam. As she turned her gaze to look further, she saw dense, green forest crowding the foothills on all sides. She felt a deep love for the mountain, and an aching longing in her chest.

Come home. Ell heard Gran Bryl’s thought voice.

Home, thought Ell. I want to go home. She woke.

*****

When Lisle entered the Guardian’s clearing, she found Gareth, looking exhausted, dark circles under his eyes. She listened with increasing horror as Gareth told her of the events of that early morning. She knew he had been watching a man, even as the man watched them. She had followed Gareth’s guidance and pretended that all was as usual, going about her normal day with the Guardian, though inside she was shivering with apprehension. Now it was over.

She knelt beside the Guardian who sat upright now, looking at Gareth alertly, carmine head ridges erect. Her arms stole about the Guardian’s neck and she leant in close. The Guardian draped her head over Lisle’s shoulder and partway down her back in embrace.

“The Guardian is safe. That flier you call Moss is quite the little warrior.”

Moss appeared as if called, hovering over the Guardian and Lisle, chittering and patting first one and then the other.

“Th…th…thanks Mm… Moss.”

Lisle looked at Gareth then, “Th….th….th…”

“Just doing what I stayed to do,” said Gareth, not waiting for her to finish.

“Wh..why?”

“Why did I stay?”

Lisle shook her head with annoyance.

“Why did that man try to hurt the Guardian?”

Lisle nodded her head, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“I don’t know, but I think we’d better move her someplace else.”

Lisle nodded again. She stood up. The Guardian stood as well. Lisle gathered together the few things she kept in the cave and started to march out of the clearing. The Guardian followed her.

“Rend and tear it Lisle, don’t you think we should make a plan?” called Gareth, sprinting after them.

Lisle and the Guardian turned to look at him, oddly identical stony looks on their faces.

“Right, no plan. Let me get my things.”

They stood and waited as he hurried to gather his pack together and sling it over his shoulder, grumbling all the while.

“No plan. No sleep. Just go, Gareth.”

He fell into step behind the Guardian. Moss flitted about them.

It was slow progress with the Guardian’s waddling walk. A half-sun later they managed to find a rock face and overhang that provided shelter, with a small clearing and water close by.

“This’ll do for now,” said Gareth. “I need to sleep some so I can watch tonight.” He unrolled his blanket. “Keep your eyes and ears open, both of you.” He looked at Lisle, small for twelve changes, brown hair curling in wisps about her face, and then at tiny Moss.  Shaking his head as if at his own thoughts, he wrapped himself up and lay down.

Lisle nodded as she sat down close beside the Guardian. Moss took position in the crook of the Guardian’s elbow, leaning against her scaled forearm. Moss crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking serious. She looked at Lisle and nodded once, then looked out at the surrounding woods, scanning with slanted, green-flecked eyes.

Lisle couldn’t help but smile. Who would have thought that a small being like Moss could be such a stout defender? Maybe it’s not about size, she thought. Maybe it has more to do with how fierce you are.

Suddenly her twelve changes and body of a human younger didn’t seem so powerless. Maybe I can be fierce. Fierce like Moss. Lisle assumed what she thought of as a fierce expression, gritting her teeth and narrowing her eyes. She tossed her brown braid back behind her shoulder, grasped her stone shot in one hand, crossed her arms in front of her chest just like Moss, and stared intently out at the woods.
​
Moss flicked a glance in her direction, looked back at the woods and smiled, a surprisingly feral expression.

As Wufn entered the tavern in Greystone he felt every step of the moon of hard travel from Guardian Mountain through Darkling Forest. His thin shoulders slumped under a much worn and dirty tunic of indeterminate color. There was the look of hard living about his grey eyes and unkempt beard. He felt tired and irritable and ready to take it out on someone. He didn’t much care who. Someone in this One-cursed hole ought to know where that hatchling is, he thought. Guardians outside Guardian Mountain were remarkable enough to garner attention.

Sure enough, almost as soon as he entered, he heard loud boasting from a squat, youngish man sitting at the bar, gesturing with a mug, liquid sloshing over the sides. The smell of old hops, sawdust and something less savory assaulted him. The man’s head was covered with a short, stubble of hair. His neck was thick and muscular, his eyes small as he squinted at the barkeep, and gestured again with his mug, splashing drink on the bar.

“I tell’s you, it was a hatchling Guardian. Looked just like a big lizard it did. I thought it’d make a right fine meal, but Gareth, he stopped me.” The man looked down into his almost empty mug. “That Gareth, he always did know the right of things. We traveled together you know. Three years it was, and we was friends afore that too.” He snuffled loudly.  “Guess we won’t be travelin’ no mores now. He’s gonna’ stay and protect that there Guardian, he is.”

The barkeep sighed, a bored look on his face. Leaning on one arm he listlessly wiped up the spills on the bar, gazing distractedly around the room as he did so. His eyes alighted upon Wufn standing in the doorway, staring fixedly at the customer at his bar, and the barkeep stood up straighter, a wary look on his face.

“Help you?” He inquired.

Ignoring the barkeep, Wufn stalked toward the customer at the bar and with an attempt at a smile looking more like a snarl, said, “Let me buy you another. I’d like to hear about that Guardian you saw.”

The man squinted up at him and held his mug out, “Barkeep, another, and one for my friend here.”

Wufn sat at the bar. He frowned at the drink placed in front of him, then picked it up and took a long pull. The barkeep moved away to the other end of the counter and busied himself using his stained apron wiping out mugs already dry.

Thumping his empty tankard down on the bar, Wufn wiped his mouth on a sleeve already much abused. “So, where was this Guardian?”

“I saw it. I did. No one round here’s believes me, but I did.”

“I believe you. Where was it?”

“That Gareth, he stopped me. I almost shot it you know. But he reaches out and shoves up my arm, and there I was shooting at the sky.”

“Where was it?” Wufn growled.

But the man was too far gone in his drink and his regret to heed the menace underlying the words.
“A good thing too. I mighta’ been eatin’ Guardian for my end-day and never known the wrong I’d done. It’d been awful.” The man’s eyes started to tear up. “But Gareth, he knew. I didn’t mean to do no wrong.” He looked pleadingly up at Wufn as he leaned over him. “I didn’t mean it.” He whimpered.

Wufn reached out and grabbed the greasy front of the man’s tunic, pulling him up so that he looked hard into the man’s tear-filled eyes. “Where?” 

Three suns later, Wufn stood silently at the edge of a small, sun-dappled clearing in the wood, hidden from view. He wasn’t happy about the task his Guardian had given him. Not happy at all. He wondered what the punishment was for such blasphemy, and not for the first time. Did the One even concern itself? He thought. He didn’t know. He did know that he had to do this for his Guardian. His Guardian needed him to do this. But Wufn was tired and he wasn’t getting any younger, and he wanted to get it over and done. Still, he was being careful. He had watched and waited for these three suns. He had a plan. A runner-skin bag now hung heavily weighted from his shoulder.

It was just past dawn. The air was cool and whispered of change. Grey clouds with pink underbellies scattered in ridges across a pale blue sky. Sunlight trickled into the clearing, flowing over the ground and through the branches of trees waving in a freshening breeze. The beauty of the morning went unnoticed by Wufn, he was too focused upon his plan.

He saw the Guardian emerge from her cave as was her daily habit since he’d been here, and make for the flat rock in the clearing that was flooded in morning sunlight. She’ll sleep now. He stared at her. She sure is beautiful, came the unwelcome thought. The Guardian lay belly down, head on forearms, wrapping her shortish tail about her abdomen, all of her gleaming, carmine on olive and rust in the sun. She closed her eyes. Almost immediately he heard the sonorous, rumbling breath of deep sleep.
He saw the flyer folk that always seemed to be around her, hovering and darting about. They didn’t concern him.

The man, Gareth, did concern him. Just lucky I’ve been able to stay hidden from him these last three suns. He’s a wary one, thought Wufn.

This morning the man was rustling about gathering what he’d need for a morning of hunting. Wufn knew he would be gone several hours. Usually the man waited for the girl to appear on the path from the cottage, but not today. Wufn studied the sky and understood why he was leaving earlier than usual. A band of dark, gray clouds sat menacingly at the horizon. Just the opportunity I’ve been waiting for, he thought.

He waited until the man’s retreating footsteps crackled through the underbrush and faded away. Wufn had no desire to make this harder for himself than was necessary.

Wufn crept around the edge of the clearing, staying well hidden. He cringed as a twig snapped underfoot. Waiting, sensing no response, he silently removed a heavy stone from the bag slung over his shoulder, abandoning the bag on the ground. Cradling the weighty sphere in one arm he noiselessly left the cover of the trees and stole closer to the Guardian.

He heard wind rustle in the shrubs behind him.  He ignored it, intent upon his objective now. She lay before him, shining head resting on thick, gleaming forearms. Sunlight dappled her short, rusty muzzle which pointed toward him. The morning light warmed the winter dried leaves scattered upon the rock about her, giving off their dusty scent. The hatchling’s eyes were closed, movement apparent under her eyelids. He could see slitted nostrils flaring and contracting with huffing, deep breaths and noted the unformed, orangey-red ridges on either side of her head. He had the sad thought that they would never grow into the proud spines that graced his own Guardian’s head.

Over and done, he thought. Forgive me little Guardian. Then, he lifted the stone in both hands, raising it high above her head.

Suddenly a hurtling, green flier darted into his face and grabbed at his eyes. Startled, Wufn dropped the stone and ducked, reaching with both hands to swipe away the pest. As he did, he heard the unmistakable sound of an arrow whizzing over his head and the thud of its impact somewhere in front of him. Realizing his danger, he ran back under the cover of the trees, dodging this way and that as he heard a large body crashing through the woods behind him. Another arrow passed by his ear, imbedding itself in the tree just to his left.

The flier, undeterred by Wufn’s flailing hands, aggressively darted at his face and head. Looking huge in his vision, Wufn saw a green-skinned,  snarling face with a halo of moss green hair,  as it came right at his eyes. Swiping wildly, running blindly Wufn never saw the up-thrust root that caught the toe of his boot. He splayed forward, arms outstretched, his head landing in a crushing blow on a large rock jutting up from the ground in front of him. Wufn lay still, over and done.

 
​© Holly Hildreth 2019