Lisle reclined on the mountainside looking up into cottony clouds which covered the sky. A warm breeze, redolent with summer’s waning, wafted errant strands of hair about her face and she brushed them aside absently. She was transfixed by the clouds, imagining them to be a herd of many humped, snowy beasts with slate grey underbellies, drifting in stately progress from horizon to horizon. The image was appealing and she pointed them out to Moss who squatted like a delicate, winged water hopper upon Lisle’s bent knee. She laughed and pointed at a cloud shaped exactly like a puller beast elbowing Tim who sat beside her, long legs stretched before him as he leaned back on his hands.

Tim had joined Lisle on the mountainside several times over the past weeks, and even Moss was getting used to him.  Lisle discovered that she enjoyed his undemanding company. It provided her with a break from the intensive training she was doing with Bryllint and now Deloren. 

Feeling relaxed, Lisle tried to put the image of the cloud beasts into words so Tim and Moss could see what she was seeing. To her frustration, the words stuck in her throat and her tongue tangled in her mouth.

With a huff, she sat up irritably. Moss leapt into the air and hovered in front of Lisle's face, hands on her hips, wings buzzing loudly and chattered at her. Lisle inclined her head in apology and  hummed a single note. Then she added in a word, then more notes which became a song, and the words she wanted to say flowed out of her mouth with the song. Tim turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. Moss clapped her hands and chittered in a high, happy staccato. Lisle looked at them both, suddenly feeling shy and ducking her head.

“That was good Lisle. You can say what you want like that.”

Lisle looked up at Tim and nodded, feeling relieved that he understood her unusual solution to the problem that had plagued her for so long.

She saw his face take on an uncertain expression, eyebrows furrowing, as he looked away then and picked up a pebble from the ground beside him. He tossed it back and forth between his hands.

“Lisle, I want to tell you something.”

Tim looked so serious all of a sudden that Lisle sat up, forgetting about the animals in the clouds and looked at him. Anxiety pricked its way into her insides.

“My Guardian, Fal… he’s awake.”

Lisle drew in a sharp breath.

Tim dropped the pebble and turned pleading, pale green eyes to look at her. “I know he’s done terrible things, and…” Tim turned his gaze away from her and looked out at the horizon. He was silent for a moment. “and, me too.” He said in a whisper. Then the words poured out of him all in a rush. “He’s different now. I know he is. I am too. He loves me Lisle, I can tell. He’s not angry anymore, he just feels ashamed, and so do I, and he’s not going to hurt Ell again, I’m just sure of it. I love him so much…” His words ran down and his eyes followed, looking away from her face and down at the pebbled mountainside before him. He scuffed at the dirt with his fingers, picked up another pebble and threw it, hard. They both watched as it bounced and clicked its way down the incline. Then Lisle turned to look at Tim once again. The sunlight shone off dark curls straggling over his forehead, and he glanced at her out of the side of his eye, and quickly looked down again.

She had no idea how to respond. The dark Guardian was awake, Fal, Ell’s brother, who had almost killed Ell. The terrible image of him attacking Ell, shocking in its intensity, filled her inner vision. She felt anger and fear roiling up inside. Then she remembered the dancing blue light, bouncing along the Pathways, and shook her head back and forth. How was she to reconcile the two images?

Her thoughts took a turn then, and she remembered Bryllint saying, “There must be at least twelve Guardians to hold the balance, never less.”

Twelve Guardians, she thought. There had been ten Guardians living in Guardian Mountain. Now, Ell made number eleven. Fal is the only other Guardian that anyone has ever spoken of. Fal is the twelfth Guardian! 

As much as Lisle didn’t want it to be true, they needed Fal. She realized that even when she and Ell accomplished the Ritual of the One, they would only be the eleventh pair. Not enough for the Day of Rising. Not enough to create balance. Without Fal and Tim they would fail. Gaea would fall into the darkness of The Others. An involuntary shiver traced icy fingers up her spine as she thought of the spreading darkness she had felt on the Pathways. She couldn’t let that happen.

  “You, you can’t really forgive him… or me, can you?” Said Tim.

Lisle leapt to her feet and reached down for Tim’s hand, yanking him upward. He stood, looking at her uncertainly.

“C…C…Come on!” Lisle took off for the tunnel entrance to Guardian Mountain, pulling him along behind her. She heard a loud chittering, as Moss, not one to be left behind, caught up, wings buzzing beside Lisle’s ear.

Lisle tore through the mouth of the tunnel, holding hard to Tim’s hand and not allowing him to stop even when he shied backward at the entrance. They raced down the tunnel, finally skidding to a halt at the entrance of Guardian Cavern. Lisle dropped Tim’s hand as they both bent over, gasping for breath. Lisle was the first to recover as Moss alighted upon her shoulder. She looked up to see Gran Bryl stretched along the ridge at the side of the great cavern, yellow-green scales shining in the sunlight pouring through from the crater above. It sparkled over the walls of the cavern in thousands of flashing pinpoints of light. Lisle looked for Bryllint and was relieved to see her there, sitting at Gran Bryl’s side, her hand resting upon one huge foreleg. Her graying hair was pulled back into a knot at the nape of her neck and a welcoming smile creased her lined face. The air in the cavern wafted about them with the clean mineral scent of fresh-turned earth. The temperature was considerably cooler than outside.

Lisle heard a gasp from beside her and looked to see Tim, green eyes wide and staring, frozen like a creeper about to become a meal for some predatory creature.

She reached again for his hand. “It’s a…alright.” Lisle felt him resisting even as she walked forward so she stopped and pulled him up beside her. She looked up at him where he stood considerably taller than herself, and tried to reassure him with a smile. He looked back at her with fear-filled eyes. Then he clenched his jaw and gave a little nod as if to acquiesce to his fate. His fingers tightened convulsively on Lisle’s and they walked forward together to stand before Gran Bryl.

Tim plunked himself down beside Fal, wincing as his tail bone came into sharp contact with the hard stone of the cave floor. Hands braced on either side of his hips, he eased his position and looked at the still form of his Guardian. He saw mostly dark curves outlined against the lighter walls of the cave. “Fal?“ Tim knew he would get no reply, but still he hoped this day might be different from all the days before. He pulled his worn jacket close about a slender torso. The sleeves were short on him now, not quite reaching his wrists. Back when it belonged to his older brother, the sleeves reached down below Tim’s fingertips. That time seemed long ago, and his mind shied away from thoughts of his mocking older brother.
​
A single morning flyer sounded a strident call, carried on an errant breeze which snuck into the cave. The leaves on the trees near the cave mouth, waved and fluttered, their movement creating a shushing sound as if remonstrating the flyer and its harsh noise.

Tim felt his belly growl. He knew he should get up and attend to a meal. Still he sat beside Fal, staring at his Guardian lying curled, silent, eyes closed, long, darkly ridged tail curving about him, narrow jaw resting upon his scaled forelegs.

Just then, the sun dared a single streak of light through the mouth of the cave, shining across Fal’s shoulder and over his back and spinal ridges. Where it illuminated, Fal’s scales sparkled emerald green, shading to deepest cobalt blue. The rest of him looked black in the shadows of the cave.

Gone was the fearsome beast so many knew as the Fallen. In its place was this stunningly beautiful creature, so unmoving it might have been carved from purest crystal. Even Fal’s smell had changed, mused Tim. He inhaled the almost floral, spicy scent that exuded from Fal’s warm sides and thought how different that was from the combined odor of spice and rotted meat that accompanied Fal in the past. Tim preferred this new scent, though he’d take the other if only Fal would wake up.

Tim sighed with longing.  He watched the gradual movement of sunlight sparkling across Fal’s back and felt admiration, no, adoration, a feeling that welled up within him. He loved Fal with all his heart, though he didn’t know why. Fal had not been kind to him. Worse, Fal had convinced him to do bad things. And worst of all, Tim had no idea how to bring Fal back from wherever he had gone. The thought twisted his gut painfully.

Knowing it would not wake Fal, Tim leaned forward from where he sat, resting his forehead against Fal’s. He would never have attempted this were Fal awake, but now, what difference did it make? The contact was comforting to Tim and he allowed himself this small familiarity, leaning close and resting his hands on the dusty cave floor.

Tim closed his eyes, breathing deeply, his nostrils filling with Fal’s warm, sharp scent, and he rested. He heard the slow, whooshing of air, in and out, and felt Fal’s hot breath warming his stomach where he leaned over his Guardian’s muzzle. Tim hadn’t intended to stay long like that, but instead of a brief contact before getting up to make his meal, he fell into a deep sleep.

Tim was frightened when his eyes opened to what seemed an infinite void of blackness. Then he realized he was surrounded by points of colored light. He looked deeper and saw that pearly strands of white formed a web connecting the flickering, dancing lights. Close to him was a beautiful, dark blue pulsing light that bounced slowly up and down.

Tim knew, and had no idea how he knew, that this was his Guardian, Fal. His heart almost exploded within him at the thought, except that when he looked down, he realized that he too was just light, a sparkling aqua blue. His light pulsed, looking like a tiny, blue sun. He felt as though he might burst with joy as love flooded out of him and surrounded his Guardian with iridescent rainbow rays. Fal’s light pulse brighter and brighter still. Tim felt warmth and happiness radiate from his Guardian, as Fal’s light danced up and down before him.

Suddenly, Tim felt himself surrounded and filled with energy that pulsed with love, appreciation and gratitude such as he had never known. He was astounded to realize that Fal loved him, loved him deeply. Surely Tim’s heart would explode now. It was all he had ever wanted. Tim felt whole and complete and he wanted to stay there forever.

He felt a gentle push upon his forehead and Tim opened physical eyes on a physical world. Disappointed and awkward with it, he pushed himself up and back, away from Fal. Fal’s enormous golden eyes were open and staring right at him. But instead of the cold rebuff he might have expected, Fal looked at him softly, eyelids closed just slightly, relaxed and accepting. Tim saw love in those eyes, that tingled upward through his body, from his toes, expanding through his chest and right out the top of his head. Gradually, Tim felt replete with that love, so nourishing it filled his heart and belly too. He felt as though he was filled completely and might never need to eat again.

Then the odd thought came, as they will, and he realized that if he never ate again, he’d miss his porridge too much. This struck him as terribly funny. Maybe it was the strain of the weeks of not knowing. Maybe it was the joy of finding Fal again. Maybe it was the amazing discovery that Fal loved him. Whatever it was, he started chuckling. The joy and love he felt inside bubbled up within him and he laughed out loud. A guffawing belly laugh that carried him forward as without thought he threw his arms about Fal’s neck and laughed until he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks to drip over Fal’s neck as it curved about him in a Guardian’s hug.

He started to sob then. He couldn’t help it. Great wracking sobs consumed him. He cried for himself and the things he had done, the hatred he had carried in his heart. He cried for Fal, the pain and regret he felt within him. He cried for the pain that together they had caused others. Then he was crying for the relief of forgiveness and found love. It all poured out of him, and all the while Fal held him.

Gradually the sobs gave way to great shuddering breaths. As those finally calmed, Tim swiped at his cheeks, pushing himself back. He took in a tremulous breath and looked at Fal incredulously.

His Guardian gazed back at him, golden eyes warm, huge scaled body still, brow ridges laid back against his skull in relaxation.

“Fal.” It was all Tim could give voice to, yet that single utterance carried everything that overflowed from his heart, as his watery eyes beheld his Guardian before him.

He breathed steadily for several moments, watching Fal shift one powerful foreleg and then another, claws scraping the cave floor, levering himself up to a sitting position before Tim.

“You’re back,” said Tim in wonder. His head tilted slightly and his eyes crinkled with the smile that curved his lips. “You’re back,” and relief poured through him, the sensation bubbling and tickling through his body. The feeling of it made Tim giggle boyishly, until he remembered himself and chortled in what he thought of as a manly guffaw. Then he released all inhibition and threw himself upward at Fal, arms attempting to snug about his Guardian’s neck, but succeeding only in reaching up to his shoulders.

In the eternity of that precious moment, Fal curved his long neck into a hug about his boy’s side and back, holding on to his life line.

The morning was well underway, deep azure sky was visible through the treetops from the mouth of the cave, and bright sunlight dappled through the leaves to play along the floor of the entrance where Tim stood. One hand raked through his sleep tousled curls as he tried to restore some semblance of order there. Tim’s belly growled. He had slept later than usual. He looked behind him to see that Fal still slept, though Tim couldn’t tell if he really did. Often enough in the past he had thought Fal asleep and been startled by the Guardian suddenly roaring and heaving upward, his head twisting about, searching out Tim and freezing him with hard, golden eyes, huge toothed jaws open. Terrified, Tim would race from the cave, never quite knowing what Fal might do next. Apparently, it gave Fal pleasure to frighten him in this way. When Tim dared to creep into the cave several hours later, Fal would ignore him, acting as though nothing was amiss. Fal hadn’t played this little game since returning from the battle with the small Guardian, but Tim was still wary.

This morning, Tim moved quietly out of the cave and loped along his usual trail zig-zagging up the mountainside. It would take him up toward the gaping mouth of an enormous tunnel in the side of Guardian Mountain. This was a place that he had never dared to explore for fear of meeting Guardian’s even less tolerant than Fal. He usually gave the tunnel a wide berth.

His eyes had grown sharp in his time with Fal and he knew the plants whose roots made a palatable stew and the likeliest places to find them. The morning air was fresh with the scent of scrub juniper and forest pine, carried to him on the inevitable winds scouring the mountainside. He bent his head to his search. Scanning the rocky ground, he looked for the telltale signs of lace-like leaves and stubby, thick stems growing from sweet orange roots beneath. He walked for some time until he passed into a thicket of brush. A lilting melody wafting on the breeze arrested his attention. Curious, he moved through the brush and listened intently. High, thin notes wept even as he heard sobs beneath them, and he felt his heart respond, reaching out to the one who suffered.

He moved closer and with a start recognized the girl sitting on a rocky outcropping. He had met her only once before, when they stood on opposite sides of an attack that never should have happened. Halting abruptly, he stood there mute, just looking at her. She wore her brown hair in a single braid down her back and sat with arms holding slender, tanned knees to her chest. Sun sparkled off of the greystone beneath her, and shone from the wet tracks of tears on her cheeks.

Memories of Fal clawing and raking at the beautiful, small Guardian beneath him, raced through Tim’s mind. Feeling ashamed, he was about to turn away.

A tiny, green flyer, lifted into the air from the girl’s shoulder and buzzed right at his face, coming to a stop and hovering before his nose, wings whirring. It made a loud, chittering noise and shook minute fists at him. He took an inadvertent step back and lifted his hands defensively. He had to cross his eyes to get a good look at it. He was amazed to see that it was human in appearance. Angry, slanted eyes in a sharp-chinned green face, drilled through him. His brain searched for a memory and then he hit upon it. Flyer Folk. At any other time he would have been thrilled to meet this creature he’d only heard about in stories, but right now it was anything but friendly. It looked like it was about to attack him.

The girl lifted her head abruptly and looked at him, her song silenced. She made no effort to hide her tear-streaked cheeks and reddened eyes, but stared up at him, a look of recognition in her eyes.

“I…I  k…know you.”

Tim thought about running, surely nothing good could come of this, but something held him there. He kept his eyes on the angry flyer and scuffed the toe of his boot on the gravelly earth. “Uh-huh,” he said.

The girl leapt to her feet, brown eyes snapping. “You! Where is that… that creature who is no kind of Guardian?”  She planted her hands on her hips, elbows bent like the mantling wings of an enraged Guardian.

Tim brought his hands up palms out, as if to placate her and maybe fend them both off.

“He’s not here, and…and…I’m sorry.”

“Sorry! It ripped her to shreds! She almost died!”

The little flyer emphasized those words with a burst of chattering sound and made a lunge at his face.

He took a step back, hands up in front of his face.  “I know. I know. I’m sorry. He won’t hurt her again.” One help me, I hope he won’t, he thought.

Chancing a look away from the aggressive flyer, Tim glanced at the girl’s reddened cheeks and swollen eyes.

“Is that why you’re crying?” His eyes shifted uneasily back to the flyer whirring before him.

“What?” The girl scrubbed at her cheeks with both hands. “No!”

“Is the Guardian healed?”

“Y…yes, not that you d…did anything to h…help her.”

“I did… I…I tried to stop him.” The hovering green flyer backed off a little, still chittering but more quietly now, the tone almost questioning. Figuring it would be better to show how peaceable he was, Tim dared to lower his hands and clasp them behind his back.

The girl stared at him, her lips twisting up like she was going to cry again.

“One knows, I didn’t want that to happen.”

Expressionless now, she studied him.

He looked at her hopefully. “My name’s, Tim.”

She glared, then shrugged her shoulders, eyes rolling as she canted her head back. The flyer left him and buzzed back to the girl’s shoulder, landing gently and lifting a miniature green hand to rest against the girl’s pale-skinned neck.

Tim grunted and tucked his chin, looking away. Of course, she would hate him.

He heard her let out a sharp, huffing breath. “L…Lisle.”

His eyes darted back to her face, the corners of his mouth daring a smile. She wasn’t quite looking at him, her eyes hovering somewhere to the left of his face. Figuring this was an improvement, he decided he wouldn’t try for further conversation. He gave her an opened handed wave and started back the way he had come, his feet moving easily over the rocky ground. He felt lighter knowing the small Guardian was alright. Then a surprising thought occurred to him, maybe Lisle could be a friend. I’d like a friend. He looked back over his shoulder to see her watching him, her staunch companion staring at him intently. Not too sure about that little green flyer though. His hand lifted in acknowledgment, and unable to stop himself, his lips split into a grin. An uncomfortable gurgling resounded in his belly. Still hungry, he thought, and bent his head to the task of filling his stomach. 
 
 
 
 
 

At first Fal hid within the familiar darkness, dreading the arrival of the voices that haunted him. He waited, resting in the gloom. It felt good to rest. The terrible hunger for more, more power, more domination, more control, was absent. Like a body part cut off, he kept expecting it to be there, but there was only a frozen empty space inside where there should have been burning need. It was oddly restful.

Over time, Fal accepted that icy cave within. He felt a growing curiosity and chose to enter the void and explore. The voices were silent still, seemingly allowing him this.

He floated in blue space, surrounded on all sides by frozen, translucent perfection. He felt calm and content just to be there. Gradually, his attention was drawn by a slight movement, just visible within the blue ice that was before him. He looked deep and saw a face. It was Wufn, the man who raised and abused him. The man who died for him. Then another face, the Hunter, a man whom he never met in the flesh, but who also died because of him, even as the Hunter himself was an instrument of death. Then many other faces of those who had feared him, those who revered, obeyed and died for him. He saw his boy, Tim, cringing before him, and he saw himself, raging, mindless, obsessed. Surrounding the faces and visions in the ice were countless beasts, pullers, runners, rooters, even hoppers all watching him. He knew without knowing how he knew, that these were the creatures he had hunted, unwilling and tormented they died a death unsanctified, a death for his pleasure.

Emotions long frozen trickled through cracks that appeared in the ice all around him. He felt scalding droplets where they landed hot and painful within him.  

Now another face, the girl and the faces of her companions, wandering deep within the ice then turning to look at him, one by one. He saw terror and anger in their faces. He saw the Guardian, Ell, in all her beauty, wings stretched outward, graceful neck curved, and glorious golden eyes caressing him, knowing him; and even knowing all he was, she loved him.

It was too much, the cracks in the walls split wide open and he was drowning in a flood of shame and soul-deep regret.

The flood bore him up and out of that inner space, and he floated once again in the comforting darkness. Now, surely the voices would take him and he would be lost within that roiling greed. But no voices came, and the dark held him. He was reminded of the feeling he knew before hatching, curled within his shell, safe, warm and cared for. The memory was so strong, he almost felt that delicate protection surrounding him, could nearly see the translucent green light filtering through. He felt once again what it was like to be an unhatched Guardian of the One, the unwavering trust, the sure knowledge of his place on the Pathways and the deep understanding of his purpose. He wanted that again, with all that was within him.

Fal made his choice, he closed his inner eyes and fell into the eternal embrace of the One.

When once again he became aware of himself, he opened inner eyes to see darkness surrounding him. It was lit with dim pathways of white light, just barely perceptible. With joy, he recognized the Pathways of the One. It had been so long since he had turned his back on the One, he didn’t deserve this. Still, Fal dove deep and the Pathways grew brighter.

It was the outer world that was a shadow to him now, the only reality for Fal was here, tracing the Pathways. Here was freedom. The voices no longer haunted him. The void of the One so dark before, was now filled with light. He reveled in his liberty and wanted nothing more than to stay, a sparkling point of light moving, exploring, playing among countless other sparks.

Occasionally his mind touched upon a question, and then leapt away again as if from a sharp pain. Did he really deserve such joy? Perhaps not, most assuredly not, but he would accept this delight, allow it and seek more of it. He was a creature of the One again. He had chosen and the One welcomed him.

During the short periods of time in which Fal was aware of the shadow outer world he felt his boy there beside him. Though he never opened his eyes, he felt the devotion of that heart holding him. He wondered how it could be so. Surely, he never earned such devotion. When one night he felt the warm presence of the boy curl up next to him in sleep, he didn’t drive him away as he might have in the past, but allowed that small familiarity. Waking fully, Fal raised his head and curling his neck backward, looked at the boy, seeing his long legs tucked up beneath him, arms clutched about his thin chest. For the first time, Fal thought love to his boy.  Then, with sudden realization, Fal knew peace. Resting his head on the ground beside his boy, his Contracted, he slept.

*****
Tim had no idea how to help Fal. As far as Tim could see Fal needed nothing from him, lost as he was in his inner world. But Tim loved Fal. One only knows why, thought Tim. So, Tim did what he could, which was to watch over his Guardian.

 As the days passed, he left Fal’s cave for only short periods of time. Fal didn’t need to eat but Tim did, and he would scavenge as quickly as possible, bringing what he found back to the cave and resuming his vigil.

When night fell, Tim curled up in the corner of the cave in his usual spot, but the air flowing in from the cave mouth was chilling and Tim’s thin body shivered. The heat radiating off of the Guardian’s scaled hide was irresistible and he dared to move closer to Fal. Tim had tried this in the past and been forced away with a hard thrust of Fal’s powerful tail. But maybe now, when Fal seemed to be so unaware. Maybe just a little bit of warmth, he thought. Walking his hands and knees along the cave floor, Tim quietly crept closer, close enough to rest against Fal’s enormous side. He felt the Guardian’s heat flow into him, soothing his shivering muscles. It was a joy to allow himself such closeness with his Guardian, even for just a few stolen moments. He pillowed his head on the warm surface meaning to move away again before Fal woke. But the deep, wooshing sound of the great Guardian’s breath lulled him to sleep.

He dreamt. He was a small younger held in the warmth of his mother’s arms. The sound of her breathing comforted him as he rested his head against her softly lifting chest. He felt love surround and fill him with a glorious, rose-hued light, and he slept more deeply, more restfully than he had for a very long time.

​Fal felt as though his chest was cracking open like the skull of the runner from his meal that morning, which he so easily crushed in his jaws. His chest hurt, red hot pain radiating outward from the center, burning lightning into his shoulders, up into his throat and all the way down to his gut. His throat was parched. He badly needed water to drink, or blood. At the thought of blood, sudden, flooding nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He lost his balance and veered off, his wings tipping sideways in the air.
 
He felt tipsy like a morning flier drunk on old berries. It was all he could do to stay in the air, even as his wings flapped desperately. He couldn’t find his center. The balance so natural to him in flight was gone. His tail turned frantic circles in a futile effort to regain the equilibrium lost to him.
 
His nostrils were filled with the spicy, floral scent of her, mixed with the coppery tang of the smaller Guardian's blood. It was an enticing combination. She was so beautiful, so delicate. Even in his rage he had seen that. Nausea flooded over him at the thought, and he lurched off in the wrong direction, feeling as though he might at any moment empty the contents of his stomach.  
 
An enormous tree loomed up before him and he just barely negotiated his way around the shaggy, grey trunk by tilting his wings wildly and careening off in another direction entirely. He had to backtrack then, circling around to head back toward his cave.
 
His cave was all he wanted now, dark, comforting and safe. Whatever was happening to him he could deal with there, if only he could get back. He flapped his wings, lost his balance and crashed hard into the ground. His neck crumpled underneath, as his body rolled over onto his back and he lay there, stunned.
 
Slewing himself over onto his stomach, he promptly retched up his recent meal in an undignified series of undulating neck movements and stomach heavings. Then he pushed himself up onto his legs and began the laborious process of shuffling his way back to his cave, even as another wave of crippling pain shot through his chest.
 
*****
 
Tim ran, tears streaming down his cheeks. All he could see was that small, exquisite Guardian, ripped and bleeding. Sobs tore from his throat, wheezing through his chest. Still he ran. His body guiding him, knowing the way, his heart and mind still on the mountainside grieving over the dying Guardian. It was all his fault. He never should have hired the Hunter. He should have warned that Guardian to stay far away. He never should have let it come near the Fallen. And what about the Fallen? He had seen the way Fal flew away, haphazardly, dangerously unbalanced, making for his cave. Was Fal injured? He might not be able to do anything for that small Guardian… at this thought, Tim sobbed harder, but he could and would help Fal. His legs moved faster, leaping over stones, roots and branches in his way, carrying him back around the base of Guardian Mountain, toward Fal’s cave.
 
He careened around the side of the cave, one hand catching hold of the rough stone edge, and all but fell into the opening. The cave was dark and silent. Regaining his balance, he took several steps in, allowing his eyes to adjust. There was no looming, deeper shadow within. No sound of rocks grating beneath huge claws. No bellows-like breath. Fal was not there. Where could he be?
 
Tim went back outside and stood looking frantically in one direction then another. He heard a crashing from the woods off to his right, as of a great creature moving unsteadily through the trees. Fal! Tim followed the sounds of cracking branches and pushed his way through a patch of scrub growth. There he found Fal. The great Guardian labored, one step at a time, breasting through the undergrowth. His tail dragged the ground, wings dangled unevenly off the sides of his back, his head hung down, jaws agape and tongue lolling. His breath moving in and out in gasping heaves.
 
“Fal!” Tim rushed to his side, “are you alright?”
 
Golden eyes rolled upward at Tim, then Fal took in a shuddering breath and collapsed against him, bearing both of them to the ground.
 
*****
 
“Fal! Get up Fal!”
 
Fal felt something pushing at him, something else being pulled from underneath him. He opened his eyes. Tim was beside him, no, mostly under him.
 
Unwilling to squash the boy just yet, Fal dragged himself into a sitting position. He was aware that his wings and tail sprawled inelegantly and he didn’t care. It was enough that he was upright.
 
“Fal, are you hurt?” Tim touched his side, running gentle hands over his back, wings and legs, looking for signs of injury. The tender hands felt good. Fal leaned into them. Not because he needed such attentions, but because the boy needed to feel useful.
 
“Why did you do it Fal?” The words whimpered out of the boy as if unwilling, and unwilling Fal’s mind was pulled back to the scene on the mountainside.
 
The question, Fal thought, was not why I did it, but why did I stop? Nausea threatened to consume him and he felt retching waves move up his neck. Dizziness caused his balance to waver, and he spread his forelegs wide to stabilize himself.
 
Such thoughts were better left alone.
 
Fal cast an eye over the boy. He saw a bedraggled and gangly younger, part-man, part-boy, all human. Dirt streaked his face in tracks down his cheeks beneath red-rimmed eyes. Curly, black hair stuck out in clumps, stuck here and there with twigs and bits of leaves. His tunic was rumpled and hung askew on his thin frame.
 
Fal felt his chest expand as if something inside filled a space suddenly grown too small. It hurt, the pressure building. On a gasping intake of breath, he realized he felt something for this boy, his boy. Unwilling to pursue that or any thought further, Fal turned his head away, lunged to his feet, and made his way to the beckoning womb of his cave, Tim trailing behind.

Ell threw up her head, watching the enormous Guardian diving at her. Her jaws opened defensively, then it slammed into her. She felt the thudding impact as a tremendous weight bore her body to the ground. Huge claws stabbed and ripped agonizingly into her sides, grabbing at her neck and pinning her head to the stony earth.

She looked upward into a gaping, toothed maw, nostrils filling with the rotted flesh scent of heated breath as it came at her. Her mind filled with the horrific vision of this enormous Guardian crushing her skull in it’s jaws, like the shell of an egg.

“Git offa her you, you…!”

Terris never finished his demand as he leapt at her attacker. Out of the corner of her eye, Ell saw Terris fly through the air, thrown wide by an enormous, whipping tail. She felt a stab of fear for him, knowing Terris had already been injured even as he leapt upon her foe.

Ell prayed. One, protect these precious humans who have given so much to protect me.

She felt her heart expand and was suddenly aware of all that took place from a vantage point above, observing.

She knew this Guardian. This was Fal, the dark light.

She felt the loving presence of the One fill her to overflowing. It tingled throughout her body, easing the terrible weight crushing her into the ground, and the burning pain of the claws that ripped at her.

Her fear melted away and she was oddly curious to see what would happen next.

She knew with certainty that it was all perfect, whatever happened, and she was filled with a deep sense of peace. Then sadness welled up in her heart as she felt the agony, fear and rage which consumed Fal and her heart reached out to him.

“Elllll...!” Lisle screamed high and long, from the mountain path above. Ell saw Lisle hurtle recklessly down the mountainside, slipping sideways on the graveled surface, face contorted with anger. She charged at the Fallen, beating at him with her fists.

Another arrived at that same moment, the boy Ell had seen from the air, the one she recognized as Tim. Long legs and arms pumping furiously, he raced to Fal, pulling at him, trying to get him off of her back.

She was grateful for their efforts, even knowing they were futile.

The thought came to her, I am of the One and of the One I remain. She knew this to be her deepest truth, despite what was happening to her physical body.

Then, as her body struggled for breath beneath that terrible weight, she mind-spoke, Fal, we are ONE.

The light of the One flooded outward through the back of her heart. She felt the warm energy and an intense tingling sensation which dampened the burning pain in her back and neck from where his claws tore through her scaled hide. She felt love, huge and encompassing, engulfing her and the one who rent and tore at her.

Distantly, she felt the pain intensify in her back as his claws clenched spasmodically, powerfully, and then suddenly released.

With a shrieking roar the Fallen lifted into the air and flapped away in the direction from which he had come. She turned her head to watch him and saw that his movements were awkward. Long, dark tail wheeling, trying for balance, he pitched drunkenly in the air with none of the accustomed grace of a Guardian in flight.

Ell heaved desperate breath into her lungs, and her consciousness fell back into her body as its arching defensiveness collapsed. She felt the intense burning pain of her wounds return and groaned. A sound that vibrated from her gut and all along her neck, exacerbating the agony, and which she quickly cut short.

Lisle and Tim stood on either side of her, staring at her.

She heard the boy whisper, “I’m so sorry.” Then his feet pounded off in the direction the Fallen had taken. She didn’t lift her head to watch him go.

“Ell, you’re bl…bleeding!” She felt Lisle’s gentle hands on her back, and heard her catching intake of breath. “Oh, Ell.” Lisle quickly removed her over-tunic. She tried without success to rip it in pieces as she started to sob. Then she gave up and used the whole tunic to mop at Ell’s back and neck. 

“One bless you, Ell, yer a bit tore up,” said Terris through gritted teeth. He limped over to her, pressing his hand hard against his side. 

“There now, Younger, Ell ‘ll be alright.” Terris sounded out of breath as he moved over beside her and Ell felt another hand upon her back. “It looks a mess, but nothin’ as won’t heal up.” He paused to drag in another breath, still pressing his hand against his side. “You keep doin’ what you’re doin.’ It’ll stop the bleedin.’” Lisle snuffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve, and reached to mop Ell’s neck where it dripped crimson. Terris sank down on the ground beside Ell, breathing hard. Then his eyes rolled back, his head canted to the side, and he slowly toppled over.

Sweat pouring into his eyes, Terris heaved himself up over the rock ledge, jagged edges biting into his fingers. His palms stung, reddened with scrapes from the climb. Moss waited there at the top for him, wings whirring, her hands signaling frantically. He couldn’t figure out what she was trying to telling him. Then, she turned and pointed out toward the other end of the ledge. There he saw the man who had been hunting them, lying down, his back to them, staring intently over the edge.

Crouching, Terris gathered himself together, his terror of what he was about to do keeping his movements absolutely silent. Looking down, he carefully pulled his knife from his belt, and tested the edge against a dirty fingertip. Taking a deep breath to fortify himself, he looked up at Moss and signaled her to wait.

Jiggling up and down, eyes gleaming and teeth bared, Moss was unable to contain herself. A ferocious, miniature scream ripped from her throat and she arrowed straight for their adversary.

Terris stood up, horrified, then charged forward with his own scream of defiance. The man rose with agile grace, and turned to face them in fighting stance, knife drawn.

Terris skidded to a stop, his battle cry tapering off into something more like a whine. What am I doing? Thoughts clattered about in his head. This man has twice my reach and look at those eyes. A shiver ran up Terris’s spine. What am I going to do?

Moss leapt at the man’s face and landed to do battle with his nose, grabbing and leaning in to bite.

The man, looked cross-eyed for a moment as he focused upon his tiny adversary. He took a step backward and slapped her to the ground. With a squeak of pain, she landed hard, one wing bent at an impossible angle.

Terris looked at Moss’s unmoving figure and gave up questioning himself. Angry and dripping sweat, he circled, looking for a way to come at the man. His adversary stood motionless, eyebrows arched, a look of invitation in his eyes.

It was then that Terris knew what he had to do. A calm resolve filled him. He would do this to save his friends. He dropped his knife and stood up, hands out.

Why the little creeper. He’s giving up without even a fight. The Hunter stepped forward to grab the small man just as he lunged into him. Powerful shoulders hit the Hunter in his midsection and knocked him backward. Muscular arms locked around him, travel-strengthened legs thrust the Hunter back, back, and further back into… nothing.

The Hunter’s thoughts were calm, precise. This creeper has teeth. His body flailed for survival, arms pinwheeling through the air, then grabbing onto this small man he’d thought no match for him. As both men went over the edge, the Hunter thought with an odd sort of relief, finished, the hunt is over. His lips curved upward into a smile.
*****

​Tim ran, strong, young legs pumping hard. He had to get to the Hunter and stop him. Surely, because he had been the one to hire him, he could stop him.

He didn’t understand how Fal could want to harm this beautiful creature of the One. It was so wrong. His legs moved faster still as his heart filled with fear for the small Guardian. She loved him. He had seen it in her eyes in that one glance. She knew him. He was certain. He had to save her!

With the agility of youth, he leapt over a fallen log and kept running, his thoughts racing alongside him. In all those towns he traveled through on his search for the Hunter, it had felt so good to see the respect in men’s eyes as soon as he said he spoke for the Fallen. He had come to look for it, even crave it. It was a feeling like none other in his young life. He was even able to ignore the small voice in his mind that told him what he did was very wrong.

Now that small voice was screaming at him, and he understood that what he thought was respect was only fear. I never wanted that. Now he knew that nothing was more important than saving the small, loving Guardian.

Running hard, Tim heard a faint roaring coming from the direction of Fal’s cave. He slowed. Fal is so angry. He could feel it clawing at his stomach. His breath came in great gulps as his feet found roots sticking up from the ground and he stumbled to his knees. The roaring grew louder and then louder still, as a great shadow passed overhead, tracing along the brown earth before his stunned eyes. One forbid! He thought. Feeling Fal's rage flood through his gut and send jolting currents down his arms and legs, he pushed himself up with his hands, leaping to his feet. Desperately he ran, moving ever faster. He had to get there in time.

Tim sat in his favorite, sunny spot on the moss-covered ledge of grey rock which overhung Fal’s cave. For a time, he was mesmerized by the tiny flashes of crystalline white which sparkled in the rock beside him. Then, he leaned back into the spongey mat and rested on his elbows, lean, brown legs crossed at the ankles in front of him. The sun trickled down through the leaves of the scrubby trees surrounding the cave, a warm blanket of light flowing over the front of his body.
​
It felt so good to relax, at least for this moment. Fal had been increasingly edgy and irritable, pacing about the cave, whip-like tail lashing back and forth. When he got like that Tim had to watch out for himself. Fal was not careful about where his tail connected, and Tim had more than once been thrown against the wall. Better to sit out here in the sun and allow the Fallen to work through his temper.

Tim tilted his head back, breathing deeply of the sun-warmed air. He brushed a black curl out of his eyes and gazed idly at the wispy clouds drifting in the sky over the mountainside. Then his attention was caught by movement. He picked out a dark flier against the cloud’s fluffy white. Another Guardian! It had to be. No other flier would be so large at this distance.

It was only the second Guardian Tim had ever seen. Even though he now lived here in the base of Guardian Mountain, the only Guardian he ever saw was Fal. Beautiful as his Guardian was, Tim was thrilled to see another.

Over the past weeks he had seen Fal flying in the air, though it was an unusual occurrence. This one looked smaller than his Guardian. He strained his eyes to see it as it drifted closer, riding the wind with motionless wings extended. Now he could see that it was a rusty green, lighter than Fal’s deep emerald. As he stared, he saw flashes of ruby red along the ridges of a long, graceful neck and tail. This one was as stunningly beautiful as the Fallen, though lighter in color. Just then, it turned its head and looked right at him. He felt that glance move like a shock through his body and burst into his heart. Tim was astonished to feel tears trickling down his cheeks. Then the Guardian dipped down and disappeared behind the trees.

He was stricken at losing sight of it. So, he watched, his heart pounding, feeling desperate to see it again. He searched the mountainside above Fal’s cave, hungry green eyes traveling up to the summit and back, looking for any sign of movement.

One corner of his mind noted that all was still from inside the cave. Perhaps his Guardian was sitting now, lost in his inner world. Thank the One, thought Tim.

He continued to scan the mountainside and the sky above. Finally, he caught sight of a large figure which he knew must be the other Guardian. It was at the head of a line of smaller, human-shaped figures, moving up the side of the mountain. He stared avidly, drinking in the sight of the small Guardian.

A short time later he saw a fourth figure moving fast at an angle behind the three, and climbing up above them. The others didn’t seem to be aware of their pursuer, but it looked as though he was getting into position to attack them.
The Hunter, realized Tim, horrified.

Without conscious thought, Tim was off the ledge and racing up the side of the mountain. He had to stop him.
*****

“Gareth is hit!” Yelled Terris, turning to aid his friend. The path was narrow. On one side was a sheer drop off. On the other a rock wall and an overhang. Gareth lay under the overhang, an arrow imbedded in his thigh.

Moss, wings clattering with anxiety, landed beside Gareth, and watched as he held his leg, eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted against the pain.

“Bloody claws,” said Gareth, “not again.” He looked up at Terris, face pale, “You’ve gotta keep going, Terris.” He moved his leg experimentally and grimaced. “I’ll catch you up. Guard them Terris! You too, Moss. Go!”

Agonized, Terris looked at his friend and clenched his jaw against whatever he might have said, knowing Gareth was right. Then he extended his hand to Moss and turned to catch Lisle as she charged back down the rock-strewn path toward them. Ell, golden eyes focused upon Gareth, trotted close behind, sending pebbles rattling down the hillside in her wake.

“We gotta get you n’ Ell up there. Gareth’ll be along. Move now," said Terris, holding Lisle's arm with one hand, as she strained toward Gareth.

Terris reached his other hand up to offer Moss his shoulder, but she took to the air, hovering above them. He then turned Lisle around by her shoulders and made a waving motion for Ell to turn as well. He gently and firmly pushed Lisle ahead of him up the path, as Ell ponderously negotiated the tight turn and moved into place to lead the way once again.

Terris scanned the rocks above them for the shooter, even as Lisle stumbled on the path, her head turned, looking back over her shoulder toward the overhang. He caught her and they climbed steadily. There was no sign of their assailant. The sun beating down was hot, the unmoving air getting thin and hard to breathe. They didn't dare stop to rest.

The path continued, narrow and treacherous with a sheer drop off down the side to their right. Terris’s eyes blurred with strain as he scanned the rocks ahead of them. Perspiration dripped down his face and into his panting mouth, tasting salty and rank.

A slight movement above and in front of them caught his attention. He saw a stealthy figure duck down behind a boulder just behind another overhang of rock. They would never be able to pass that overhang safely. Terris had to do something, but what? I’m no bowman, no fighter. All I got's a cooking knife.  

Slowing his pace, Terris called to mind the only fighting he had ever done, wrestling matches with his brothers when he was a younger. He had spent many of his early days pinned to the ground by one enormous brother or another. The only way he ever had a chance was to take one by surprise. 

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do.

Terris tapped Lisle’s shoulder. Moss whirred down to hover beside him. As Lisle turned to him, he said softly, “You keep comin’ along slow with Ell.” He slipped his pack off and handed it to Lisle.  “I’m gonna climb up and git behind that bowman, and fer One’s sake, stay behind Ell and keep yer head down.”

Lisle nodded assent with a forehead wrinkled with anxiety.  Taking the pack, she hurried up beside Ell, and pulled back on her wing. Ell slowed her pace, as Terris began to scale the wall of rock bordering the narrow path they trod, his lean muscles straining with effort. Moss zipped up beside him, shining wings a blur, landing on the rocks above, alert and watchful.

Several days passed and Gareth’s condition improved rapidly. Soon, he was sitting up, and able to lean carefully against the grayed trunk of a tree whose branches provided a canopy for their campsite hidden within Darkling Forest.  A few more days saw him standing and moving about tentatively.

Finally, he was well enough to travel.
​
The night before they were to leave, Gareth lay,  his head resting on a bedroll and hands clasped over his stomach. Lisle watched Gareth as he scanned the woods with haunted eyes. She sat with him beside their neat fire, holding slender hands over the coals. Despite it being full summer, the evening air was damp and chilly. Moss sat, watchful, upon Lisle’s shoulder, running tiny fingers through the verdant tangles of hair haloing her small head.

Ell lay curled, tail tip over muzzle, eyes open, reflecting the small flames of the campfire. Only Terris seemed relaxed,  fiddling about in his pack, pulling out various small bags of herbs and considering each one. Wagging his head in the negative, he’d stuff the small bag back into his pack and reach in for another one.

Haltingly, Lisle told Gareth of all that had happened after he was shot. She told him how Terris had saved the Guardian.

Terris looked up at them. He squared his shoulders. “I didn’t do nothin’ you wouldna’ done if you coulda’ Gareth.” Then he looked down quickly and fumbled with the bag he was holding.

Gareth carefully pushed himself to a sitting position. His lips twitched but he nodded solemnly to Terris.

Lisle continued on, telling Gareth how Moss had chased away Gareth’s startled assailant, quite possibly saving Gareth’s life. At this, Moss stood up on Lisle’s shoulder and puffed up her chest, wings lifting. She shook her fist at their remembered foe and loosed a string of staccato, clattering syllables.

Finally, Lisle told him how the Guardian sat with him, not eating, not moving for days, as Lisle cared for him the best she knew how. “W…which was n…not v…very g..good,” she said, looking down at hands now twisting in her lap.

“It was good enough. My gratitude to all of you,” Gareth looked at each one in turn as he said this. Then, eyes and head tilting up and to the side, he remembered, “I heard singing off and on, thought it was my Marn.” He turned to look at Lisle. “Was it you?”

“It e…eased y…you. I…I sang e…even when you w…went into th…that s…sleep. I d..didn’t k…know what else to…to d…do.”

Gareth shifted to look at her directly, grimacing slightly as his newly healed wound pulled. His eyes lighted,  “I had a dream.”

Gareth told Lisle of the lake and meeting Ell and the choice she had given him.

A pot crashed, jolting Gareth and causing Lisle to start. Together, they looked over to see Terris trying to regain his balance as he leapt over the offending pot now lying on its side on the hard-packed earth and stumbled to his knees. He looked up at them with an embarrassed grin.

Gareth pushed himself to his feet. Looking down at Terris he stepped over and offered him a hand up. Terris looked at the proffered hand with eyes wide, but accepted it and got to his feet. “Ta,” said Terris as he brushed off the legs of his trews, and set about righting the pot to make breakfast.

The next morning, they packed up and set off. Gareth walked up front, occasionally moving off into the woods, then returning to say all was clear. They didn’t travel far that day. Nor could they travel far for many days as Gareth gradually gained his strength back. Lisle took to feigning exhaustion at times to get Gareth to rest, and Terris soon caught on and contributed his own weary complaints. Gareth lost patience with them a few times, refusing to stop.

Unusually, several times each day Ell dropped down from where she flew above the sheltering canopy of the forest, back winging to come to land before them, dried leaves and dust flying up into the air about her. She would settle herself for a rest and look over at them calmly as if this was their usual routine. Always, this was just as Gareth felt exhaustion setting in, despite the desire to push himself. The companions soon learned that she would travel no further until they had all rested. 

That afternoon they settled by a brook. It was a comfortable place with the sound of the running water nearby. It was an hour or two before dark and they sat around a crackling fire, replete from a supper of ground flier, which Ell had provided, and Terris had seasoned with just the right herbs and a touch of salt.

Terris fiddled with the handle of a pot that needed mending. Then he looked up at Gareth. “It’s a strange thing I’ve jus’ remembered. That man what attacked the Guardian, he yelled, ‘For the Fallen!’ Jus’ like that. That man was terrifyin’, he was. He wanted to die.”

Gareth looked up sharply, “The Fallen? I remember something of that.” Gareth searched his memory for stories he had heard back when he was traveling with Lur. “There was a group who worshipped one called The Fallen. Anyone who serves the One is their enemy. Those that attacked us, they were after Ell. Makes sense her being a Guardian and of the One.”

Terris groaned. “Rend and tear it,” he said, shaking his head. He put the pot down and took out his knife and whetting stone, and began scraping the blade carefully against the stone. ”We’ll be ready for ‘em if they comes back.”

Gareth looked at him, eyebrows raised, his lips tiling upward. He recognized his own cuss words coming from Terris’s mouth, but said nothing. He was feeling a growing respect for the small man before him; glad now that Terris was with them.

“Yes,” said Gareth, “we will.”

Tim trudged into yet another village. He had traveled from town to village and further; so far, he no longer cared to know the name of each place. Always searching, never finding the man he sought.

All that wandering in strange places combined with something deeper and darker within him. It hardened him, firming up the boyish contours of his face into something a miscreant, bent on mischief or worse, would think twice about messing with. His odd, light green eyes beneath dark, glowering brows, and his long blade kept most trouble at a distance.  Knife throwing ability, honed by the pain of rejection, now protected him in his journeying. It took only one well-placed hit to warn off trouble makers. He never actually had to hurt anyone, but they didn’t know that. 

Tim entered the dingy room of the only tavern in this particular village. The much abused, wood floor creaked beneath his feet. It was early yet and the place was empty of customers. One, grimy window and a meager fire contributed little to the poor illumination. The air reeked of stale, spilt ale.

Time approached a stout, aproned man with a proprietary look about him, sweeping the floor with hard strokes. “I’m looking for the man called, ‘The Hunter.’

The man, stilled and leaned on his broom, squinting up at Tim. “I mighta’ seen him and then I mighta’ not.”

Tim tucked his thumbs into his belt and drummed his fingertips impatiently. “I am the Voice of The Fallen.”

The tavern keeper gasped and dropped his broom. He took a step away from Tim, and then another. “The, the… Fallen?” He made a warding gesture with his thumb and forefinger crossed and pressed against his forehead.

Tim had seen the gesture in each town he entered. It no longer concerned him.

“The Hunter, he, he, he…” The man paused to collect himself, looking down at the floor, suddenly submissive. “The Hunter, he comes in here reglar.”

Watching the man, Tim slowly pulled a coin from the pouch at his belt and flipped it in his fingers. “Tell me of him.”
The tavern keeper glanced at the coin and took a step closer. He flicked a look back over one shoulder and then the other. Leaning in toward Tim, he said quietly, “The Hunter hunts and tracks bettern' most men breathe.”

Tim listened, flipping the coin.

“He hunts for meat and fur, trades it in town here. But that’s not why they calls him the Hunter." The tavern keeper leaned closer to Tim’s ear and whispered, “He likes to hunt men. 'More interestin,’ he calls it.” He paused, head up and looking about himself, his hands wringing the yellowed apron he wore into a twist.

Tim continued flipping the coin.

The tavern keeper licked his lips. “He don’t come back without what he’s huntin’ for. He don’t much care what shape they come back in and neither should you if you hire him."

Tim flipped the coin at the man and dropping his apron, the tavern keeper caught it deftly with one hand, and tucked it quickly into a pocket beneath his apron.

“Where can I find him?”

“Most times he eats here when he’s not huntin’. You’ll find him if you waits long enough.” He bent to pick up his fallen broom and continued sweeping.

Tim waited several days. He slept by the hearth at night, and kept watch from a table by day. He intentionally chose a dark, corner table where he might not be observed from the door and ordered just enough to keep the tavern keeper satisfied.

On the third day a tall figure moved across the threshold of the doorway, momentarily blocking the light from entering the room. Tim looked at the owner of the tavern and the man nodded slightly at him, then he glanced casually over at the Hunter. It was difficult to make our facial features in the gloom, but the Hunter moved gracefully, like the animal he was named for. A fur-lined hide hat covered his head. A long bow was slung over his shoulder, a quiver of arrows at one hip. At the other hip he wore a long and deadly looking hunting knife in a worn, leather scabbard. Hide boots covered his feet and laced about his calves. Tim watched as he stalked across the floor and lowered himself to sit at a table facing the door, stretching out his long legs.
​
 “Ale,” the Hunter said, his voice low and husky.

“Yes, Sirrah. Right away.”

The tavern keeper busied himself filling a glass and placed it before the Hunter; nervously wiping up a non-existent spill on the table before scuttling away.

The Hunter removed his heavy hat, dark with stains, and placed it on the table beside him. Black strands of hair hung lankly about his lean, sharp-boned face. The rest of it was tied at the back of his neck with a leather thong. He drank deeply of the ale in silence.

Tim stood, holding a tankard and moved to stand beside the hearth on the other side of the room. He turned sideways to the Hunter, leaning his arm on the mantel, taking a sip now and then. He studied the man, careful not to attract his attention.  

The tavern filled up. It was a popular place being the only one in the village. The Hunter finished his meal and pushed his plate from him, reaching for his second glass of ale.

Two, large, rough-hewn men, entered the tavern. They hefted traveling packs over their shoulders and looked about themselves appraisingly, as if unfamiliar with the tavern. The tables were all occupied, each with several men, drinking and eating. All except for the table where the Hunter sat, alone.

The two men approached his table. “Mind if we sits here?” Spoke one.

The Hunter didn’t look up from his ale. “I mind,” a rough whisper.

The second man, placed his hands on the table and leaned into the Hunter. “Look you, we needs a place to sit. The tables is all full.” 

The tavern keeper stood, slack-jawed, eyes wide and staring. Then he shut his mouth with a snap and ducked behind the bar.

With no change of expression, the Hunter set his drink on the table, grabbed one of the hands on the table before him with his own, stood and yanked hard, spinning the hapless stranger about. The Hunter’s other hand rapidly unsheathed his long-bladed knife and held it to the man’s throat. A few deep red droplets welled up from where the edge of the knife pressed against skin. The man stood paralyzed in the Hunter’s grasp, eyes wide with terror. His companion backed up a step and reached hesitantly toward his own blade.

“This table’s taken,” the Hunter said quietly into his captive’s ear. Removing the knife, he pushed the man away, ignoring the companion. Wiping the edge of his blade on his pant leg, the Hunter sat back down and picked up his drink. The man stood staring at him, hand at his throat. His companion grabbed at his friend’s shoulder, eyeing the Hunter warily, and dragged him away.

Having seen enough, Tim put his tankard down on the mantel and moved quietly to stand in front of the Hunter.
The Hunter eyed him, hard gray eyes narrowing a warning. Tim suppressed the involuntary shudder that ran up his spine and said, “The Fallen has a job for you.”

The Hunter leaned back, tilted his head to the side staring up at Tim. He said nothing, considering the boy-man before him. He took a long swig of his ale, then nodded his head as if to himself. He nudged a chair toward Tim with his foot and rasped, “I’m listening.”