Lisle swung her legs off a ledge of grey rock where she sat at the mouth of the tunnel leading into Guardian Mountain. She stared out at aqua blue sky stretching out over the tops of pine and scrub brush dotting the mountainside. It was an inspiring view, but Lisle felt anything but inspired. She hadn’t wanted to stay out on the mountainside after meeting Tim and thinking about that Guardian. It left her with a distinctly uneasy feeling in her stomach.  Yet she wasn’t ready to face anyone else. Her emotions were still raw from Gareth’s angry rejection of her and her fears for him.

Her thoughts slipped back to that meeting on the mountainside. The boy seemed nice enough, but that dark Guardian was out there. Somewhere close enough that Tim came walking up the side of the mountain. She searched the sky before her looking for black wings against the blue, but saw nothing. She was not reassured. Could Tim be that Guardian’s Contracted? If that was true, what did it say about Tim? She hadn’t felt any malice from him, just the opposite. But how could she really know? She couldn’t, but she did know someone who might. Lisle leapt down lightly and traced her way back into the mountain to find her own Guardian.

Coming up the hallway she saw a slowly moving figure at the far end. Getting a little closer she was surprised to realize it was Gareth. He held onto the wall with one hand, pushing himself along and using a crutch under his other arm. In this way he made halting progress toward her. Closer now, he looked up at her and stopped, lifting his hand from the wall in a tentative wave. Relief at seeing him up and moving warred with her anger and hurt. Lisle took a deep breath and huffed it out, then walked up to him. She looked him in the eye. As so often before the words stuck in her throat and she said nothing.  

He held her eyes with his, then shrugged his shoulders and looked down, “I’ve been a fool Lisle, thinking only of myself. I know. I’m sorry. What matters is that you and Ell, Terris and Moss all reached Guardian Mountain.” He hesitated, then looked up at her, “How are they?”

Lisle stared at him, one side of her mouth curled in exasperation. “T…Terris and Moss are g…good. E…Ell is g…g…getting better.” She stared at him. “Y…You?”

“I’ll get better now. You’ll see.”

Lisle nodded, mouth pursed, then stepped around him and continued down the hall. She knew he was watching her go, hoping for some sign from her that she forgave him. She could feel his eyes on her back. Lisle had already forgiven him, she was so relieved for his change of heart, but she wasn’t ready to give him what he hoped for just yet. Let him stew for a bit.

She had others things to do, she needed to find Ell.

*****
Healer Deloren entered the small room that was Gareth’s, wrappings and balm held in her hands. The same as she had every day since Gareth and the others came to Guardian Mountain. Only now there was a difference. The corners of her mouth twitched upward as she thought of Gareth. He was improving rapidly. His lanky figure was a common sight now, determinedly exercising his leg, walking up and down the many tunnelways throughout Guardian Mountain. His recovery was so rapid that Deloren could only watch with amazement.

She entered his room to find him sitting up on his cot, wrapped leg extended before him while the other rested, knee bent, foot on the floor. A clutter of wood shavings covered his lap, pale white curls scattered over the cot and the floor beneath him. He looked up at her, his hands stilled. One hand held a small knife. The other, a wooden object, that he quickly hid behind his back. Deloren ignored his actions, so like a younger caught doing something he shouldn’t. Obviously, he didn’t want her to know what he was working on, although the evidence of it was all around him.

Without preamble she entered and began to unwrap his leg. She was glad to see that the wound now healed cleanly. Deloren looked up at Gareth. “Looking better. It was a near thing. That arrow penetrated the bone.” She could leave off the wrapping today. The leg no longer needed it and the air would do it good.

Gareth smiled. “You’ve tended me well, Deloren.” A mischievous gleam lit his eyes which crinkled at the corners.  “I do seem to be a target for every stray arrow that comes my way. So, I may need your tending again.”

Deloren chuckled half-heartedly, inwardly cringing. He had not been the easiest patient to work with. “For now, you’re well enough so you no longer need my help. I’ll be off to see about those that do.” Deloren turned to leave.

“Wait. I’ve made you something.”

Deloren turned back, curiosity arguing with her desire to get on to her next patient. Gareth stuck out his hand toward her. On his palm rested a miniature Guardian. At least she thought that’s what it was. It was a bit misshapen. The body was squat, with evidence of a tail curled about it, and there was a short neck with an over-sized head perched atop.

“It’s your Guardian, Loren.” Gareth tilted his head, pulled his hand back and peered at the figure seated there. “At least that’s what it’s supposed to be.” He stuck his hand out again still looking at it critically. “It’s the best I could do.” Then he looked her in the eyes. “I know I didn’t make it easy for you. I’m sorry. I am grateful for your care.”

Deloren smiled and inclined her head, accepting his offering for the peace token it was.

Then she left him to return the unused wrapping to the stores. She mused upon Gareth’s sudden recovery after so long not healing. She had seen it before. A person who should have healed and didn’t. No matter the care of her tending, nor the healing prayers of the Guardians, if a person didn’t want to heal, they sickened. A person’s will is a powerful thing, thought Deloren. I’m glad that one decided to heal.
​
Deloren arrived at the stores and replaced the still fresh wrappings. There was another whom she must tend to, a kitchen attendant laid low by a sick of the seasonal variety. She knew what was needed to ensure a rapid recovery and gathered the herbs from the cupboard. Thoughts of Gareth’s recovery stored away, as she had just stored the unused wrappings, the Healer moved off to tend the one who now needed her.
 

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.

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.”

Tim stood at the entrance to the cave which squatted at the base of Guardian Mountain, one tan and dirt encrusted hand grasping the rough, grey rock at the cave mouth. He leaned his head inward, straining his eyes to peer into the dark depths.

He knew it was here, though he didn't know what 'it' was.  

Tim was tired. It had been three anxious suns of walking due north through the frightening Darkling Forest. Yet anything was better than the torment of living with the scorn of his brothers and father, and his own growing hatred. The nights of his journey had been terrifying,  wakeful, hearing his name called over and over. All of it had brought him unerringly to this place.

While his body might be tired, his heart was thumping hard with excitement. He just knew this was what he was seeking; this was what had been calling him. 

Wind rushed past his back, carrying browned leaves fallen too early for the season, and brushing them on by. He didn’t notice. He was too intent on studying the tiny flashes of light which blinked at him from countless crystal points embedded into the walls and ceiling of the cave.

He heard a loud, snorting breath bellowing forth from some huge beast within and startled backward, his head rearing up. He saw it then, an outline of darkness, shadowing the crystal points of light, moving slowly toward him from the back of the cave. He heard the crunching sound of movement on rock, heavy and slow.

Terror vyed  for control of his body. His mind knew he should run yet his heart kept him rooted to the spot.

A deep green, scaled forearm stepped into the light. His eyes followed it downward as long, ivory talons curved into view, then another forearm moved up beside it, cruel talons clicking on rock. A tingling thrilled through Tim’s arms and legs, his body begging him to flee. Still he did not.

His mouth dropped open unheeded, full lips dry, as Tim’s dark lashed eyes followed the gleaming, scaled forearms back up to powerful shoulders, rippling with muscle. Shoulders which shone in the light as the enormous beast emerged from the dark shadows of the cave. Tim's riveted gaze picked out the sparkling details of each scale, looking as though they were made of purest, dark green emerald. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

His eyes traced further upward to the sinuous neck, reflecting the sunlight in an emerald green so dark as to look almost black, shading back and forth with a startling sapphire blue as the neck wove to and fro in the light. The effect was mesmerizing.

Tilting his head back to look further up, Tim saw powerful jaws and ridged, reptilian head duck under the rock overhang as the beast emerged slowly from the dark of the cave, it’s claws grating and crunching over the rock floor.

Run! Run! Run! Tim’s mind screamed at him even as he ignored the fear that coursed through his body.

A Guardian. It called me here. It wants me! Awe filled his chest on a gasping intake of breath.  He had never been so sure of anything in his life. Here was power, strength, and dominance, everything he wanted and more.

Tim fell to his knees bumping his forehead to the ground, almost touching the great, ivory claws. “I will serve you with my life, Great One, only give me  your power and strength,” his words fell to the earth followed by tears of fear, release and joy.

The huge jaws lowered deliberately to hover in the air just above Tim’s head. The breath blew out through enormous nostrils and Tim felt his hair parted and blown about. He didn’t dare to move. Perhaps the Guardian will take my life. He trembled involuntarily at the thought. It would be my honor to serve so, though he hoped the Guardian would have better use for him than that. He kept his head bowed to the ground, clenching his elbows tight to his sides trying to still the trembling that shook him.

It would seem that it did have a better use for him, because he felt the warm wind of breath quiet and the great head move away.
Tim lifted his own head from the ground and risked a glance upward. Large, round pupiled eyes the color of molten gold stared down at him from the bejeweled head, green ridges, dark as obsidian, standing high.

The Guardian slowly turned, long, graceful neck curving around, claws scratching over stone, and moved back into it’s cave. Tim knelt, watching spellbound.  The beautiful creature turned it’s head back once again to look at Tim, as if in invitation.

Tim, tear streaked face full of boyish wonder and pure delight, scrambled to his feet and followed.    
  

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.