Guardians by Design - Land

Insubordination

Hours Ago

Residing in his favorite resting place, Dahj contemplated the complexity of the ecosystem before him. He enjoyed killing time by marveling at the vertical ramp that acted as a spine for the massive tree. Witnessing such an array of animals working together for a common goal was something he never thought he would experience in his lifetime.

His gaze lingered on the streaked soot stains that lined the highest point of the trunk’s inner walls, just below the crown. It seemed numerous cleaning attempts were futile at such heights, and the builders had given up on removing the historic blemish. The scar piqued Dahj’s interest. Perhaps it was an unattended heating source, or mismanaged construction resource that had left a permanent reminder of a project gone awry.

Brenloru grabbed Dahj’s arm, breaking him from his thoughts.

“I need you to come look at something,” he said sternly, gesturing towards a nearby hallway.

Dahj obliged and followed. “Another Guardian?”

“I wish,” Brenloru replied, turning towards the wooden tunnel with haste.

***

After passing the main dining room on their right, the ceiling of the wood hallway leading forward was barely tall enough for Dahj and Brenloru to stand upright. It quickly narrowed, and darkened. A section of the Homestead dedicated to smaller mammals, the route had never needed to accommodate creatures as large as a bison or moose. Cold and dark, it had a deeply musty smell from lack of airflow. The wooden walls of the passage transferred to rock upon leaving the tree and entering the stone, underground living quarters of the mountainside.

Dahj stumbled on rocks he could barely see. Brenloru had been in such a hurry that their eyes hadn’t had time to adjust to those of a nocturnal animal. The under-developed rock tunnel continued to narrow as the Guardians passed small rooms dedicated to families of rodents. The residencies carved into the side of the stone tunnel alternated on both the right and the left side, slightly staggered as to not be directly facing the home opposite. Each tiny cave-like dwelling was marked with a number and paw print to represent the animal tenant. #17, Squirrel. #9, Mouse. #3, Vole, etc.

Multiple generations of herbivores huddled tightly in their nooks with barely enough room to breathe. They were provided a thin bed of straw to lay on, and a single shelf at the back of their rooms for food storage. Despite having no amenities or space for privacy, the animals did not seem to be suffering from claustrophobia or cabin fever. They were grateful to have protection from predators and the harsh elements during the harshest season of the year.

This wing of the homestead seemed to be an afterthought – or perhaps constructed with haste to shelter an unexpectedly high influx of guests in a short period of time. Every day more creatures would seek refuge within the cedar tree, either off a tip from a friend or pure luck. However, their motive was the same; escape the predators and stay warm for the winter. The Homestead always experienced an increase in population during the colder seasons, before most residents typically moved out in the spring with the desire for more space. Their cost to stay was simple: help provide for the Homestead. This could include working on farming plots, becoming foragers, or assisting in construction or remodeling.

Dahj and Brenloru approached the end of the residential tunnel. The smell of stale blood was in the air. Surprisingly, the last six houses were unoccupied – once sheltering tenants that had recently vacated in a hurry. Food and bedding had been abandoned, along with various personal effects.

Dahj felt the heel of his foot stick to the cool, stone floor. Groaning loudly, he arched his foot now covered in cold blood and dirt to pull it from the slick ground. “What is that!” he cried in disgust.

“The reason you’re here,” Brenloru replied. His gaze followed a trail of smeared blood from Dahj’s foot to the end of the dark cul-de-sac.

Footprints that dragged at the heels littered the dusty hallway. Small splatters of blood were visible on the walls surrounding them.

“There was a fight.” Squatting, Dahj touched the sloppy footprints and retrieved a tuft of grey and black fur from the ground. “The footprints seem to be of a – ”

“Badger,” Brenloru said, nodding towards the end of the tunnel.

A lifeless badger laid in the dark at the end of the smeared blood trail.

“A murder… in the Homestead?” Dahj said under his breath, inspecting the eviscerated victim from a distance. “How often does this happen?”

“As far as I know, this would be the first. We need to check access points. It may have been a breach from a predator.”

“I don’t see any paw prints that represent a carnivore, though, and this area is barely trafficked.” Dahj turned his focus back down the hallway behind them.

“This hall is a recent development within the Homestead. We will follow a couple of the side hallways to check for any backdoors.” Brenloru picked up the stiff badger by the scruff of the neck to be buried.

Still within the rock-based suburb, Brenloru and Dahj tried the first hallway on their right. Similar to the previous, this one was exceptionally primitive. This area acted as a ‘waiting list’ holding area for new families that were anticipating a home of their own. For the time being, they were instructed to pick a spot in the tunnel. Morale here was lower than the subterranean housing itself. Fecal matter scattered the walkway from lack of facilities. Infants cried in hunger, inconsolable by their mothers.

One rat, looking particularly terrified, caught Brenloru’s attention.

“Rat. You seem to hold information worth sharing.” Brenloru took a knee to address the frantic rodent. He stumbled slightly to avoid waste that littered the floor.

“I don’t know nothin’ – I didn’t see nothin’.” The rat’s squeaky voice echoed, disturbing the young.

“Hmm. Unlikely… I’m sure this area is quite uneventful, little one. You wouldn’t happen to be aware of any crime in these hallways, would you? These parts are quite removed from the main tree,” Brenloru pressed.

“Nope, not me! Just another day on the waitin’ list,” the rat replied, voice raised. “Say, it’s pretty cold in these tunnels, moose! And they don’t deliver food back here too often!”

“You know what’s cold this time of year, rat? The forest,” Brenloru replied, patience thin.

Various rodents scurried through the tunnel, searching for morsels of past meals. Their squeaks and cries sounded pitiful while trying to find dry surfaces to lay on.

“Oh, here we go with the threats. All you big mammals love to threaten,” the rat remarked under his breath.

“Someone threatened you?” Dahj butted in.

“A badger. He said all us rats are the same. Snitches. Said if I talked I’d be someone’s lunch!” the rat whispered.

“I think we just found him dead at the end of the hallway. We’re trying to find who killed him,” Brenloru said sternly.

“Couldn’t have been him – this one just passed. Tried to keep to the shadows while we was all sleepin’.”

“Which way did he go?”

“Down the hallway to the end. Trying to make the backdoor bigger, it was seemin’ like,” the rat replied dismissively.

“You guys have a back door? Oh, I could just…” Brenloru snatched up the rat and held it in front of his face. “...feed you to the wolves.”

“What?” the rat squeaked from Brenloru’s firm grip around his entire body. “I thought you’s guys knew. It’s the new inhabitant’s check-in area! Puts us right in the holding slums, here!”

Brenloru dropped the rat into a puddle of urine that had collected in a depression of the stone floor. He landed with a light splatter before scurrying into the shadows with aggravated squeaking.

Moving as fast as they could, Dahj and Brenloru made their way to the end of the holding slums, posture slouched. Brenloru was forced to turn his head slightly to avoid scraping his rack against the jagged sides. Dahj touched the cool, damp walls with his outstretched fingers for guidance. Their bodies shook slightly from adrenaline as they splashed through puddles of what they could only hope was merely cave water.

Brenloru stopped to the sound of scratching. Nails on rocks lightly reverberated through the pitch-black pathway before them. A silhouette paced before a small source of light leading out of the mountain.

“Dead end!” Brenloru’s voice echoed off the end of the tunnel.

A badger made a final attempt at fitting his fat torso through the unaccommodating exit. “Oh, heh heh, hey there fellas!” he called back, defeated. “Just getting a little work done on the new-resident entrance before bed!”

“This entrance was never approved. You know it shouldn’t be here,” Brenloru said sternly.

“Oh, ohhhh,” the badger replied. “I had no idea, fellas!” He looked down at his paws, still stained in the blood of his victim.

“You alright? We should take you to get that injury looked at…” Dahj said.

“Ahhh, this? Probably just caught it on a rough edge during my dig! I’ll get it looked at when I get back to the tree.” The omnivore smiled broadly, revealing two long canines.

Without hesitation, Brenloru lurched forward and grabbed the animal by the scruff of his neck. “How about we escort you to the tree and see how the Designer feels about that.”

The badger’s lips curled before attempting to bite Brenloru’s arm as he was dragged away.

***

The trip back through the tight, weaving tunnel was even more treacherous with a struggling badger in custody. Brenloru and Dahj took turns restraining the murderer – one hand on the scruff of his neck, the other wrapped around his muzzle.

Dahj’s eyes darted back and forth from the badger to the path ahead of him. Already irritated by the precarious journey, he was afraid of how he would react should the vicious creature get a hold of one of his fingers. It was here, and now, that the bison decided that he hated caves. Nothing made him miss open valleys beneath vast skies like stumbling through shallow puddles and slipping on slick rocks.

Stone walls transitioned to wood. Dahj signed deeply as the path widened and lightened, allowing him to straighten his posture. The hunch in his back had forced his head close enough to the badger to smell its musty fur.

The badger made a final attempt at an escape. Struggling, his sharp hind claws dug at the polished wooden walls. Brenloru ran up to Dahj’s side to secure the badger’s flailing legs. As Dahj lifted the kicking creature to avoid being scratched, Festelda let out a shriek.

“What, what are you guys… what did he do?” she asked frantically, followed by Reblex.

“Do you know him, Fes?” Brenloru asked bluntly.

Festelda’s heart sank. It was Henden. His body relaxed in the Guardian’s grip as he locked eyes with his teacher. If it wasn’t for Dahj’s hand covering his muzzle, he would probably be wearing his chilling grin. “No,” she replied sternly. “Never seen him. What happened? Where did you find him?”

“He killed,” Brenloru snapped. “Right here, in the Homestead.”

“Killed? Killed who?” Reblex asked coolly.

Subtly, Festelda patted her side to make sure both her daggers were still in her possession. She had just been showing them to Reblex, but knew Henden was quite interested in them… Should anyone find her weapons involved in a murder, she may be held responsible as well.

“Another badger. Down in the new resident waiting area,” Dahj replied, removing his hand from the badger’s mouth.

Festelda froze. She kept eye contact with the murderer, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious they were acquaintances. Brenloru and Dahj knew about, and approved of her classes… but if residents were developing homicidal tendencies as a result of her trainings, they may deem her unfit to instruct.

“Where are you taking him?” Reblex asked.

“To you-know-who,” Brenloru said. “Coming?”

Festelda cursed herself for not following through with her reports on Henden. Despite her best intentions to help residents defend themselves, she accomplished the exact opposite.

***

“You understand the gravity of this situation, do you not, badger?” the Designer asked with a hiss, eyes focused on the rebellious animal.

“Like I said, sir… I, I had no idea I wasn’t supposed to be working on that entrance. It’s been an ongoing project for a while now!” the badger stuttered.

“He’s lying through his pointed teeth,” Brenloru said bluntly.

“Maybe we should give him a chance…” Reblex protested. “They’re known to be excellent diggers.”

“Reb… we just told you what happened! How could you take his side?” Brenloru asked.

“Well, I only heard your account. I mean, we could at least allow him to explain.” Reblex shifted. Nervoulsy clenching his arm muscles caused veins to protrude beneath his skin.

Festelda remained silent. Should this be linked to her class, it may be shut down indefinitely.

“Badger,” the Designer called out, interrupting the quarreling. “Did you, or did you not, kill one of your own kind?”

“I… he…” the badger stammered. “It was an accident. I don’t know what came over me. We were discussing rations – I suspected him of taking more of his fair share. Before I knew it, I was thrashing, clawing, biting. I guess I fought harder that I should have, because before I knew it, he was laying there, limp. I thought he was just playing, trying to make me feel bad.”

Festelda relaxed. Perhaps he wouldn’t blame her, and her teachings, after all.

“See? A misunderstanding,” Reblex said calmly.

“No,” Brenloru said. “Designer, look. He has become territorial. Aggressive over food. Vicious towards his own kind.” He grabbed the badger by the scruff of his neck, using his free hand to pull back the animal’s lips; revealing elongated, sharpened canines.

The Designer moved closer to inspect the animal.

“He has no place here, Designer. He has become an omnivore,” Brenloru said sternly.

“At least he didn’t eat him,” Reblex said.

“Not this time… but what about the next? What if others begin to draw blood within our sanctuary?!” Brenloru replied. “Land Reblex, what is wrong with you!”

“Raccoons have felt the influence as well, Brenloru. It does not mean we are inherently bad,” Festelda offered, holding back tears.

“Yes, and look what happened to that species,” he hissed back at Festelda.

“Bren… calm yourself.” Dahj said, grabbing his arm.

Festelda retreated from the room, hand covering her masked face as a tear dripped from her eye. As she left, she could only hope that the badger did not utter her name. Not in front of the Designer, at least. He would terminate her classes immediately over one bad apple.

Silence fell over the room. The badger smirked in reaction to Brenloru’s comment.

“This is what they want,” Dahj said, staring the grinning fool. “Division. Combat from within. It weakens us. Makes us vulnerable.” He turned towards the Designer. “I agree. Exile this beast. Show zero tolerance for aggression. We will show violence no hospitality.”

The Designer locked eyes with his converted creation. Incredibly disheartening, it is, to witness residents turn on another,” he said, frowning. “Species against species, I predicted. But for a badger to kill a badger… This is something I hoped the Homestead would never endure.”

“She is coming,” Henden whispered before the Designer could continue. “She is coming, and she knows a way in. She will shred, tear, and –”

An appendage of pitch and flame whipped through the air to rip the animal from Brenloru’s grasp. Dangling the smug killer in the air, the Designer’s pale flesh flashed a fiery red.

“You wouldn’t... kill one of your own,” the badger said, struggling between breaths.

“Clearly, you are no longer one of mine,” the Designer replied. The smoldering tentacle burst into flames.

Henden dissolved instantaneously. Remnants of the furry assailant fell from the Designer’s grip, reduced to simple components. A splash of water mixed with blood spattered on the floor. Tufts of hair drifted through the air. Bones picked clean of flesh fell into the puddle of liquid with hollow rattles.

The chamber fell silent, flickering flames of the Designer’s reclamation tentacle sated. Dahj and Brenloru stood petrified. A twinge of pain shot through Reblex’s chest as he witnessed the omnivore perish.

“I pity him,” the Designer said, returning to his table. Colorful streaks of light zipped through his gas-filled head before popping against the walls as he mulled over the situation. “But he knew my location. Those that have been converted cannot be trusted. If you see any examples of aggression, report to me.”