Guardians by Design - Land

Resting Grounds of the Past

Rocks shifted to allow passage into a dank chamber. Steam flooded out of the room, carrying a metallic scent that caused the visitor to scrunch a wide, leathery nose.

“Brenloru, welcome,” the only inhabitant of the cave-like room said, neglecting to turn his head to acknowledge his guest.

“Designer – you called me here for an update?”

“Indeed, but it will be you, updating me, moose.” the Designer replied.

Brenloru’s rack knocked against hanging rock near the entry way, sending an echoing clatter throughout that bounced off the walls.

“What would you like to hear?” Brenloru asked. The Designer had still yet to fully acknowledge him, instead fixing his gaze upon a wall that displayed various pelts of fauna local to the surrounding region, waiting for some kind of action.

“Anything! You know how bored I can get down here. I suppose we never have devised any kind of structured report. Perhaps I should make you a… checklist of some kind.”

“Well, I uh,” Brenloru shifted impatiently. He didn’t appreciate coming all the way down here for small talk. “No signs of predators near the tree.”

“Of course not! They wouldn’t be so lucky as to find a meal here. How is your skill in mending developing?”

“Exceptionally!” Brenloru lied. He didn’t know how he was supposed to practice on things that were consistently protected by rock and bark, anyway. “Fixed up a few paw pads suffering from extended digging sessions. Tended to a rat that found himself wedged between stone, fracturing a rib. Oh! And, a beaver that had chipped his tooth on –”

“And they made full recoveries?”

“…Of course.”

“Come, let’s see.” The Designer had finally turned to address his visitor. He approached him just close enough to wrap a tentacle composed of stone, wood, and various other plant matter around Brenloru’s hand. He lifted the rigid limb, turning in it his earthy appendage to inspect the progress. “All of that work, by your own hands?”

Brenloru laughed nervously. “Yep! All of that.”

“Simple tasks,” The Designer said dismissively, releasing his twisted grip. “I have done what I can to pass on what the land has to offer. When utilized, it can be rejuvenating and revitalizing. I need you to pursue more difficult symptoms and injuries.”

“Where… where am I supposed to find those?” Brenloru asked, rubbing the hand the Designer had gripped with his opposite. It felt slightly numb from being held in the crushing grip. “Every resident is safe here. It has been unnecessary to respond to and dire wounds such as scratches or bites.”

“Sure, not within our residence. Like you said, residents suffer mere day-to-day light injury.”

“Are you suggesting I… leave? Tend to wild fauna?”

The Designer whipped around. His foaming eyes flared white, and his translucent skin pulsed vibrantly. “I am suggesting… You take action to improve by any means necessary. Every day, she grows stronger. Her creations grow stronger. Faster, smarter, more agile. Their hunger is unsatiated. They will find a way back in here, and when they do –”

The pelt representing ‘bison’ pulsed gently, proudly displayed against the wall behind the enraged Designer. Waves rippled through the fur, caused by an unknown source – Brenloru didn’t feel a breeze, or witness anyone approach to physically move it. There was a slight glow to the edges, drawing both of their attention.

“Well. Would you look at that.” The Designer’s mood shifted instantaneously in response to the animated pelt. “Looks like you have a friend.”

***

Cool air flowed from the peaks of nearby mountains into the lowlands of the valley, awaking Dahj with a shiver. His muscles were still sore, yet somewhat rejuvenated from a hearty meal and a good night’s sleep. Crisp air stung his wide nostrils as he took a deep breath. Sparkling frost covered the cold-wilted grasses throughout the valley, causing a dazzling spectacle.

When attempting to stand, he found that roots, leaves, and grasses had blanketed his body, providing what insulation they could. Lethargic under the grip of the nightly chill, it had seemingly taken them hours to cover his entire body; long after he had already fallen asleep.

Luckily, the natural blanket was only present long enough that the grasses did not have time to weave into his fur. He curled his fingers to scrape them away with a light rustle before making his way to a nearby stream for a drink. The frigid water made him tighten as it passed down his throat and through his chest. Though it was painful, the ice-cold water invigorated him.

“How long was I out?” Dahj said under his breath. “Maybe it’s even later in the season than I thought…”

Getting an early start would be wise. He decided to move directly to the winter resting area, rather than pass through each of the feeding grounds. This would take longer, but worst-case-scenario, he would arrive at the resting area before the herd and be ready for their arrival.

During the summer, temperatures drove the generations further north to find bountiful valleys surrounded by hills and mountains. These valleys were rich in ground cover and small streams, ensuring no member of the herd would suffer malnourishment. Vast, open area made it difficult for predators to approach the herd unspotted. The eldest, most sturdy bulls kept to the perimeter of the group, acting as the first line of defense for encroaching carnivores expecting a free meal. The guards were always his most trusted bulls. Attentive and intimidating, their presence provided soothing peace-of-mind for the offspring that remained encapsulated within the barrier of fur and horns as the offspring ate their fill.

As days grew colder, the heard would begin move further south. Snow cover was inevitable in this region, but luckily Dahj and his assistants knew of the perfect spot. Tucked away within a towering gorge was a lake that would freeze in the winter. Solid enough to support their weight, the herd could group up here, pelt to pelt, and share body warmth to endure the coldest days. Both sides of the chasm were protected from harsh winds by vertical stone walls. Predators were left with only one bottlenecked path to approach from. Jumping was not an option, and neither was descending the slick, frozen waterfall that led into the backside of the chasm. This is where he was headed. No matter where the herd was in their rotation, they would eventually end up in this gorge as their winter resting grounds.

***

Days passed as Dahj made his way to the winter resting ground. The lack of inhabitants throughout the landscape filled Dahj with an eerie sensation. He had never seen the hills and valley so barren, normally being much further south at this time of year. The place he once knew as home now felt abandoned and desolate on the brink of lifeless months.

Occasionally, he would come across other species such as deer, elk, squirrels, and rabbits. They would freeze in place, frightened by the sight of a creature they had never witnessed. Their muscles twitched lightly, preparing to dart in the opposite direction should he approach. It was quite rare, after all, to see a bison by themselves, migrating alone so late in the cold season. The animals that gave him no hospitality probably assumed he was an outcast, despite his commanding stature. The strangers only allowed him eye contact and a simple nod.

His head hung, weighted by the negative assumptions other local animals had towards him. Murderer? Outcast? Thief? Flesh-eater? Herbivores had held dearly to an ongoing peace pact for as long as the land was old. Those of flesh must never consume flesh. They lived simply off what organically grew from the ground, never each other. After undergoing so many physical changes, Dahj was no longer considered part of this group. Would his herd even recognize him upon his return?

Examining the land, Dahj recognized familiar landmarks that directed him south. The sun’s rays desperately attempted to penetrate the grey film tightly pulled across noon’s sky as he approached a tree line, which he suspected to be about the half-way point to his resting grounds.

Scanning the forest dominantly populated by plain alders, he spotted the twelve-point rack of a large bull elk. If it wasn’t for feathers and other decorative bands that hung from the elk’s aged horns, it would have easily blended in with the rigid white branches of the surrounding trees. Although the points revealed the age of the bull, the fragility of the horns told that they were soon to fall from the animal’s head. By the end of fall, the bull would begin scratching the pointed rack against trees or rocks once they became to irritating to maintain. The colorful decorative indicated that the elk was a leader of his own species.

Dahj’s bumbling weight through dry twigs and tall brush demanded the bull’s attention. His head whipped up from what he was eating to meet eyes with the lost bison. Standing sideways, he warily allowed Dahj to approach. Cows nudged their fawn towards tree cover further away, leaving their leader alone and exposed.

Elk move south in the winter as well, Dahj thought, approaching the bull. Perhaps he has encountered my herd in passing. “Excuse me, I’m looking for my–”

“What’s wrong with you?” the leader demanded bluntly.

Dahj paused, slack jawed, searching for a reply. With a heavy sigh, he gently shook his head.

“Why do you… why do you look like that? How are you walking like that? What are you?” the bull inquired rapidly. His leg and shoulder muscles twitched defensively, ready to propel him in the opposite direction.

The feathers and small teeth swayed in the air, suspended from dried reeds, as the bull’s head moved up and down to inspect Dahj.

“I’m… I’m looking for my herd. Have you heard of the Kleecloks? I was their leader, see?” Dahj nodded to the etches on his horns and markings across his fur – the only remaining decorative traits he had. “I don’t know how long I’ve been out, or what happened to me, I just need to find them before winter.”

The bull slowly stepped closer to inspect the etchings on his horns, “These are a very old style of decorative,” the leader murmured. “I can’t believe they’re real – and preserved so well… I do recognize the name of that herd, but only from tales. They have not traveled these lands in a very, very long time. It is a new generation now.”

An ache in the pit of Dahj’s stomach forced his hands to his hips. A deep breath followed, greatly expanding his chest.

The bull continued with his interrogation. “Where is the rest of your… coat? We are on the brink of winter, you should have grown it by now, and be with your herd much further south.”

“I know that,” Dahj stated sternly, growing impatient. “That is why I am trying to find them. Can you tell me where they are?”

Staring at Dahj’s odd hands, the elk muttered “I have no worldly idea.” He looked up to meet eyes with Dahj. “Like I said, that herd has not existed in a very long time.”

The cows that accompanied the leader grew wary. As they passed behind their leader, one of them dragged her hoof through fallen leaves, causing a light rustle and let out a moan that Dahj interpreted to be a signal that she was ready to depart.

Dahj persisted, convinced this could simply not be true. That long? he thought. It couldn’t be. He didn’t feel like he’d aged a day! Sore, sure. Different, sure. But long enough for his entire herd to pass away?

“Well, the new herd – where would they be at this time of year?” Dahj asked. His pulse quickened as his hands quivered lightly. He wanted to break out in a sprint towards the winter resting ground – not that his new posture would allow such a physical feat.

The elk snorted. “How am I supposed to know? We occasionally cross paths in the summer… I am not one of your kind, we don’t go as far south as you do to escape the cold.”

Dahj made eye contact with one of the cows that seemed to be taking pity on him. He stared at her, pleading for any information. Unfortunately, she genuinely had none to offer. Her ears stood rigid from either side of her head – almost all of her senses were working overtime in an effort to detect any kind of threat from the lost bison.

“Now, strange one – whatever you are, we must be moving on. The days are growing shorter and the fields less filling. I too, have a heard to meet up with.” The bull turned to the cows and gestured towards the game trail. “Maintain the peace and we will not harm you. Keep in mind, you are clearly very, very alone.”

Dahj’s shoulders slumped as the group loosely gathered and moved across the hill face, following a well-trodden game trail. Some kept eyes on Dahj, lacking trust in the strange beast as others followed their leader.

His only choice was to continue onto the grounds and hope to meet up with his herd members. The sun was setting again; time, yet again to find an area to rest and graze. The hunch of his back was beginning to ache. Standing upright like this for so long sent stings of pain over his shoulders. Occasionally, he would let his head hang limp to relieve some of the weight.

The plants around him, however, felt more alive than ever. They offered a strange sensation when touched – slightly reacting to the contact of the soles of his leathery feet. Even encumbered by the twilight frost, blades of grass and juniper branches were magnetically pulled to his skin. Plants he stepped on miraculously budded before flowering, even in the end of fall. Walking away from the pedals caused them to quickly wither before falling to the ground, colorless and dead.

After finding suitable brush cover to crawl under, the branches around him stretched and bent, intertwining themselves to form a perforated quilt to insulate and conceal the lost leader. Fallen leaves patched the holes to keep in as much warmth as possible. The sensation lightly tickled and confused Dahj. He wasn’t used to such hospitality from the land. Mind drifting elsewhere, he simply appreciated the assistance that allowed him to fall asleep.

***

Waking in the dawn of the final day of his journey to the resting grounds, Dahj severely lacked the motivation to rise and face the last leg of his journey. Eyes wide open, he blankly stared deeper into the forest, still wrapped in branches and leaves like a thickly-woven cocoon. The wrap had also offered beneficial camouflage. Should someone happen upon him, they may think they have found a severed head lying on the forest floor.

For the life of him, he could not remember the events that led him to his original waking place. He was left in plain sight. His body would have been quite easy to find – for anyone that truly sought to find him! Was he abandoned? Sabotaged? Was it worth seeking the guidance of other animals? Getting a second opinion on the whereabouts of his herd?

He simply didn’t have time to scour the forest – he needed to press forward. Every time he stood was a new struggle, yet he forced himself regardless to awkwardly continue the journey. The plants covering him unwound themselves, retreating to their original position as Dahj watched in captivation.

Surprisingly, he felt hydrated. Lactic acid build-up in his muscles had subsided overnight. Healthy complexion had returned to his face, and he no longer felt parched. Though his hunch was still cumbersome, it no longer oppressed him in pain. For the first time, Dahj had started his day with a new spring in his step. Standing and gaining momentum no longer required the aide of his walking stick.

The roots that sheltered his body had nourished him though out the night. Water had seeped from them into his skin, encapsulating nutrients offered by the trees as well. Healing properties of plants were not gained just by ingestion anymore for Dahj, he was able to absorb them though contact as well. Not only repairing his body with essential vitamins and minerals, they had also repaired his mind; offering a sense of optimism on a new day.

***

As the sun dipped behind the western mountain range, Dahj arrived at the crest of the final ridge that separated him from the valley that he had once claimed to be his herd’s winter resting area. Nestled between two massive mountain ranges, it was a steep drop from the jagged cliff faces into the gorge. The west face had a strong waterfall that dropped hundreds of feet into the basin below, running south. During the spring, the river runs full and wide, fueled by mountain-top snow melt. However, at this time of year – on the brink of winter – the river yields much less water and it slows to a mere stream until the cold completely freezes it in place.

First-year red dogs once played in this very stream during late fall while their parents settled and filled up on food provided by the basin. The east face of the gorge was decorated in small trees, ferns, and moss that nearly covered it. Facing east-west, the gorge was bathed in sunlight throughout the day, and soaked up water from the mist of the waterfall – a suitable habitat for the daring plants brave enough to cling to the eroding cliff face.

Protected from most predators by offering a vertical advantage, it also provided sanctuary for small birds that nested in the rocks and branches. Any creature that did not possess the ability of flight could not reach these precarious perches. Dahj gazed upon the basin, overwhelmed with nostalgia. Unfortunately, memories did not physically populate the territory. It was now void of life. With only fading twilight to guide his path, he quickly descended the hill into the gorge to find somewhere to sleep.

Settling, Dahj grinned as the surrounding plants wrapped him up, providing insulation. In the light of the now full moon, he heard a group of howls in the not-so-far distance. The perceived proximity sent a shiver down his spine. In his position as a leader, this was the first time a threat like wolves had caused fear. Surrounded by members of his herd, proper coordination and defensive tactics would rarely allow a wolf to penetrate the horned group and leave with an easy meal. However, this time it was just him. Alone. His body was weak, and much different than the last time he had to defend himself.

What felt like hours had passed as Dahj laid in the moonlight. Eyes flicking back and forth, he scanned the dark ridge for any movement. His head would begin to slouch as his eyelids grew heavy, but were instantly jerked back open by even the slightest rustle. As his long, wide chin finally touched the ground between his arms, he heard a low growl in front of him.

Dahj jumped up. Staring at him from about twenty yards away was a large wolf – hackles raised and teeth bared. Head hung low in a prowling posture, the wolf slowly crept towards him, shoulder blades alternating exposure. Dahj stood his ground, huffing loudly and stamping his right foot, kicking up dirt and small rocks behind him. Shaking his large head caused his beard to sway in the wind.

Abruptly blindsided from the right, Dahj was assaulted by a second wolf. Pain shot through his shoulder as the wolf bit down hard. Dahj roared in pain and shook the dog off with a powerful turn. Penetrating teeth pulled through the pierced wound, advancing puncture to long gashes. He felt like a fool; wolves would never attack solo. An attack from the side was predictable and successful.

The wolf landed on his side, but rolled to his feet before backing off. Dahj ducked his shoulder and grasped it with his hand. Blood filled his palm as he instinctually applied pressure; an act he was previously unable to perform. The first wolf had been running towards him during the clash, but Dahj was ready for this one.

Feigning disability, Dahj swung his massive head just as the wolf went airborne. Sharp, sturdy horn connected with the wolf’s lower jaw with a dull thud. The impact caused the wolf’s jaws to snap shut as it was sent flying over the bull’s head. With a loud yelp, it landed on its back and limped away, whimpering.

Another wolf revealed himself from the shadows, just behind Dahj. A third wolf. Slobber dripped off bared teeth as the new threat barked harshly at him. The two wolves still capable of fighting attacked simultaneously – one grabbing Dahj’s arm as he fell while the other assailant yanked at the back of his neck in firm jerks and twists. The third watched from a distance, too rattled to continue fighting. Using his mutated hands, Dahj punched one of the wolves in the side of the head repeatedly as the other bit his back and neck through matted fur.

The wolf receiving blows to the right side of his skull turned to retreat, finally relenting to the blunt injuries upon his eye and ear. A rumbling charge approach from the distance. Dahj turned just as a wide, plate-like antler smacked the wolf still biting him it the side, sending its body flying into the air. Blue eyes glinted in the moonlight as the assaulted wolf rotated one full time before falling hard onto the ground, body limp. The two wolves still barely standing saw this as a definite sign to retreat. Yelping and running in the opposite direction, they abandoned their friend.