Guardians by Design - Land

Maurlynn paced behind a low-standing table holding the lifeless, winged lizard. Cursing under her breath, she created various concoctions of blood and scales which would be heated intensely before being injected into the veins of the creature.

Adruh sat next to two wolves against a wall near the entrance of her chamber. Silently watching her work, they patiently awaited their next orders. Their leader was clearly stressed. Since she had left the Designer’s side, much of her work was trial and error, and lacked prior research.

The pressure of keeping her creations head and shoulders above those of her antagonist caused her to work with reckless haste. These rushed practices had resulted in quantity over quality, and many new species were immediately deemed unfit to leave the ‘nest’ that was her gruesome dungeon. Failed projects were disposed of, never to be mentioned again.

Water dripped from the ceiling to the cold stone floor. Maurlynn’s shadow cast across the cave walls, projected from dimly-burning torches. Her shoulder blades pushed her skin in an alternating pattern as she paced back and forth, monitoring the winged lizard. Adruh lightly clicked his largest talon against the rock floor, sending an echo throughout the room.

Maurlynn took her focus from the hopeless reptile to stare intently at the bird.

“I just wanted to let you know, Miss, that my intel has provided me with information about the group’s shift in position,” Adruh said softly.

“Just the four animals, right? I don’t care about them. There is no point in going after them if he is not with them,” Maurlynn replied sharply.

“I felt him there that day. I am sure. I didn’t see him, but I’m almost positive he was in their company,” the eagle said.

Maurlynn let out a roar-laced laugh from her chest. “I thought you birds were known for your vision. Maybe you should get your eyes checked.”

Adruh clicked his beak shut and narrowed his eyes on her, unimpressed with her comic relief.

“We are not going after the animals,” she said. “We are going after his tree. I know that he hasn’t left that place since I resided there. I leave sentries outside for a reason.”

“No predator has been able to enter the tree,” one of the wolves protested.

“I know a way in…” Maurlynn purred.

“And when we do gain access?” Adruh asked with a slight hiss, tightening his grip on the stone perch. His talon dug into the rock, causing small bits of rubble to tumble to the ground.

“Slaughter what stands in the way, but do not kill him,” she said sternly.

Adruh’s chest fell as his eyes widened.

“Why would we kill him? He designs our food! No, no – we just have to damper his new defensive traits. I’ll need access to his table, if only for a moment to remove physical features such as the thumbs and upright positions from DNA strains. Maybe even get rid of horns while I’m at it.” Maurlynn scoffed.

“Keep plenty of food on the planet for ourselves – things that still run, mate, and populate every environment. That are, however, completely defenseless!” she said, followed by a low growl from the back of her throat.

Adruh spread his wings and clicked his beak in excitement. Hackles of the wolves raised as they tilted their head back to release a haunting howl.

***

Days had passed as the group of unique herbivores made their way back north. Luckily, sun-light hours were only growing longer, and nights warmer. Various fauna they passed were generally unapproachable, due to the nature of the Guardian’s stature, and peculiar make-up of their party. The Designer was pioneering a new breed of herbivores, and the other species living in the forest and plains had not gotten the memo.

“Maybe these, Bren,” Festelda mumbled to the moose, her voice muddled by distance and sharp wind that had picked up, passing through lush alder leaves.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Brenloru replied, accepting the combination of soft, moisture-rich plants she offered. “Non-abrasive, lush. Needs some sort of binder, though. To adhere to flesh…”

Festelda had clearly grown bored with the repetitiveness of the landscape they crossed. Only discovering new species of berries and fungus kept her focused on the journey. Names unknown, she mentally logged location, time of day, surrounding environment, and present precipitation. Edibility, however, was also unknown, and Dahj was not willing to be a test subject for mysterious fungi again anytime soon.

Their voices were obscured further as Dahj gained distance on them, but he was happy to see Festelda branching out of her expertise to assist Brenloru with his studies. While bouncing ideas off each other, Dahj observed various species for newly-acquired traits that would reflect the carnivore designer’s influence. Aside from boars and bears, most herbivores appeared to be diligently sticking to their dietary restrictions.

“See anything noteworthy?” Reblex asked over his shoulder. The prompt-less question startled Dahj.

“No, not yet,” Dahj replied with a glance. “You’d be the first to know, Reb.”

“The teeth on that squirrel,” Reblex commented on a passerby. “Have they always hung that low? They seem so… exposed, now.”

“Straight and flat, just like ours. Nothing to worry about.”

“Wouldn’t say straight,” Reblex argued. “Slight curve to ’em. He works at it enough, and they could become sharpened…” The ram had yet to take his eyes off the critter that did not return the attention. It held a branch it its paws, carefully turning it to gnaw and extract seeds.

“It’s literally eating a plant as we speak,” Dahj stated dismissively.

“You know what I think,” Reblex continued with furrowed brow, “I think they’re next. Scavengers aren’t to be trusted. I don’t like their shifty scurrying. Enough of ’em team up and I’m sure they could take down a larger mammal. Take to the trees for the vertical advantage.”

“You’re seriously intimidated by a little thing with a fluffy tail? Plus, you just labeled it a scavenger. What makes you think they would team up for a hunt?”

“Look how it holds that branch. Holds that branch. Thumbs are a rare, valuable feature of the land these days. You don’t think she’ll try to claim a species that can grab?”

“I think you’re focusing on the wrong species,” Dahj said delicately. “Don’t invest so much energy in something so harmless. We’re worried about size, speed, canines, and claws; none of which those little things possess enough of to pose a threat.”

The words seemed lost on the ram. Passing right through the curvature of his horns, Dahj turned to see gritted teeth and clenched fists.

“Reb,” Dahj said, halting his path.

“Reblex!” Festelda said, abandoning her conversation with Brenloru to address the ram’s mental state. She pulled him away for private conversation.

“What happened?” Brenloru asked, allowing them privacy.

“A hunch gone a little too wild,” Dahj replied, allowing the exchange to finish. Reblex seemed to have snapped out of it, as his physical disposition was seemingly apologetic. Festelda appeared to have a lot to say in the fashion of scolding.

“I worry about the lamb, you know,” Brenloru said, gesturing to Reblex’s turned back. His shoulders were slouched as he hung his head sheepishly over Festelda.

“Nothing to worry about, I’m sure,” Dahj defended. Highly unlikely that both the Designer and the land could simultaneously be a poor judge of character. I’m sure everyone is just tired – this journey will take a toll on some’s mental state faster than others.”

***

Too fatigued to cross over mountain passes, the group stuck to venturing through crags, canyons, and gorges with towering pinnacles. Jagged peaks pointed towards the sky, likely created by erosion, constantly shifting tectonic plates, or ancient glaciers that had once carved their way through. Slopes and easily-graded portions were dotted with brilliant wildflowers and spring trees boasted full branches of leaves. Colorful lichen, and deep-green moss decorated flat rock faces to add texture and depth.

Waterfalls were uncommon, but a welcome amenity. Frigid showers rinsed away the lingering smell of sulfur that had permeated their fur, along with dust and pine needles that had been embedded in stubborn, matted portions of their sparse pelts. The individuals that had been painted were pleasantly surprised to find their personal markings had barely faded under the cold showers, and complemented Festelda for her fine work.

Dahj’s internal monologue kept his mind busy as they breached familiar territory. Preparing questions and comebacks for hypothetical answers from the Designer during an interrogation, Dahj’s top priority was questioning the Designer about his own death, and why he was unable to remember the event after awakening into his second life. He wanted to know what the appendage was capable of once fully charged, and what they could expect when the true location of the Land Soul was finally revealed.

The projected conversation flowed through Dahj’s troubled mind into the evening, until he found himself laying under the stars with the back of his head rested against a soft log. Small flowers sprouted from the rotting nurse log in his presence to soak up the last bits of sun’s rays that twilight had to offer. The sky had turned a deep red along the horizon, fading into light purple and vibrant pink the further it reached. Finally, the clear blue of the sky revealed the stars above him, no longer overpowered by the sun’s presence. Dozing off to the sound of random banter from the group behind him, Festelda had been explaining to Reblex how and where to ideally set traps when the conversation took an odd turn.

As Dahj’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, he heard Festelda sniffling. After standing to investigate the situation, the small flowers that had blossomed in his presence withered and died. Their pedals lazily drifted to the valley floor as the damp mosses that had acted as pillow for his weary head faded into the nurse log.

“Hey, watch it!” Reblex shouted as Dahj approached, nearly stepping on one of the traps.

Rounding the trap and proceeding caused grasses to flatten themselves, creating level ground. “Fes, what’s going on?” He plopped down next to her with a grunt. Reblex already had a consoling hand on her shoulder.

“It’s my fault…” Festelda said, moping in the moonlight. She lightly plucked pedals of spring flowers that had submissively fallen to their side in the Guardian’s presence. “I thought my classes would be educational; assist in preparing smaller residents for defense against assault, while simultaneously persuading them to resist their urges to consume meat. They were supposed to be completely passive: running, hiding, along with the utilization of herbs, spores, and nettles.”

“Yes of course. I remember your classes... They seemed to be moving along quite well, and greatly benefited vulnerable species,” Dahj said. “So, what exactly are you taking blame for?”

“Henden was one of my students,” she replied solemnly.

“Henden? Sorry, I don’t recall who –”

“The badger you and Brenloru and handed over to the Designer,” Reblex muttered.

“Oh. Ohh,” Dahj realized. “Fes, oh gosh… You can’t blame yourself for a random animal’s sudden aggression towards another. The carnivore’s designer did that to them… She augmented the omnivore’s physical characteristics and provided them with the traits needed to slay lesser creatures.”

“Yeah, I know that. But, one day, in class, he seemed to be acting… weird. He was obviously quite interested in my daggers, and pushed me to teach the class from the perspective of the predator, instead of the prey. Well, I didn’t do anything about it. I ignored the signs, allowing him to kill nearly a week later,” she explained slowly. “One of his own kind, to make matters worse!”

“I still don’t see how this is your fault, Fes. I mean, he didn’t kill using your daggers,” said Reblex.

“True, but as his instructor, I provided him with the metaphorical tools. Not only that, but I didn’t report his suspicious behavior. Then I didn’t admit that he was one of my pupils to the Designer.” She uprooted a handful of grasses from the soil. “I just didn’t want to lose the privilege of holding my classes within the Homestead… I do still believe they can be beneficial, but it was a selfish act that I never truly apologized for.”

“What’s done is done, Festelda,” Brenloru said from behind the group. Only his striking blue eyes were visible. Due to his recent camouflaging, even his rack was sufficiently hidden in the night air. “I am sorry for snapping at you within the design chamber; I see now why you were attempting to defend the badger. However, Dahj is right. You must understand that the carnivore’s designer has far more influence on these species than you ever will. You were only trying to help.”

“What’s done is done…” Festelda repeated with a sarcastic tone, laying back on a pillow of woven grass supported by a soft log. “Sure, for Henden. But what about others? My own family. I abandoned them as well. Recognized the signs from a mile away, yet chose to ignore them. Then I look back, and what? Blame the designer of carnivores?”

“Do you really consider yourself to have a more powerful influence than a designer?” Brenloru asked. His tone was almost scolding. “Festelda, listen to yourself. Shouldering the weight and blame of something you simply cannot fix. None of us are anywhere close to augmenting the very mindset of an entire species! Badger, raccoon, boar, bear… This is something that is far above us.”

“We’ll see,” Festelda said coolly. Her eyes had fallen to her hands, and she focused on straightening her posture against the log.

“We’ll see?” Brenloru asked. “Festelda, what do you really think this is about? What does being a Guardian mean to you? That your earned role, and thus ‘powers’ will allow you to return home and what, magically bestow the gift of herbivore-ism upon your gaze once again, returning them to a plant based diet?”

She did not reply.

“I mean not to discourage you, and fully appreciate your assistance in joining us here, but… I don’t think any of us would argue that those radical ideas are even remotely possible!” Brenloru looked to Dahj and Reblex for any sign of protest. Reblex shifted anxiously, but held his tongue. “Even the Designer himself has come to accept that species that have been lost, will likely stay lost. We are not traveling all this way to salvage a few omnivores – we are doing this to prevent any more loss.”

Festelda’s expression told that this was not the preferable outcome of her future. Digging her fingers into the side of the log she rested against pulled away thin sheets of moss, exposing the saturated log to chilled, dry air.

“Don’t take this as an effort to down-play your family, but; it’s just one generation. Influenced or not, they will pass. Because you are family to us now, means they are family by relation. I value their existence, their presence, and their worth upon this land. However, we are looking towards future generations with our work – to ensure individuals will not endure the same heart-wrenching experience as you.”

“Fair enough. Thanks, Bren,” she said after a pause, coming out of her cloistered state.

“We just don’t want you to do this for the wrong reasons, Fes,” Dahj offered. “To see how much you have grown during your travels with us only to face defeat would be crushing. Even if you must view your gaze as a ‘loss’, I encourage you to instead reference your time in the Homestead; which was productive and influential. Perhaps you should redirect some of that energy towards further instruction for others…”

“I do plan on continuing my studies and teachings; once I have the opportunity,” she replied optimistically.

“I’m glad to hear that. You have a natural talent for education,” Brenloru said. Reblex nodded in agreement.

Dahj and Brenloru rose with the intention of retiring to their respective cots of leaves and grasses. “Don’t consider the effort to better yourself an act of abandoning your family, Fes. If they had the presence of mind to do so, they would commend your endeavors to better this land,” Brenloru said before turning, leaving Festelda and Reblex alone.

Festelda sniffed once more, nestling into the tree. Reblex had leaned on a segment of the tree as well, sharing the soft, natural support with the racoon.

“I’m not going to let the same thing happen to you, Reb,” Festelda hissed quietly after a pause, allowing the others to leave earshot.

“Pardon?” Reblex grumbled. His heavy eyelids had already blocked his vision of the night sky.

“I see the anger that trickles through your veins. It contorts your brow; clenches your muscles and chooses your words in an instant.”

Reblex rolled his head to look at her.

“I know it was some kind of ‘power’ from your previous life, but I fear the aggression will only get worse. Please, Reb. Just promise me; if you are feeling overwhelmed, come to me,” Festelda requested.

“I’m not one of your students, Fes.” Reblex rolled his eyes.

“No, but even more concerning; you’re my friend. I can’t ignore the comments that have escaped you. Remember what you said about Kemble?”

The ram gazed at her for a beat, then nodded gently. “Trust me, Fes. I have no intention on chasing my next meal through the forest.”

“Good. The guys were right; this is about prevention, not salvation – and I’m starting with you. Once you cross that threshold, there’s no turning back.” Festelda smiled, then rolled to her opposite side.

***

That night, a loud snap followed by a desperate yelp jerked Dahj from his sleep in the dead middle of the night. The air was chilled after the warmth of the valley’s surface had dissipated. The yelp had even startled the crickets in the vicinity, causing the only things producing noise to fall silent. The air was still. There was an eerie ring to the silence, which was soon broken by distant whimpering. Something was caught in Festelda’s trap.

Brenloru was already up, investigating the snared animal from behind a large rock. Dahj just barely made out his towering silhouette against the blackish-blue horizon.

Continuing to whimper, the wolf folded over to lick his ankle wound. He ignored the Guardians as they approached, preoccupied by lapping hemorrhaging blood from his punctured leg. Pulling his lips back, the wolf frantically attempted to gnaw through the wooden spikes that had pierced the skin between bone and tendon.

Brenloru grabbed the wolf by the scruff of his neck, violently yanking his head away from his self-aide. He was met by bared teeth and a flicking tongue as the wolf licked his lips, covering them in his own blood. It had a wide, black and grey mane that bushed, making his face look much larger. His deep brown eyes went from narrow aggression to wide with fear as he met Brenloru’s face, telling that he recognized the moose, and knew the damage the antlers atop his head were capable of.

“What brings you here, wolf?” Brenloru asked sharply, bringing his own face close enough to the wolf’s to feel the warmth of its breath as it panted in desperation.

“Rats…” he growled.

Brenloru stepped on the trap, sending the spikes further into the wolf’s ankle.

The wolf howled in pain, but managed to get two words out through his cries. “Our… territory.”

“Huh? What’s that?” Brenloru hissed, eyebrows raised.

“You’re back, in our… territory,” he repeated between pants. Breath mixed with the cool air, becoming visible as steam. “She is heading for him. You will be the last of your breed.”

Festelda stepped from the shadows with daggers drawn, ready to sink them in the wolf’s back.

“No,” said Brenloru, snapping his intense gaze to Festelda. “We will keep him alive.” His eyes burned intensely in the moonlight. Mixing with anger turned them a pale, pupil-less white.

“So that you can tell her,” Brenloru said, turning back to the wolf, “we will find her first.” He showed squared, flat teeth while tightening his grip on the scruff of the wolf’s neck.

The wolf replied with only an expression that revealed inner terror and dread. Surrounded by three creatures once incapable of harming him instantly sapped his reckless sense of immortal dominance.

Pressing on one side of the trap with his foot, Brenloru released the wolf then threw him down with a rough push. The wolf retreated into the night with a three-legged hop and a whimper.

***

The group immediately gathered their belongings and moved west with haste, breaking their original path towards Brenloru’s cave.

“I knew it,” Dahj shouted towards Brenloru as he leapt over fallen trees and exposed rocks. Despite his hunched posture, he managed to maintain a sprint while spreading an oil Festelda had concocted onto his arms, shoulders, and back to hide his scent. “We’re being followed. She has eyes and ears all over this forest. We need to stay far away from the Homestead until we finish feeding the tentacle, and find the Land Soul. Then we can…” he trailed off, weaving past a tree and stumbling slightly over brush. He still didn’t truly know what they would do then, or how these questionable powers of the appendage would be able to fend off the blood-thirsty predators.

“We’ll break their advance. Move west and circle up north towards the cave. They probably already know our original path,” Brenloru called up to him, already in a pant.

“How?” cried Festelda. “I mean, are you sure it wasn’t luck? It’s rare that a wolf – especially one of hers would be off by itself. If it really was a motivated attack, it would have been planned a little better than sending one of her goons to assault all four of us in the middle of the night!”

The group slowed to a jog as they considered the logic of the situation.

“That eagle,” Brenloru said, then swore under his breath. “I knew I had a bad feeling about him. He clearly reacted to the presence of the tentacle. He knew it was with us. He knew part of the Designer was with us on that plateau.”

“But he couldn’t have known what we were doing with it, or aware that the Designer is now weak, and vulnerable. As far as they know, he’s thriving. I mean, he recently created us,” Dahj replied, optimistic. He had stopped to lean on a mossy tree to catch his breath. The low branches sagged to wrap around him – they had been particularly persuasive during the night. However, it wasn’t time for a nap.

“I don’t trust this area. Not one bit,” Reblex butted-in nervously. “Ironic, that it’s home, yet I feel like we have eyes on us constantly.”

“The best thing to do right now is break anything, or anyone tailing us. Throw them off. We cannot reveal our intended destination. We can’t let them think we’re going to see the Designer. We need to stock up for even the smallest fights, and gather intel from the area. Question local inhabitants about any strange activity within this region. Groupings of predators. Assaults on communities. Anything,” Dahj said between frantic breaths while swatting away the tree’s limbs that sought to cocoon him. The cool air stung his nostrils as his breathing became more rapid. White dots spotted his eyes as visibility suffered from lack of moonlight, blacked out from the canopy above.

***

Once the group had rerouted west, Dahj insisted the group split up into a fork-like formation before moving north towards Brenloru’s cave. Everyone knew this land well, and it was highly unlikely that anyone would get lost. Each individual would be more vulnerable, but it would increase their chances of throwing predators off their scent.

Reblex agreed to take the high road. Being the most proficient climber in the group, he would stick only to mountain ranges and ridgelines. Festelda would path through the lowlands forest, providing her with an ample number of trees to scurry up should she need the vertical advantage.

Brenloru oriented to cut directly through the open valley. Should he run into trouble, his call would carry further than any, acting as a beacon to rally the group. Dahj decided to follow a river that ran directly north, connecting to a large lake desired to be a rendezvous point. He remembered this place from his younger years, and knew of a cave nearby that would be a suitable substitution should they need to abandon Brenloru’s cave all together.

The party agreed to stick to their routes for at least two days before meeting at the lake. This would provide them with ample time to gather necessary goods and rations while en route. Reblex took off like a shot. Pushing forwards with his powerful legs, he hopped from rock to rock to gain altitude as quickly as possible. Dahj shook his beard with a huff and departed to follow the river. Festelda scurried into the shadows of the lodgepole pines on all fours.

Brenloru stood back for a moment, admiring the tenacity of a group of four strangers fighting for the safety of plant-eaters. He let out a long call that echoed through the forest and bounced off the sides of the surrounding mountains before soaring over the valley before him. Perfecting it for years, Brenloru’s call had developed into a sound unique to himself. Deep and nasally, it had retained the main traits of a moose’s voice while becoming much louder and more shrill, resembling the bugle of an elk. Such a vast forest demanded a loud presence, and Brenloru’s voice had filled the role.

***

Dahj covered as much ground as possible, desperately desiring to escape the paranoia that tickled the back of his neck. No matter how many random turns he took, rocks he jumped over, or rivers he crossed to wash away his scent, he felt eyes narrowed on the back of his head. Taking a moment to step through a nearby tree line, he shrouded himself to catch his breath. While keeping his eyes downstream for any movement, the fantasy of rolling in the nearby stream to cool his body crept through his mind. He did not oblige – it would cause too much commotion, drawing attention. Am I being paranoid? This place is empty. If I just rest for a couple hours, I’ll wake up refreshed and ready to cover the rest of the river.

During his respite, roots sprouted out of the cool, moist soil to wrap around his ankles. Tiny leaves grew from the roots to blanket his fatigued body. Budding flowers decorated the natural quilt. All he could think about was laying down in the dirt, allowing nature to completely envelop him for the night to nourish his body and extract the negative thoughts from his mind. His eyelids closed as he lightly swayed in place, muscles relaxed. His breathing became slow and steady.

Dahj heard a flutter of strong wings above him, then the rustle of a moving branch. He couldn’t be bothered to even open his eyes; the rejuvenation provided by the plants wrapping him up was intoxicating.

“Hoo,” he heard above him. “Hoo. Hoo are you, Guardian?”

His eyes widened; pupils dilated. Dahj looked up at the recently-disturbed branch to find two golden eyes of a great grey owl staring directly at him. How did this creature know he was a ‘Guardian?’ Only an intimate group of people knew of this rank.

The owl had a wide, round face. Variation in color between black and grey created striking ripples around the bird’s face, resembling a calm pond that had been disturbed by a thrown pebble, or visible sound waves. The rings pulsed outwards to a well-defined black line that circled the bird’s entire face. In the middle were two beady, golden eyes topped by dark eyebrows that sat in a sharp slant, making the bird look permanently displeased.

“Well, I am Dahj…” he replied in shock. “Whooo, are you? How do you know of that term?”

“Call me Vamla. I have information you should consider valuable,” the owl replied. His unwavering eye contact filled Dahj with dread. A small gold beak poked through the facial feathers, ending with a sharp point. The rest of his body was colored similarly to his face, but of different patterns. Mostly dominated by greys and blacks, white down feathers showed through, creating a cascade effect of white on the dark bird.

“Why would you help me?” Dahj asked warily. “Your species is one of hers now.”

“We are merely a maintenance species,” the owl replied defensively. “Population control, really. Responsible for rodents and other small mammals. Things that can reproduce quickly when not tended to.” He spread his wings to air the down feathers on his sides. “I have many connections within the Cedar Homestead, Guardian.”

“H-how? You are a consumer of flesh, what brings you to that place other than a quick meal?” Dahj asked.

“Despite what you may believe, all birds have been able to maintain a strong relationship within the community of the sky, regardless of our dietary choices, Dahj,” the owl replied coolly.

“Go on… what do you know of the Homestead?” Dahj was beginning to feel threatened, as if he was about to be blackmailed. He inspected the sharp talons that grew from the feet of the owl, wrapped around the branch which he was perched on. He wondered how bad they would hurt should they end up in his back, or if he would be able to pull them out.

“Everything. The population, the alternative entrance points, the stockroom...” Vamla raised a thick, dark eyebrow.

“So, did you just come here to brag?” Dahj’s voice shook slightly.

“No. I came here to help you. I have just as much information on the other side as well.”

“Why should I take your word? How do I know I wouldn’t be walking into a trap?”

“Because that beast needs to be taken down a peg,” Vamla replied angerly. “Her reign has gotten out of control. Her testing and disposal are haphazard. Her influence intrusive and forceful.”

The owl calmed himself. “I never asked for this. Nor did other fowl species of the council. Our lust for blood came on swiftly, and painfully. I remember my head throbbed, my vision blurred. It compromised my depth perception; I could no longer fly! Not until I satisfied my hunger and caught my first field mouse. Ever since then, flesh has controlled me; dictated every single waking moment. The lust for meat is either sated, or you’re not functional.”

“What do you want from me?” asked Dahj.

“We. We want you to end the influence. Find out how she can just… pick a species and make it desire meat. Disable her connection to species that were once the Designer’s. No other animal should have to suffer from this disease.” The owl ruffled his down.

The story was convincing. A true victim of the influence, taking a stand backed by many other creatures of the sky. Or this is by the demand of the Designer, Dahj suspected. Some kind of heroic tale to inspire me to keep going. No – now’s not the time for additional doubt. ‘Vamla’, as he calls himself… could be the key we need to gain access to her lair.

“Her location. How many guards. What should I be prepared for?” Dahj pressed.

The owl turned his head one hundred and eighty degrees towards the river Dahj had been following. He turned back to meet Dahj’s eyes. “There is only one entrance for your species and those that accompany you, bison: a cave, now below the water’s surface, on the east shore of the lake at the end of this river. Cross the threshold and follow the tunnel – you will surely find her room. There is a second entrance, but is too dangerous; she will know you are coming. I suggest doing it while she is not there...”

“What is keeping you from divulging the Homestead’s alternative entrance points to her?” asked Dahj, still not entirely sure if this was a set up.

“Trust me, Guardian. If I wanted to, she would have exploited them a long time ago,” the owl replied softly. He beat his long wings against the air. With a firm gust and a light rustle, the owl lifted himself from the branch, relieving it of his weight before disappearing into the night.

Dahj relaxed his legs and rested his back against the jagged bark of the tree Vamla had occupied. A cave… The cave? Brenloru’s cave? he wondered. There was no more ‘preparation’ to be done. Either they would enter the cave, and the tentacle would empower itself on the final missing location; becoming the weapon they needed to face the designer of carnivores… or they would become a convenient snack for her and her goons.