Guardians by Design - Land

The group resumed their journey silently. Watching Festelda disconnect with her gaze caused Dahj to reflect on his own herd. During his time as a leader, all bison – at least that he knew of – had been strict herbivores. He must have fallen long before the omnivorous transition in many species had taken effect, but was confident his own would never have been persuaded to consume flesh. Their bodies were simply not built that way. His own species had a row of straight, flat incisors in the front, used for severing grass – thus lacking canines for sinking into flesh. In the back, wide, short molars were used for grinding, instead of sharpened points for tearing and chewing. Additionally, their stomachs were simply not capable of digesting meat.

Besides, Dahj thought with a scoff, it would be quite comical to watch a bison attempt to chase down prey. What would they do? Beat them up with their hooves? Mulling over these thoughts made Dahj realize how long it had been since he had even seen a bison. He feared they had already gone extinct. The weakest animal on the food chain is always culled first, and without a suitable reproduction rate, their numbers would dwindle faster than they could grow.

Dahj’s thoughts were interrupted by another humming coming from the pouch tied to his waist. It was the appendage again, but this time more actively than the last. He stopped mid stride to inspect it, gaining the attention of the others.

“What is it?” Brenloru said quickly. “How does it look?”

Dahj pulled the tentacle from its pouch. It had doubled in size. Both sides limply hung from his hand from the increase in length. It shimmered in the light.

This time, the colors from within swirled. Browns, light greens and grays all intermingled and moved sporadically. The skin of the appendage looked healthier as well; almost every crack had faded, and only a few pieces of debris had fallen since retrieving it from the pouch.

“Yikes. It’s disgusting,” Festelda said, cringing away from it. “Why do we have to carry that thing around, anyway?”

“Too bad you feel that way. We have you to thank,” Dahj said. “We just checked ‘forest’ off the list!”

“Because… because of the interaction with my family?” she said, confused. “But that wasn’t exactly the happiest event…”

“True,” Brenloru said. “But perhaps it doesn’t necessarily need to be a ‘happy’ event. What you did was noble, nonetheless. It still responded.”

***

Dahj claimed that they would ford one final river before finding a resting area, despite protest from Reblex. Dahj, too, was secretly becoming frustrated with how long this journey was taking. Regardless of their multiple side-trips and stops, he expected the landscape to be changing by now. Promise of a truly unique, wondrous area taunted him, insisting that he press forward. Despite the trip being mainly for the Designer’s benefit, Dahj was eager to determine if this place was really as incredible as the Designer had made it sound, or if promises of grandeur were merely a carrot on a stick to fulfil untold motives.

After crossing the river, discouragement finally caught up with Dahj. The land surrounding them was quite bland. Most of the grass was dead; unable to grow on the dusty, inhospitable landscape. The pale brown and yellow colors were not easy on the eyes, and he began to daydream of richer meadows.

“Reb, please,” Dahj said, panting. “Scale that fjord and tell us what you can see from there. It should be a good vantage point.”

“Are you kiddin’ me, bull? I’m exhausted,” Reblex whined, turning towards the cliff face Dahj was referencing. The lazy bison made it sound so easy.

“Reblex. Your species is quite skilled at climbing. Just… do it. Find us a good resting area,” Brenloru said, hands placed firmly on his hips as he pushed Reblex verbally.

“Fine… But I might get comfortable up there!” Reblex laughed, then took off into a jog.

The sliced cliff face displayed layers upon layers of variously-shaded bland color. Generations of rock that had buried one another each told different stores of exposure, weather, or disasters. Reblex ascended the smooth, flat, rock platforms. Slick and narrow, they offered unsure footing. However, they made for an excellent ramp that quickly rose towards an excellent vantage point.

Matching the color of the dull landscape just outside the gorge, many easily shifted and slid under his weight. New-growth pine trees that had been foolish enough to grow amongst the constantly-shifting terrain littered the path upwards, providing support for a third limb. Needed or not, Reblex would grab onto each he passed for stability. Using the force of his legs with the pull of his left arm, he effortlessly hopped from rock to rock to hike with haste. His party watched from below with nervous anticipation.

As close to the edge as he was willing to be, Reblex hopped to a flat rock that was teetering between two others. It had seemingly shattered off the side wall from above. Falling here who-knows how long ago, the rock had slid to this point, finding its temporary resting place. Without hesitation, he hopped to the middle-right side of the unstable platform. It tipped.

Festelda let out a cry as the tan, level stone was easily displaced and leaned towards the sheer cliff. Reblex instantly leaned left and firmly grabbed a young pine tree. The lifeline was easily uprooted from the dry, fragile soil under the weight of his desperate pull.

Tree in hand, Reblex swung to his right, back turned to the cliff. Instinctually, he pushed to his right, landing hard on his shoulder as the platform and rubble cascaded off the cliff face. Sharp cracks rang through the air as the boulders shattered and splintered against the solid ground below.

“Oh my land! Are you okay Reb?!” Festelda shrieked from below. Brenloru held her back from running towards the cliff face.

“Yeah! I’m good, just… took a little spill!” Reblex called back as he gained his composure. His legs shook violently from adrenaline while dusting himself off. Luckily, the only physical damage was a skinned palm and elbow, aside from the poor tree.

He glanced around the desolate land. The feat of the trees growing out of the very sides of the cliff face was astounding. “Guess this is what erosion can do to a place,” he muttered.

Turning to the steep grade above discouraged him from continuing. Then something to his right caught his eye. “Woah,” he said. His voice projected from the gorge walls towards the Guardians.

“What is it? Predators?” Festelda nervously shouted up at him.

“I… I have no idea,” he replied. At this angle, he was able to make out more of the land just on the other side of the gorge. Beyond the entrance, geographical features of unique nature were easily spot-able due to a beacon of rising steam. “I’ve never seen anything like it! I think it’s a tiered waterfall made of ice!”

“At this time of year? The kid is crazy,” Brenloru said only loud enough for the two next to him to hear.

***

Reblex descended from the cliff face with calculated hops. Only slipping a couple times when bringing his weight down too quickly on the smooth faces of various rocks, he met the group near the mouth of the fjord. They proceeded through the towering rock-wall entrance before taking an easy right towards the ice waterfall, their stamina renewed by curiosity.

The landscape had changed rapidly. Grass was no longer scarce, and boasted a healthier color of green. Towering trees scattered through the landscape, full of seasonal leaves. Even the surrounding mountains seemed to be more hospitable, painted in greens and browns, some still capped in white at higher altitudes. There must have been a brilliant groundskeeper living here, whether it be animal or element, to maintain such pristine presentation.

Approaching the ice waterfall revealed that it was quite the opposite to Reblex’s claims. Even during a mid-spring day, light wisps of steam rose from the trickling water running down the surface of the multi-tiered structure.

“What… is it?” Reblex asked in disbelief.

“Well, it’s a spring. That’s for sure,” Festelda confirmed, inspecting the amalgamation of elements.

Crafted abrasively by mineral-rich boiling water forcefully escaping through the top of the spring, sheets of scalding waves gently cascaded down multiple levels of stone that shimmered vibrant white in the sunlight. “The color of the stone… the temperature of the water, that I cannot explain. The height of it is impressive – as if it is climbing right out of the earth’s crust… perhaps it’s water from – don’t touch it!” she shouted moments before Reblex stuck his finger into the heated pool.

Reblex jerked his outstretched finger back. “It smells gross…”

“I think… we’re here,” Brenloru said, head following the pattern of the flowing water from limestone tier to limestone tier. “The Designer told us this place is the surface of a super volcano. Well, this is simply one of the vents. This water clearly has a high concentration of minerals. Smell that? Scents from the center of the earth.”

“Oh. I thought that was just Reblex,” Festelda teased.

“Quick, the tentacle,” Brenloru said, snapping his attention away from the geographical wonder to Dahj’s hip pouch.

Dahj held out his arm, palm open, awkwardly presenting the appendage to the hot spring. The group waited, expecting it to respond. Nothing happened. The tentacle laid deflated in the palm of his hand. Shades of browns, greens, and greys with the visual properties of gasses lazily swirled from within.

“What, this isn’t cool enough for you!?” Reblex shouted at the lifeless arm.

Dahj pulled it away from Reblex’s face and returned it to the pouch, but only after he considered lurching the limp appendage at the ram to scare him off. He knew Reblex would flinch, too. The ram was all talk.

“Perhaps because we haven’t done anything ‘noble’ enough for it here?” Festelda guessed.

“I don’t think it works like that,” Brenloru stated. “The arm only reacts to unique places of the land that strongly represent it. Perhaps this… vent would closer represent the element of Aquatic. Maybe even Reclamation. Or perhaps, this place is possibly too unique. Something like valleys, or forests are far more common and strongly represent the element of Land.

“Looks like the land to me… Do something!” Reblex shouted at Dahj’s hip pouch.

Dahj scowled at the ram. “At least we know we’re in the right place. We still have canyon, plateau, and Brenloru’s Cave. I wouldn’t mind exploring a little more of the area while we’re here, too. I’d like to know how the fauna of such an area is responding to the carnivore designer’s physical augmentations.”

“Let’s keep to our path headed south east. It will be easier to find our way back. I suspect there will be additional places of interest as we advance,” Brenloru suggested.

***

The landscape contrasted beautiful compared to the region slightly further north – the ground here was much healthier. Dotted in spring flowers, fields of short grasses reached towards the horizon, recovering from the blanket of snow that had recently been pulled away by spring’s warmth. Jagged, ice-capped mountain ranges acted as a backdrop for the fields, as if setting the stage for ‘Nature: The Play’. Ice cold rivers, cutting through the land as they led to brilliant blue lakes quenched the Guardian’s thirst after a seemingly endless journey.

Dahj admired his reflection in an arm of the river where the water had slowed down to nearly a stop when a brown mass caught his eye in the distance. It was not specifically ‘his’ herd, but he was positive that it was a herd of bison. He attempted to suppress his optimism to reasonable expectations, but something was pulling at his heartstrings.

The sight of the herd in the distance reminded him of plains back home, where he would return after long scouting sessions or standing watch. He had adjusted well to being alone or accompanied by a small group of various species, but he knew in his soul; he was a herd animal. His spirit had suffered greatly since being removed from this preferable lifestyle.

“It may be time for yet another detour,” Dahj said nervously. He expected Reblex to be upset by the news of yet another side trip.

Surprisingly, Reblex already had his eyes on the herd as well. “Their numbers are healthy. I see many heads of red dogs in tow. These are good signs,” he said lowly to Dahj.

“I’m confident they know the land well,” Dahj stated. “Judging by the age gaps, there must be multiple generations making up that herd. I’m sure they can point us in the right direction.”

“Bison can be skittish. We don’t want to start a stampede,” Brenloru cautioned. “The three of us will settle here. We are close to food and water. You will approach them alone, Dahj. Just remember, your new posture may pose a threat.”

“At least he still smells like one!” said Reblex, scrunching his face and waving his hand in front of his own nose.

***

Dahj walked in a straight line away from his group, towards the foreign herd. Wet grasses brushed his ankles, some reaching almost to his knees. Keeping an unwavering stare on the herd, his eyes scanned back and forth to assess their reaction to his presence. Various bulls lifted their heads as he closed to one hundred yards away. Their bulging, deep brown eyes met with Dahj’s, evaluating the stranger. Cows slowly retreated in the opposite direction, abandoning their meals. Red dogs ignored Dahj entirely, instead following the utters they had been sucking on.

At fifty yards tails became rigid, signifying guard. Many of the bison huffed loudly and scraped at loose soil with their hooves. Dahj paused to lift his hands to show he was not a threat. He hoped they would catch his scent or recognize his facial features. At a slow walk, reaching twenty-five yards, he was relieved that he hadn’t been charged yet.

Dahj identified what appeared to be the eldest of the group and made eye contact. The bull’s hair was patchy from shedding his winter coat, and greyed from age. Unlike the younger males, the elder did not seem threatened by Dahj’s presence. He could detect something in Dahj the others did not recognize.

“Sir,” Dahj said plainly. “I’m requesting a moment of your time, for guidance.”

The valley fell silent. Every bison, save the red dogs, had paused to acknowledge Dahj. Only the sound of the wind passing through the tall grass, and the crickets calling to each other were audible.

“What… happened to you, bison? Where have you migrated from?” the elder asked. Surprisingly, he recognized Dahj as one of his own species, but knew he had come from somewhere foreign.

Dahj simply replied: “North.”

“North, huh?” the elder replied with a scoff. “There are not many of us left up north. You have made quite a journey to be here, bull. I can’t say I’ve known many bison to travel south in the spring. What brings you here?”

“There’s still a few of us,” Dahj said without much confidence, not truly knowing the accuracy of his statement. “Consider me a tourist. I have heard incredible tales of this land, guess I just needed to see it for myself.”

“Come, let us move away from the herd, you’re making them nervous!” The old bull trudged past him with a hearty, wheezing laugh.

Dahj followed. The herd stayed behind, though a few of the younger bulls kept an eye on the pair as their tails fell limp. Meeting the height of the elder’s hunch, it was hard to maintain a conversation with him. Dahj slouched his posture a little further to look into the old bull’s protruding left eye. Red and swollen, it looked as if it was trying to escape. It turned with a stutter to make contact with Dahj’s, causing the bull to have difficulty walking a straight line.

“I know every bison in this region, young one,” said the elder as he lazily trudged through grass until they were out of earshot. “I have never seen anyone like you, though. You are truly unique.”

“Yes. Which is why I need your guidance to assist me in finding my herd. I’m not exactly sure why I am changing,” Dahj lied, as to avoid further questioning. He simply didn’t have time to explain his baffling timeline to a stranger.

“What is your herd called?” the elder groaned. “Tuk’luns? I know them to be residents of the north.”

“Kleecloks. Do you know of their whereabouts?” Dahj pressed.

The elder stopped. The expression on his face turned to grim shock, as if he had seen a ghost. “The… Kleecloks haven’t roamed these fields in… many, many generations, young one,” he stammered. “In fact, they are so far removed that even I have merely heard of them in tales from my elders.”

Dahj’s shoulders slumped, but he was able to embrace the news; he almost expected it.

“Where did you say you are from?” The elder said, nervously backing away. His hind-right leg tripped over a stout rock, causing him to stumble. His defensive nature drew attention from the bulls that had kept their bulging eyes on him from a distance.

“Please, any information you have of their history would be greatly appreciated,” Dahj said quickly, holding up his arms again to calm the bull.

The elder took a deep breath and regained his balance. His eyes reddened as they darted back and forth in sockets that were too small, attempting to construct a timeline. “Their bloodline suffered severely a long time ago.” His slobber-soaked chin-beard quivered. “Without a leader, their herd became too political. Too many heads tried to lead, not enough followed.”

“I believe that herd turned into at least three. None were coordinated or strong enough to defend themselves from predators, or survive winters. Their numbers dwindled, and they died. Simple as that. If I’m not mistaken, a few in my herd have small traces of the Kleeclok bloodline from the north. But it is very diluted… That’s all I know, young one.” He inspected Dahj’s exposed palms.

“Thank you. It puts my mind at ease,” replied Dahj somberly. Approaching the bull, he patted his prominent hump to calm him. Dahj didn’t enjoy doing this; shaking someone else’s world in order to reconstruct his own. These kinds of details can be quite jarring to such a simple species.

The elder looked Dahj up and down with a hint of pity. If his instinct was correct, it would have been quite a remarkable event. He was meeting someone far older than himself. “Good luck with… whatever you are looking for – young one?” he awkwardly stated as a question.

“You know this land well, bull. My group and I are seeking a unique geographical landmarks. Can you point me in the right direction?” Dahj asked optimistically.

“Heh. I mean, I’m no tour guide,” the bull scoffed. “What exactly do you want to see?”

“I need to find a canyon, and a plateau. I will try to add anything else you can recommend to my itinerary,” Dahj replied.

The elder let snorted. “What is this, summer vacation?” he said, now dumbfounded. “Look, I don’t know who you are, why in the land’s name you look like that, or what you are searching for…” He noticed the expression on Dahj’s face and expressed pity again. The bull let out a heavy sigh. “But if it is a canyon you seek, just keep heading southeast, on the same path you were on. Just turn yourself a little more east. You will find the grandest canyon this earth knows. You can’t miss it.”

The bull slowly turned to orient his massive body in the direction he was referencing. “A plateau should be quite easy. This land has been shifted and shaped numerous times throughout history. It is beautifully unique. On your path, you will encounter water that sprays from the ground, mud that boils, and ponds with combinations of colors you have never witnessed in nature. Enjoy the sights, but keep a safe distance. If you’re not careful, you could end your bloodline for good, Kleeclok.”

Dahj nodded in appreciation. He wished the elder and his kin luck, then turned to make his way back to the Guardians.

***

“You didn’t give him too much information, did you?” Brenloru asked from over Dahj’s shoulder after rejoining the Guardians.

“He was kind. Knew of my herd. Gave us direction to sites suitable for our journey. They are not a threat,” Dahj replied, watching the herd of bison as they moved as one towards the sunset.

“The teeth,” Brenloru pressed. “Did you happen to get a look at his teeth?”

“Wide and flat, like mine. They have not been influenced by her design… yet,” Dahj replied sternly. “We will keep moving south east at the break of dawn. I want to cover as much ground as possible.”

“Did he have any information on your past, Dahj? Festelda inquired.

“I’m not entirely sure. It all sounded like lore. I will digest it at my discretion. The main take-away was that it was a very, very long time ago.”

Water refracted off the surface of the crystal blue river, distracting Dahj. Staring into it again, he realized he was looking at himself – his face. He hated it. He realized how difficult it was to approach a herd of bison. Normal bison. His own species! They looked how the species should. Not like this, the face in the river. He wanted to hit it so the image would leave his mind. He knew it wouldn’t change his physical appearance, but he wanted it gone.

Dahj knelt, eyes locked with his own. He clenched his teeth and smacked the surface of the still water. Waves rippled across the river, disrupting the image briefly. Brenloru turned to see what the commotion of the splash was. It didn’t work. The image of the face re-stabilized and continued to mock him. Teeth still clenched, Dahj slapped the face again. Water splashed off his open-palmed hand, projecting it further across the river.

This time, Dahj laughed. The muscles in his face relaxed, then twisted into an exhausted smile. There was no way to change this, he realized. This is just how is now; different. No matter how he had lived his life, his bloodline was hanging on by a stem anyway. He was spiteful only of the fact that he hadn’t been granted more time to spend with them.

The Guardians watched defensively as Dahj climbed to his feet. Once standing, he removed all the tools, clothing, and the belt he wore, gaze still locked on his reflection. He jumped. The frigid water paralyzed him. It numbed his muscles and emotions. He couldn’t breathe. He welcomed it; it silenced his negative thoughts for a mere moment. Releasing all the air in his lungs, he was able to stay submerged for long enough to achieve some peace within himself.

Water saturated his dreaded locks. The icy bath fought through his dirt-fortified curls as he scrubbed patches with his dirty fingernails, still submerged. It felt freeing. He probably lost pounds of soil and needles with a refreshing rinse and a good scratch. The crystal river streaked with brown as he cleansed his mind and skin alike.

Revitalized, Dahj surfaced in a fit of laughter. Brenloru looked terribly concerned as he prepared to jump in after him. Frantically searching his pouches, the moose sought Festelda’s guidance and suggestions regarding traits of plants that would be best for treating asphyxiation. Ignoring him, Festelda and Reblex were already dropping gear on the bank to join Dahj in the frigid bath. Festelda pierced the transparent surface of the water with a shrieking laugh. It had been some time since any of them truly swam. Trout and other small, brown fish scattered in the commotion.

Unable to endure the chill any longer, Festelda climbed to Reblex’s shoulders. He walked her over in a game of chicken to wrestle Dahj’s hands. Brenloru had waded to his waist, removing spring pollen his stubborn, patchy coat had collected. The group frolicked for nearly an hour as the sun moved west.

***

Dahj removed himself from the river and shook his body vigorously. He looked down at his new frame again. An augmented vessel to carry his mind through life. It felt cold… exposed. “What do you still have in that pouch of yours, Fes?” he said, feeling famished.

“Plenty of stuff!” she replied after shaking her head horizontally to remove water trapped in her left ear. “Nuts, fungus, berries…”

Dahj helped himself to the satchel after plopping down next to it. His legs wouldn’t carry him any further to a more appropriate resting place.

“Feeling better?” Brenloru inquired after approaching Dahj to rest his hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah. It’s just hard, you know,” Dahj replied, fixated on the sun set. Reds and oranges streaked across the sky, making him feel warmer while the temperature of the valley steadily dropped. “Seeing a herd brings back lots of memories. Memories of responsibilities. You guys have been great and all, and I know we’re doing a noble thing… But bison are herd animals, after all.”

“Once this land is purged of the carnivore’s ferocious appetite, herds of many species will be free to roam again, Dahj.” Brenloru promised.

“I hope you’re right,” Dahj replied with a faint smile as he chewed on various nuts and fungus Festelda’s pouch had provided.

The group wanted to move no further for the day. They settled in a field just slightly further from the river, near a tree line for protection. The Guardians slept as the sun was still setting with the hope of being rested in the morning.

***

Dahj felt as though he had only been asleep for an hour before being ripped awake in a heavy pant. Incredibly sensitive to the last light of dusk, he looked down at the ground that wavered below him as if made of liquid. His feet felt grounded, but his body swayed slightly as he stood. Mountains in the distance shifted, overlapping each other before snapping back into place. Textures were enhanced and vibrant. Surfaces would begin to crawl slightly if he stared at them for too long.

The shifting landscape was making him nauseous. He felt as if his meal from earlier in the evening had climbed back into his throat, attempting to escape. With the feeling that he was about to vomit, Dahj walked towards a nearby tree line to take his focus off the distance.

He entered the small forest, looking for a suitable place to lose his dinner. Straining his neck, he looked up at the very top of the trees surrounding him. They appeared to be leaning over him, looming from above, like a giant looking down at an ant underfoot. The sharp bark of the trees that scrutinized him expanded and contracted as he moved. He could see their breaths. They had a judgmental presence, as if he was on trial by his elders for past crimes. As he stared at the trees, he wondered what they thought of him.

Suddenly Dahj was very aware of his own heartbeat, which pulsed through his legs, sending tiny ripples across the surface of the soil he stood on with each beat. Turning back to where he had left his group, he found a single bull bison, accompanied by three first-year red dogs in place of the sleeping Guardians. The bull shook his head at the red dogs, huffing loudly as they ran around him in circles, laughing and taunting.

“Do it again! Do it again!” they cheered at him.

The bull shifted his weight forward to lift both of his hind legs, releasing a powerful kick.

The three red dogs giggled and mimicked the action.

Dahj gulped, realizing he was watching himself. Watching a memory. The memory that had consistently haunted his mind for some time.

He watched the event with a grin on his face. It felt so real, so lucid. It was becoming difficult to separate the past from the present in his mind. Part of him knew he was experiencing a hallucination, but wished the last few months had been the hallucination – not what he was currently witnessing.

Dahj exited the tree line to approach the group from his memory. Moonlight poured over him as he stepped from the shadows into the field, gaining the attention of one of the red dogs. She whipped around, staring at him briefly before whimpering and retreating around the bull. The bull acknowledged his presence defensively as well, motioning for the red dogs to run as he turned on Dahj, tail rigid and head dropped. Dahj froze in place.

“Is this real after all? How do they know I’m here?” he muttered.

As the past version of himself huffed at him and shook its head, silhouettes of two wolves passed right through Dahj, prowling towards his memory. Shoulder blades exposed, teeth bared, the wolves prepared to attack. Dahj stood completely still as he realized; this is it… this is how I fell. The deepest recesses of his memory had been unveiled, exposing why this moment was so significant.

Both wolves moved to attack. His past-self attempted to retreat. After dodging a leap from one of the wolves, he was unsuccessful for the second. Something was holding him in place. His ankle was snared, preventing movement. The same legs that he had just witnessed being kicked into the air!

Dahj quickly moved closer to the silhouettes to see what was thwarting his past-self from escaping the predators. A large, pale tentacle reached through the surface of the earth, seemingly sprouting from the soil like the grasses surrounding it. Wrapped around Dahj’s ankle, it attempted to pull him into the soil as the wolves attacked. The bull reared his head and kicked his only free hind leg to fight off the wolves, but they were far more mobile. Stimulated by the moon’s glow, the predators quickly moved to their debilitated prey’s sides and neck. Dahj’s memory roared out in agony as the wolves thrashed at his neck and stomach, spattering the grasses red with his blood.

Dahj watched his own eyes roll to the top of its head as the vision’s voice gurgled, sputtered, and finally fell silent. The bull laid on the ground, lifeless. The wolves turned back to the tree line; job finished. He gazed at his own dead body bathed in moonlight and blood, as the tentacle that had ensnared his ankle recoiled into the soil.