Guardian Fall

Chapter 1
Mad Tiger

         At the river near the village, children gathered to hear a story. Boys and girls, little tykes of button noses who still burned with vigor and imagination, crowded at the spot and listened intently to the many tales of the Guardians.

          Guardians were the most prominent and revered warriors of the kingdom of Ignacio. Under the command of the Hornet Queen, the Guardians protected the land from invading warlords and practitioners of dark magic. Guardians were all warriors chosen from the various clans and villages of the kingdom. Status was not required in becoming one of these warriors, only talent, skill and a deep sense of loyalty for the kingdom's queen, its land and its people.

         Seated on a boulder, in front of the children, the storyteller told the children of the Guardians, constantly lowering his voice to come closer and then suddenly raising his voice to surprise them. While he spoke, the storyteller would move his body and gesture his hands to keep their attention.

         Most storytellers were elders of grey hair, few teeth and wrinkled skin like a dried elephant that has baked in the sun. However, this storyteller was of no such. In fact, he wasn't even an elder. He was a young man, too old to be called a child, but too immature to be called an adult.

         The young man's name was Bran, or Kuya Bran, as the children would often call him. He had long messy hair, like ruffled raven feathers, jade green eyes and a complexion that nearly resembled copper. He wore a red bandana, a stringed necklace made of wooden beads and shells and a navy loincloth.

         Bran enjoyed telling stories about the Guardians to the children. There was no proper word to describe how much he admired the Guardians and how much he wanted to become one of them.

         "Then with a lunge, the Guardian struck the giant spider's head and saved the maiden from its hairy clutches!" Bran declared in a triumphant voice. The children hopped from their spot and cheered.

         "However, it wasn't over," Bran continued. The children suddenly fell silent. "Turning around, the Guardian found himself confronting several other giant spiders!"

         "What happens next, Kuya Bran?!" one child asked in a terrified voice.

         "Well..." Bran smiled, taking a deep breath before continuing with the story. "Placing the maiden behind him, the Guardian placed both hands on his sword and-!"

         "BRAN, THERE YOU ARE!" a voice yelled.

         Bran's head bobbed, while his body jolted, when heard the voice. Slowly lifting his head above the crowd of children, Bran saw Marcus marching right towards him.

         Marcus was Bran's childhood friend. They were about the same age, which was the only thing that appeared similar between them. Marcus was a giant for his age, standing nearly five-and-a-half feet tall. His body was toned with slender, yet muscular proportions.

         He had wavy black hair, hazelnut irises and stubble on his chin. There were a few black tattoos around his chest and arms and his ears were pierced with small clips of gold.

         "Alright all you chikiting, story time is over," Marcus said, passing through the children. The children began groan and disperse. "I know you want to keep listening to the story, but Kuya over here has some work to do."

         Grabbing him by the arm, Marcus started dragging Bran away.

         "Don't worry, I'll be back later tell you what happens next!" Bran said, looking back at the children, as he waved back.

         "Try tomorrow," Marcus whispered with a sneer, as he tugged Bran with him.

         Marcus continued to drag Bran away, until they had reached village. By that time, Bran had had enough of Marcus's fingers wrapped around his arm. With an annoyed grunt, he pulled his arm free of his friend's grip.

         "You couldn't have pressed any tighter?" Bran asked sarcastically, as he checked his arm.

         Before speaking, Marcus replied with a squinting glare. "Bran, what were you doing there?"

         "What else do I do there, everyday?" Bran said, replying with a question.

         "You were supposed to meet me and the others at the village entrance for the hunt!" Marcus scowled.

         "I was distracted, it happens," Bran replied.

         Marcus bit his lip as his face fumed red.

         "Bran, I say this because we've been together since we were kids, but you've got to grow up!" Marcus scolded. "You aren't a child anymore! You have to start taking responsibilities!"

         "Ugh, not this again," Bran complained, as he began to walk through the village.

         "Bran, I'm serious," said Marcus. "What're you planning to do tomorrow, next week, for the rest of your life?!"

         "I'm going to be a Guardian!" Bran replied.

         "Be a Guardian, that's all?" Marcus snorted, as he looked away.

         "Is there a problem with being one, or wanting to be one?" Bran snapped, stopping in his tracks.

         "No, nothing's wrong with it," Marcus said, holding his hands up. "However, the problem is in that one statement. I'm going to be a Guardian. That's all. You don't plan on how to become one. You don't hunt, fish or make even the slightest preparations of becoming one."

         Bran opened his mouth to retort, but no words came out. After a glance, he then remained silent and kept walking. Marcus gave a deep sigh as he pressed his forehead. The two friends stayed quiet for a while.

         "Bran, you know more about the Guardians more than anyone in the village, probably even more than the elders," said Marcus. "Do you know what the Guardians were before they were... um, the Guardians?"

         "Warriors, obviously," Bran nodded.

         "And what did they do as warriors?" Marcus continued. Bran looked to the sky, guessing the conversation's direction. "That's right. They fought, hunted, fished and did all sorts of work for the village. So before you start seeing yourself as a Guardian, see yourself as you are now."

         Again, Bran went silent. Taking one look at Marcus, Bran took a deep breath, shook his head and then patted Marcus on the shoulder.

         "Let's not keep the others waiting," Bran said, continuing to walk.

         With a large grin, Marcus said, "I'll race you there!" and then dashed ahead of him.

         And he calls me a child, thought Bran. Regardless, a smirk formed on Bran's face, as he raced after him through the village.

         The village the two lived in was a simple and small one. Houses and huts, all made from bamboo and other wood, were built a few feet from each other. While children played, young adults and adults were all at work. Few worked on pounding metal, others weaved cloths and some crafted tools and other items from pieces of wood and shells.

         As they ran through the village, they were greeted by different people. Bran was mostly greeted by children and a few elders. Marcus, on the other hand, was met with men and others around their age, particularly young women.

         Reaching the end of the village, they met up with three other young men armed with spears: Jonah, Ramah and Hiram. All of them looked closer to Marcus, in terms of height and physique. They were, however, less decorated and didn't have that many tattoos or any gold piercings.

         "Marcus, there you are!" Ramah called. "I see you've brought the storyteller with you. What happened, the kids didn't show up at the river today?"

         "Bran's taking a day off from his routine to join us in our hunt, isn't that right?" Marcus said, jabbing Bran on the shoulder.

         "Um, that's right...," Bran said in a deep tone, as he rubbed his shoulder.

         "Him, help us? Hah!" Jonah laughed. "No offense, but this is a hunt, not some picnic."

         "Hey, Bran's actually pretty skilled," Marcus complimented. "He may surprise you."

         "The only time he actually surprises is when he tells his stories," said Hiram. "What is he going to do, attract a herd of fawns with his tales?"

         "If it works, you owe me five gold beads," Bran remarked with a grin, as he flexed his fingers for money.

         "ANYWAY, Bran is going to join us," Marcus interjected, feeling that the conversation was going down a needless direction. "Jonah, you're the picker this week. What will be our prey?"

         Jonah smiled and pulled out a few pieces of white feathers from his belt. "We'll be hunting Jasmine-tailed pheasants," he said.          

         "Good one," Ramah smiled.

         Bran had heard of these pheasants. Apparently, they were white pheasants with unique feathered tails. When they raised their tails, their feathers would twist together and shape like a flower, almost looking like a jasmine. Besides having beautiful feathers, their meat was known to make the mouth water, even when not cooked. These birds were quite uncommon, but they weren't so rare that they could go extinct.

         "When will our hunt end?" Hiram asked.

         "Let's see," Jonah said, placing his finger on his chin. "How about we end at midday?"

         "Sounds good to me," Ramah nodded.

         "No problem," Marcus agreed. "What do you think Bran? Are you fine with these conditions?"

         "Maybe it's because I don't often go hunting, but what are you talking about?" Bran asked.

         "Oh that's right, you don't know!" Marcus said, slapping his forehead. "Our hunt is a bit different from the usual ones. Each week, one of us chooses what animal we must hunt on our own and we decide on when it would end."

         "Those one who aren't able to catch the chosen prey, today's being the pheasant, would have to take a bite of Salamander Berries," Jonah added.

         Bran felt fire dance on his tongue, when he had heard this penalty. Salamander Berries were fruits with a certain flavor. One drop of juice on the tongue felt like a searing flame. Bran cringed at the very thought of just having to see one.

         "So..." Bran said, as he gulped. "What happens if none of us catches the pheasant?"

         "We all have to suffer the penalty," Marcus answered. "So, are you fine with ending the hunt at midday?"

         "Well...," Bran wanted to say no, but everyone stared at him with such gleaming eyes and large grins that he couldn't shake his head to. Swallowing his anxiety and ignoring the fluttering butterflies in his stomach, he took a deep breath and announced. "I'll make sure to bring each of you a full bucket of water, when I win this."

         Upon hearing his reply, the four young men looked to one another and then pumped their fists in the air, while chanting out grunts. Bran gave a smile with his nose hung in the air, but underneath this exterior was a kneeling young man, pounding his head on the floor.

***

         
         Sunlight beamed down on the forest, scorching all that it touched. Steam fumed in the air, while flies and mosquitoes buzzed around. Perspiration slowly dripped from Bran's face like tree sap sinking down the bark. If Bran could twist himself like a cloth, he would have probably filled half a cup with his own sweat.

         Despite the clear light shining upon the forest, Bran was barely able to find anything. Leaves, bushes and branches curtained much of their view, even the ground that they stepped on. Bran would find a pile of droppings or an army of ants crawling up his legs.

         Animals hid nearly perfectly with their camouflage. Snakes and bugs roamed through branches and trees, making no effort to disguise themselves, yet appearing practically invisible. Deer, boar and other critters hid within bushes. For all he knew, a tiger could have been stalking him.

         Time was running out and Bran had yet to find anything. Keeping his head low, Bran wandered through the forest, making certain that each step he planted was light and soft. His ears twitched to each sudden sound, while his eyes watched his fronts.

          After walking a bit, Bran finally found a berry bush. Rushing through the shrubbery, Bran scanned the ground around it. On the ground, he picked up a few fallen berries. They were all partly bitten. Checking closer at the ground, Bran found a few tracks. Though he wasn't certain if they belonged to his prey, Bran found little to no option, but to follow.

         Passing through several trees and shrubs, Bran followed the trail to a clearing. Upon arriving at the scene, Bran's face lit up like a torch light. Standing at the clearing wasn't one, but three Jasmine-tailed Pheasants. Two of which were male, trying to impress a female.

         Quickly hiding behind a bush, Bran inspected the three, wondering which one he would try to spear. After a few moments, Bran decided on the left male.

         I can't wait to see the look on their faces when I show them a Jasmine-tailed Pheasant, giggled Bran in his mind.
         
         Leaving his spot, Bran circled the area a bit, making certain that the wind wouldn't carry his scent to his prey. Positioned downwind, he snuck closer for a clearer shot, prancing from cover to cover.

         He was getting close. However, as he drew closer, his body began to burn with speed and his awareness of his surroundings left him. As he got close, he stomped on the tip of a pointed twig.

         Feeling the prick, Bran let out a high-pitched whelp, but immediately covered his mouth before he could finish. Unfortunately, it was too late. The three pheasants raised their head and glared at Bran's direction.

         Rushing, Bran took an immediate stance and threw his spear, only to miss. The pheasants sprang from the spot and fled the clearing, disappearing through the shadows of the forest.

         Bran cursed aloud as he, hopped on one foot and retrieved his spear.

         "I should have stayed back at the river," Bran complained, pulling the spear out of the ground.

         As he was about to leave and search for another pheasant, Bran heard a rustling sound. Turning around, Bran saw nothing but leaves and bushes. He didn't have much confidence in his ability to track, but Bran knew that his ears weren't deceiving him.

         Squinting, Bran focused his vision. Something was there, hidden under the leaves. Leaning his head to the side, Bran finally saw something. Under the shades of green, Bran saw a color that didn't belong.Streaks of orange and black were found.
         
         This wasn't good. Bran gulped, as he lifted a foot to step back. As soon as his foot stepped down, Bran made a quick turn and started running.

         From the cover of the leaves, a tiger pounced out and gave chase. The beast was an adult whose body and weight easily dwarfed Bran's own. One strike from its claws would have been enough to break his bones.
                   
         The tiger gave a mighty roar, which shook the entire forest, sending birds to scatter from the branches. Leaping forward, the tiger lashed out its claws for an instant kill.

         Quick on his toes, Bran sprung away, narrowly avoiding a lethal blow. The tiger's claws scratched the side of Bran's arm. Now a few feet from the tiger, Bran held his head up and raised his spear with a firm grip.

         What the hell am I doing?! He said to himself, remembering his terrible odds. I can't beat this thing!

         Lowering his spear, Bran raised his hand at the tiger, in a futile attempt to make peace with it.

         "Easy there boy," Bran said in a gentle manner. The tiger responded with a fierce roar. "Or is it girl?"

         Giving another fierce roar, the tiger charged and leapt. Bran closed his eyes and turned away with his spear held up, expecting either to be lucky and stab the beast, or be flattened by it.

         Seconds passed, but nothing happened. Opening his eyes, Bran found the tiger stopped dead in its tracks. It leaned on its two fronts, while looking up, constantly shifting sights. The tiger roared, while swatting at multiple directions, as if it were trying to hit something. Whatever was going on, the tiger was now completely ignoring Bran.

         Taking this chance, Bran started walking away. He kept his spear held up and his eyes on the tiger, which still ignored him. Bran didn't turn around, until he felt at a safer distance.

         As soon as he had gone far enough, Bran began to race out of the forest. He ran and ran until he exited the forest. Outside, he fell to his knees and panted with relief and confusion. While grateful for surviving the ordeal, Bran couldn't help but wonder about what happened. What was the tiger looking at and trying to hit? Was there something there that he couldn't see, yet the beast could? A myriad of questions flogged Bran's brain.

         Looking at the sun, Bran found it was almost midday. The hunt was nearly over. With a deep sigh, Bran took his spear and headed back to the village. He knew that he would probably have to take the penalty for leaving early and for bringing back nothing, but to Bran, it was a small price to pay for what had happened. However, Bran did know that there was one good thing that came out from all of this, besides surviving. Bran had another story to tell the children, back at the village.