Long gone was the stench of squelching entrails. Now, a salty, gamey smell permeated the smooth ribs of the cave walls, making Rane’s mouth water. It seemed like such a mundane thing, the scent of seared game, but it only now occurred to him. I am not sure when was the last time I had a fully prepared meal. The dried fruits and meats of The Guardian’s storeroom had been the closest thing he had to a civilized meal.


    Rane turned the buck rabbit over his makeshift spit, watching in apprehension as the meat began to sear and blister, dripping fatty residue that caught light in the flames below, causing the fire to flicker and pop at irregular intervals. After a while, the dripping slowed, and the blisters turned to dark browns and blacks, leaving a layer of crust on the meat that would provide a distinct flavor to his meal.


    Rane smothered the flames by laying a wet skin on his bed of coals, tapping a few times to leave nothing but smoldering remains. It was still hot enough to provide a bit of warmth as he leaned forward with his knife, carefully cutting a strip of meat away from the hindquarters.


    He placed it in his mouth without blowing on it or waiting for it to cool down. Rane came close to spitting the foreign object out reflexively; however, the taste permeated what seemed like his entire body, giving him a sense of relaxation so smooth that he paid attention to little else, not even noticing The Guardian noiselessly approach.


    Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Rane felt like a child that had been caught with his hands in the jelly jar. This made little sense, as he was eating meat that he had killed and prepared by himself, but the feeling remained. It was just a feeling of constant worry, that perhaps there was something he was doing wrong. Who knew what such a strange creature would consider a slight. Well, I don’t think I even meet the criteria to offend.


    In an odd way, this was the first time he could be happy that he wasn’t stronger. In the eyes of The Guardian, he may as well be a kitten, or some small shrew. Were he a tiger or badger, maybe their relationship would be more strained. As things stood, though, he was the shrew, a non-threat. The worst thing he could do to the thing, even if he were trying his best to kill it would likely amount to little more than annoyance.


    But it grated at his mind. No matter how much the tamer assures that his bear only eats berries and fish, one would still not find a hare willing to spend the night in its bed. It felt like living underneath a cliff held in place by twigs. Even when it spoke, Rane got the sense that it was being gentle. Could it kill him with a mere thought?


    Rane shook his head. He couldn’t dodge this issue further. He waved his hand, trying to get the attention of The Guardian. The creature quickly returned his attention, and Rane felt a tickle in his skull as it directed the feeling of a question at him.


    Rane took a breath as he tried to compose his thoughts into their most coherent form. The last thing he wanted was a misunderstanding with a seltient class monster that had a mind above his own comprehension. He exhaled and began to portray his question.


    He imagined himself leaving the lair with a sense of apprehensive freedom, walking on quickly until he faded into the distance. He imagined himself in a few different situations throughout the forest, mostly hiding, then finally, he sent his final message, an image of Auryck, as he remembered it when he marched away years ago. He poured into the final image a sense of strong comfort, the comfort of sleeping in the same safe location over and over. Home.


    The Guardian responded. It sent images of its own lair and of its perch high on the mountain. Home wasn’t the same for The Guardian. This cave was not safe due to location or shelter from the weather. It was safe because The Guardian lived there. It viewed home as a fundamentally different concept. Its home was likely this entire section of the Kelston Great Wood. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    It then sent a feeling that made Rane incredibly uncomfortable, disagreement. It countered with a suggestion of its own. Of Rane staying here through the changing of seasons. Eventually, the Rane in the visions began to venture out with greater regularity, and was growing larger. After countless cycles of green to red to brown to dead and back around to green again, a vision of Rane that was nearly too tall to stand in the cave challenged and killed the serpent with ease, like a farmer would dispatch a stalk viper with the end of his hoe.


    Panic started to rise in Rane. This was not a bad deal, but did it mean that The Guardian would not allow him to leave? There was nothing to do but for Rane to stand his ground.


    Rane conveyed gratitude and confusion, but insisted on his departure.


    The Guardian grew silent, shutting its mind off from Rane. The last thing he felt was a small tinge of solitude from the creature.


    The cave felt smaller suddenly, and more silent. He could hear himself breathing, and could feel his heart pounding. A sharp draft caressed some exposed skin and Rane shivered immediately, glancing down at the buck rabbit that he had barely touched.


    He scooted forward, trying to make as little noise as possible, and began to pull strips away, eating slowly and carefully, leaving his mouth closed and keeping as still as possible.


    Could this be why noble etiquette is so demanding? Because most of their family tables hold a creature comparable to The Guardian at their head? Such a thing certainly made Rane consider his table manners. Such small actions seemed to grow in importance when the thought that doing something uncouth could draw the ire of a monster.


    The Guardian opened its eyes and mind again, making Rane fall backwards as he saw what it wished him to see.


    Rane left the cave and set out through the forest. A vision flashed past, of what seemed like a sea of countless trees, and Rane thought briefly that it could be a top down view of the forest. The vision of Rane continued through the forest, blazing a path that brought him deeper and slightly higher until eventually, the Great Wood became something of a Great Plain, and the vision of Rane turned here, and followed it to its conclusion.


    Was this the way he had to leave the forest? But the creature was not finished speaking with him.


    Rane saw branching paths, and the vision of himself began to explore those paths. Some flashed with the anger and resentment of The Guardian; others brought feelings of contentment and joy.


    In one path, a vision of Rane slipped and slid down a mountainside, lying broken at the bottom. In another path, he was surrounded by axtls, his body dismembered before he could fully die. In another, Rane looked out towards a broad wall of trees and stepped forward into them. He walked along rivers, he leaped through trees, he died to axtls and elves and monsters that he had never seen before but The Guardian surely had.


    Rane did not recognize all of the paths, but the paths that The Guardian associated with positively all tended to end up at the same place: back at his lair, or, with even greater joy, at the peak of the mountain.


    Rane thought for a moment, trying to discern what it was that the creature was trying to convey to him. It was a condition, or maybe a set of conditions. Regardless, it seemed that the creature had agreed to compromise, and it wanted something simple.


    It wished for Rane to come back one day, hopefully stronger, and stand with it atop the mountain.


    Rane expressed the deepest sense of gratitude that he could muster, and then imagined himself back in the spot he found himself in now, taller, stronger, and more sure of himself. He imagined he and The Guardian leaping from rock to rocky outcrops, snow growing heavier and heavier as they increased elevation. In Rane’s world, the peak of the mountain was a blurry place, for he had only ever been there in the visions of The Guardian, and the creature clearly saw the world not just more sharply, but also somehow completely differently. Nonetheless, he continued his vision, where he departed from the mountaintop, but did not end it there.


    Rane imagined himself going back again and again as he grew in age and power, each time journeying to the mountaintop with The Guardian. Finally, Rane revealed his final ambition. He imagined himself and The Guardian leaping from the mountaintop together, both exuding the raw strength of seltience, and blazing a trail through the Great Wood in a glorious hunt.


    He did not know whether The Guardian would take him seriously or not, but his goal had been clear from the start. He needed to be stronger. Strong enough to hunt monsters.