Dahj awoke the next morning just as the sun’s rays were peeking over the eastern mountain range. Another dream. A chilling reminder of the past Dahj was having just before waking lingered over his conscious mind. He gazed at the furthest mountain range, eyes flicking from peak to base of each of the studious rock formations. They stood wide and proud, each frigid peak capped in snow.

He had recalled the details of this dream multiple times throughout winter, but could just barely decipher the details, and was unsure of its significance. The voices and laughter of a group of red dogs rang through his head. He could remember their faces, but not their names. Why do I keep thinking about these calves? Are they individuals I am meant to seek out? he thought. Pine branches above him rustled in the morning air, releasing needles that fell and littered the soil around him, mimicking the sound of rain.

The imagery of the field he scanned, along with the smell of chilled morning air was slowly jogging his memory. A strong gust carrying pollen from various plants danced over the valley. Elks bugled for a mate from a distant ridge. These traits of the land were helping to retrieve memories buried deep within his subconscious. Memories that could be quite valuable in tracking down descendants of his herd, should they finally surface.

Dahj remembered spring mornings of his past life; when he would head to a nearby field accompanied by a group of red dogs for the purpose of instruction in self-defense. Demonstrations generally included head swinging, charging, and kicking with the hind legs. Anxiety clutched him and he struggled to determine why these moments in time should be memorable, and possibly revisited.

All but Dahj were able to sleep through the night undisturbed after returning to the wilderness for the first time. Their respective ‘bedding’ retreated, back into the soil as each rose to face the day. Those that slept in the soil dusted themselves off while Festelda stretched and yawned from the branches above, then gathered her personal items before climbing down.

The group gathered various fresh spring berries and nutritious leaves to fuel another dawn-to-dusk journey across unfamiliar land towards the fabled super volcano. Dahj took note of animals indigenous to the region he passed through. Their reactions to the group were generally the same. Deer and elk would perk up their heads, keeping unwavering eye contact from a safe distance. Squirrels would scurry up trees, and small rodents would retreat to safe hiding places, assuming danger was imminent. The Guardians were quite a unique pack, after all. No other living creature was currently able to walk upright and swing their front arms as they moved, much less carry tools and pouches.

At this point they could rely only on the current position of the sun for direction. Should clouds move through, or the sky become overcast, they could become completely lost in this foreign territory.

***

Eventually, they came across a twelve-point bull elk that didn't immediately flee at the sight of them. Dahj approached the old bull at a slow pace, hands exposed.

“Where are you from?” the bull inquired, voice shaking. Each point of his rack curved aimlessly, as if undecided on a set direction to grow. Two points had even weaved themselves around each other. The rack seemed as old as the bull himself, each year failing to shed from his broad head.

“I am not a predator. I am just lost and seek your guidance,” Dahj said in a low voice, keeping the palms of his hands exposed to avoid appearing threatening.

“Predators have been more and more abundant in this area. Why should I assist you?” the elk asked as he gazed at Dahj with his one usable eye. His other was covered in a thick, white cataract.

“I myself am bison. My friends behind me moose, ram, and raccoon. We feed off the land. Not flesh. You are not an appropriate meal for us,” Dahj replied confidently. He looked the bull up and down, finding it odd that he would be traveling alone. He seemed to be an easy meal… Slow, overweight, blind. He pitied the animal, but now was not the time to adopt stragglers. There must have been some reason that this creature was able to thrive for so long.

The elk relaxed, believing the bison’s statement.

“We seek a place of power. One only spoken of in fables. Where boiling water shoots from the ground and life is abundant.” Dahj's voice deepened. “It is critical we find this place in order to push back the threat of the predators. Can you direct us there?”

“Ah… the land of yellow rocks. The only place I know of to find such a stone. Yes, it is a place of wonders. I have raised generations there…” said the bull, raspy voice trailing off as he turned his focus towards the distance. “You are headed in the right direction. Remain on this migration trail until you reach the settlement of the cursed prairie dogs. From there, you are not far.”

“Cursed… prairie dogs? Yellow rocks? What are you on about old bull?” Reblex asked with an irritated scoff.

“Reb!” Festelda scolded as she punched him in the leg.

“He’s crazy! Look at him. Probably doesn’t know where he is!” Reblex pushed her tiny fist away, defending himself from a second assault.

The elk turned his clouded eyes on Reblex. “Heh. calm yourself young one. You show your emotions easily. You are the ones that approached me, after all. I am simply trying to help.”

Festelda turned back to the elk to apologize, but her words stuck to her throat as she looked at his legs. Knobby and slightly bowed, each leg had sturdy hooves at the end. On the side, however, appeared to be a finger growing where dew claws should be. Merely a stub, it hung worthlessly, covered in short fur.

The size and shape reminded Festelda of the skeletons they had found in the climate-controlled region she and Reblex had visited. Perhaps this elk was… unknowingly another generation of attempted Guardians. He had failed at developing the necessary physical attributes, thus left to aimlessly wander the endless plains without a purpose. At least he had been gifted with an extended lifespan.

“Thank you for your time, bull.” Dahj held his hand up, palm exposed to Reblex with the intention of silencing him.

“Hmm. Good luck, I suppose. It is a tragedy to harbor the desire to find something, yet never truly knowing where to start. I know the feeling all too well, strange one.” The elk nodded slowly and continued down the game trail, wavering slightly on his bowed legs. Festelda felt pity for him, but he had clearly made it quite far in life. Ignorance was bliss.

“Reb… watch it,” Festelda hissed under her breath.

“What was that about?” Brenloru asked, once the bull was out of earshot.

“Sorry I just… Sometimes my temper gets away from me.” Reblex squeezed his eyes shut and huffed heavily. “I didn’t really ask for this. I want to assist you, but… I mean, I don’t have any friends. Any family. They have all been gone now for who-knows how long. I must have a reason for being here – a purpose. This has all just happened so fast…”

Festelda watched him nervously as she held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t leak information about the testing grounds out of frustration to Dahj and Brenloru.

Dahj approached him and firmly grabbed one of his horns. “Reb,” he said sternly. “That has happened to all of us. I cannot even remember how I originally fell, or how many generations have passed since the one I belonged to. We are all confused, but we all know why we are here. We demonstrated exceptional leadership.”

Reblex made eye contact with him and snorted out of modesty.

“Deep down, the most important thing to us is the earth, and the earth chose us.” Dahj pulled on the horn he was holding, forcefully turning Reblex’s head towards the southeast. “Now. Our priority – the only thing we need to focus on, is completing our journey.”

Reblex agreed, then turned to Festelda. They made eye contact and he nodded at her, reassuring that he would keep their secret.

Festelda subtly let out a sigh of relief as the group continued down the game trail. Grasses were matted down from hoof traffic of large herds that had used it to migrate north for spring. Dahj scanned the side of the trail for rigid, encroaching branches that may have caught tufts of bison pelt as they passed through.

***

The sun rose on the third day. As Dahj and his group pushed forward, the orange light of dawn blinded his left eye. Utilizing a walking stick in his left hand, he twiddled the beard that hung from his chin with his other. It had grown a considerable amount since his awakening, and now met the middle of his chest. Considering it a burden, he contemplated tying it in a fashionable way to keep it more manageable.

“How about you, Bren? Do you remember how you first fell?” Dahj asked, pulling at his chin hairs.

“Well yes, of course. That memory passes through my head at least once a day. It was an event that I may never truly understand,” Brenloru replied through labored breathing.

“Heh. Well consider yourself lucky. At least you know how you fell.”

“Quite literally, in fact,” Brenloru replied. “I was doing my normal rounds, on an average day. Up at dawn, patrolling the nearest mountain ridge, calling for lost moose. We are a rare species, after all. Should any of us need a home or protection, I acted as a beacon to guide them to safety.”

“It was the middle of summer; I expected a beautiful day. As I called and called throughout the afternoon, the sky suddenly grew dark. I tried to think nothing of it, as I had been through plenty of storms. This one came on much faster than I was prepared for, however. I always kept to the very edge of cliffs, as to project and amplify my calls as much as possible.” Brenloru suddenly became quite cautious with his footing.

“I soon found myself under a downpour. Lighting streaked through the sky. The soil became saturated with water so quickly, it caught me off guard. I finally decided it was time to seek cover; quite ironic, I now realize,” Brenloru snickered. “Suddenly it was I that was seeking refuge. I turned directly into the wind. Rain pelted me right in the face – I had to keep my eyes closed. A strong gust hit my left shoulder, and I sidestepped… right to the very edge of the cliff I had been calling from. It easily crumbled under my weight, and I tumbled,” he said mournfully.

Festelda yelped, as if watching the story in real time.

“It felt as though every impact during my fall was followed by the crash of thunder. When I finally came to a stop in mud, I could feel every shattered bone in my body, yet I could not worry about myself. I feared for my family. As I laid there, motionless, my body quickly sank into the mud. Everything grew dark,” Brenloru continued, keeping his eyes to the ground. “Next thing I knew I was waking up in that very dirt – which was now completely dry, mind you. It covered my entire body. As I pushed myself out of the pile of crumbled dirt, I found that flowers had grown on my temporary grave.”

“That was… beautiful!” Festelda cried with a tear in her eye.

“That storm, though. Very peculiar,” Dahj said with a raised eyebrow. “Quite unlikely for that time of year.”

“Something I ponder every day, friend,” Brenloru replied sternly. “However, nature can be quite unpredictable. I have seen many extreme demonstrations from the elements in my time. In fact –”

Brenloru’s thought was cut short as the team breached the tree line of the lodgepole pine forest they were pushing through. Before them laid another open valley, yet this one was quite striking. The land was littered with deep holes. Grasses that once blanketed valley and surrounded the holes were now nonexistent. The dirt was seemingly quite void of life in general. Barren and dusty, the tan soil was disturbed by even the slightest breeze.

As they cautiously approached holes dug sporadically throughout the barren terrain, they discovered small, lifeless bodies. Shrieks came from the within the holes in response to their presence.

“Prairie dogs,” muttered Brenloru. “I recognize the squeals. They’re distressed.”

Using a stick, Dahj prodded a couple of stiff, lifeless bodies strewn about the field. Some fresh, others had begun to decompose. “You don’t think?”

“Yes, the cursed,” Brenloru replied.

“Cursed! HA. A bold-faced lie from a crazy old bull. Curses don’t exist. He was trying to scare us,” Reblex boasted, attempting to mask his concern.

“Look at them. Famished. They were quite thin when they perished,” Festelda observed.

As they continued to inspect the bodies, a prairie dog slowly emerged from one of the holes. “Hel...p… me… Are you here to help… us?” he stuttered dryly, exerting all of his energy to crawl towards the group. The bags under his eyes drooped deeply. His empty cheeks hung deflated from the sides of his face like the excess skin of a large-breed puppy. His front teeth were exposed a considerable amount, even for a prairie dog.

“Stop right there! Are you really cursed?” Reblex shouted, face turning red.

“Yes, cursed… she.... cursed us. The one with the yellow eyes,” the weak prairie dog stammered.

“Yellow eyes…” Brenloru mumbled under his breath.

“Come here, little one. Tell me more.” Brenloru smashed a pack of herbs in his hands and picked up the small animal.

The prairie dog coughed harshly when exposed to the herbs Brenloru had chosen. Tiny ribs protruded though his strained body as he wheezed, unable to breathe.

“Maybe not right now,” Dahj said, lowering Brenloru’s hand that contained the herbs.

“They were helping!” Brenloru said irritably. “Fine. Eat this, little one.” He cupped seeds in his opposite hand and fed them to the prairie dog.

“Your name,” Reblex said firmly once the prairie dog had worked through the coughing fit.

“Rint.” He picked seeds from Brenloru’s palm one at a time, quickly shoving them in his mouth. “She… she cursed the land. Food no longer grows. She tried to send her goons after us. But we hid. We hid in our network of tunnels beneath the surface. We kept scouts on post at all times,” he slowly explained between nibbling on seeds. “We developed calls to warn of incoming predators. They were rarely successful in catching us. She became so frustrated that she cursed this soil and left us to starve.”

“Can you further describe her?” Dahj asked.

“She… she didn’t look like her goons. Yellow, narrow eyes. Like slits in her head. Large, muscular. That’s all I remember. If you are on post, and you see those eyes in the moonlight, you know it’s time to hide,” Rint mumbled.

“What is the status of your numbers, Rint?” Festelda asked calmly.

“Dozens still, but all weak… all tired,” Rint squealed. His small belly bulged, and color had begun to return to his face.

Brenloru set the famished animal down on the dusty soil. Rint continued eating the provided seeds one at a time as he nervously scanned the area for the predators that had cursed him.

“Reblex and I will begin to gather food outside of the cursed area,” Festelda stated slowly, scanning the horizon. “Rint, please gather as many of your kind as possible for healing salves and Brenloru’s remaining nuts and seeds. We will work on fixing this ‘curse’ at dawn.”

“Salves,” she said sharply to the moose before departing with Reblex. “No more powders.”

“Oh, uh… right,” Brenloru replied, returning to rummaging though his bags.

Dahj and Brenloru crafted temporary shelters for the prairie dogs by calling on the assistance of roots, leaves, and soil away from the proximity of the cursed land,. Kneeling, Dahj placed his hand – palm down, on healthier prairies. Dirt moved voluntarily to cover the back of his hands, forming the shape of igloos which were reinforced by roots and vines. Leaves sprouted from the roofs of the small huts for insulation and shading. Unearthed pebbles rolled to the base of the walls as a foundation for the tiny structures. Although primitive, they would have to do for the time being.

Most of the shaken prairie dogs happily moved into the row of healthier housing. Rint, however, protested at the small detail of the housing being above ground. He insisted that should the beast with yellow eyes and her goons return, the small, fragile housing would be far more accessible. Dahj assured the stubborn prairie dog that he and the Guardians would be present throughout the night to protect them, should that issue arise.

The weak residents were comforted and provided fatty foods to fill their empty stomachs. Many were barely hanging on; outlines of ribs and hip bones were visible under their skin and fur. Basic motor skills were suffering. Communication was almost non-existent. Quick to flop down, they curled up in the small beds of dew-covered grasses that grew naturally from the flooring. The comfort of living plants was intoxicating. Some had fallen asleep before the sun had set, while others discreetly nibbled on their carpets of grass within their homes.

Brenloru lined the insides of their housing with traces of soothing oils. To Dahj’s surprise, it calmed their frail minds, allowing sleep to join them in the crafted domes. He commended the moose, who wore a smug grin as if he expected it all along.

The Guardians regrouped with Rint once they were satisfied with the living conditions provided to the prairie dogs for the night. Grouped just on the edge of the lifeless land, Dahj comforted Rint into divulging more information about this beast that had been cursing the landscape.

Dahj hid worry regarding his adversary’s supernatural arsenal that the Designer had failed to prepare them for. His fingers were barely functional. His posture was a hinderance. The only weapons he possessed were primitive and fragile. How was he supposed to repel curses? Was this something one of Brenloru’s mending concoctions could counter in a pinch?

“Why didn’t you move? Or at least seek food from elsewhere?” Dahj inquired, sitting with a heavy slouch next to the tiny creature.

Rint sighed and shook his head. His wide-eyed gaze seemed to be passing right over his own territory with a shocked sense of defeat. “We were already weak… and hungry. Sleepless nights tuned into long days of being petrified with fear. It felt as if we were being surrounded, hunted, all hours of every single day,” replied Rint the rattled.

Dahj nodded. In a sick sense, he knew the feeling all too well. However, his species was far more mobile, and at least stood a chance at fighting back. “Feeling trapped… is something I cannot relate to. It must have been awful, little one, to feel like a prisoner in your own home.”

“Yes, bison…” Rint replied somberly. “But it is in our blood to utilize natural protection, rather than mobility.”

***

Brenloru was up before sunrise, pacing the proximity of the cursed area. Grabbing handfuls of the soil from the dead, hardened soil was difficult. The moisture-less ground required multiple scrapes of his dull, leathery fingers just to procure enough to smell. Holding the earth to his nose, he inhaled deeply, scanning the valley before allowing the soil to fall though his fingers. The dirt fell to the ground with a stale crunch.

“What do you think?” Dahj asked with a yawn.

“This soil is dead, but it is not cursed.” Brenloru sighed. “I don’t know how to tell this to the little guy’s face, but the land is abused.”

Dahj looked confused as he scanned the same valley.

“You should understand, bison.” Brenloru glanced at him. “You mentioned harvesting rotations were quite important to you during your time in a position of leadership. ‘Never stay in the same area for too long or you risk killing the land from which you feed’, is basically what you meant… Take these animals for example. Farming, digging, sleeping, eating, defecating, urinating. Daily, perpetually. In the exact same place, every single day.”

Dahj nodded in agreement. “As with any living thing, the soil has been suffocated.” He sighed in relief. So, no curse after all – from the carnivores, at least… Sounds like these guys cursed themselves.

“It sounds selfish of me, but I am quite glad to hear that,” Dahj said, turning to Brenloru.

“Ha, you were foolish to ever think there was one!” Brenloru replied mockingly. “Let’s find the dog and explain to him exactly what is going on. I think I have an idea of how we can help.”

***

Dahj and Brenloru met with Rint to explain the situation.

“To put it bluntly, there is no curse, little one,” Brenloru stated. “In fact, you have killed the land yourself!”

Rint let out a small squeak in protest.

“How important is it to you that we keep you in this exact place? If you are willing, we can relocate you to greener pastures, which I strongly recommend,” Dahj suggested.

“No!” Rint cried. “This is our home. We can’t just leave now! Sun exposure, visibility, water availability. It’s all here. It’s paradise for our species.”

“Okay then, we will need to take a different approach. But first you need to understand; soil, although unmoving, is ‘living’ in a sense as well. When it is not receiving clean air, and experiences excessive foot traffic, while consistently yielding crops – it can become sterile. We need to… start over, if you will,” Brenloru explained calmly.

“What does that mean, what will you do with our home?” Rint appeared devastated. The bags under his eyes sagged deeper than in his famished state.

“We’ll fashion a tiller. Cave-in every tunnel, then rotate the soil using the tiller. Once turned, alfalfa will be planted – one of my favorites, in fact,” Brenloru said with a smile. “It is an excellent crop to promote healthy dirt. Your relatives can feed off the quickly growing alfalfa in the meantime, until the land is ready for you to move onto a different crop. It is high in protein and nutrients. Not only will it feed your territory, it will feed you as well.”

Brenloru retrieved a handful of alfalfa seeds from a pouch on his waist and turned them over to the prairie dog. “Inform your party of our plan. Educate them on the importance of caring for dirt and tending your crops. We will take care of the rest.”

By the time Festelda and Reblex had returned with rations, Dahj and Brenloru were already hard at work on their tiller. Gathered sticks that had naturally sharp ends from being snapped in half were further honed to act as prongs.

“Festelda. Can you braid me dried grasses? About three feet in length,” Dahj asked bluntly. He was quite stern when focused on a project.

“I… uh, yeah sure. I think I can do that,” she replied, hastily scanning the area for suitable materials. Slightly taken aback, she was impressed to see Dahj so motivated. His general approach to stressful situations had been with caution or unease. Now he was forcefully banging a sharp rock against the end of a stick. The shape and deadliness of the tool he was crafting intrigued her.

“Reb, we’ve got a special project. Just for you,” Brenloru stated as he chose sturdy, flatter sticks that would make suitable skis.

“You don’t really want me to dig my hands into those bacteria holes… do you?” Reblex asked.

“No, no. You’re going to take a… blunter approach,” Brenloru assured him.

***

Festelda fastened sharpened sticks to a frame on skis using braided grasses. The makeshift farm tool slid across the top of the ground, digging the sticks Dahj had honed into the soil. Brenloru would need to stand on the skis to provide the weight needed to keep the fan of spears submerged in the dirt while being dragged along. The sturdy bison volunteered to pull the weight behind him, though he felt more like an ox during this stage of the project.

Provided with handfuls of alfalfa seeds, Festelda followed in the wake of the primitive farm tool to scatter new life across the recently turned soil. Even Reblex had a special job, that he was quite excited about. Cheeks red and howling in delight, Reblex stomped as hard as he could on the roof of the prairie dog’s housing, caving in their small tunnels. Some were deeper than others, causing his foot to fall straight through. Falling to his butt sent him into fits of laughter.

The group stood back and admired their work. The soil had been turned, bringing much darker, wetter earth to the surface. Seeds scattered across the top made an attractive garnish. Small clusters of grey clouds had gathered over their head as they worked, releasing a gentle sprinkle across the fresh plot as they finished their project.

Dahj let out a hearty laugh as rainwater ran through his beard and dripped to the ground below. Releasing the handles of the tiller, he slapped his hands together to dust them off. Prairie dogs that could muster the strength to leave their dirt-igloos came out to dance and celebrate in the light showers of optimism.

“Give the alfalfa time to sprout,” Brenloru said to Rint. “In the meantime, begin digging your network of tunnels again. This time, perhaps with more planning, yes?” he said with a raised eyebrow. “Sleeping in one area. Facilities in the furthest region possible. Food storage on the opposite side.”

“The curse… has been lifted!” Rint shrieked. “I cannot describe my appreciation, and hope that I can offer some advice myself!” The Guardians turned to him. “Communication is important. Sometimes sentences take too long – you would do well to utilize split-second chirps that only your kind recognizes,” he advised.

“I’m not doing no squeaks to get someone’s attention,” Reblex said flatly.

“How about a quick click?” Rint pressed. “Take your tongue and press it to the roof of your mouth, trapping a pocket of air. Then just pull down.”

“Tok! Tok! Thok! Tak! Tok!” the Guardians practiced, mocking each other’s facial expressions or initial failures.

“I like it!” Festelda exclaimed.

“Thank you, Rint, that is solid advice,” Brenloru said, beaming.

“It’s the least I can do,” Rint said and clicked his tongue.

Dahj’s chest welled with pride from the ability of his party to accept individual tasks with the purpose of a common goal. He was no longer afraid of curses.