Iago was shaken gently, and his shoulder shoved back on instinct. The figure behind stumbled, but they did not leave. He shook his head free from his feelings, at least temporarily. He still had work to do tonight. He didn’t know how long he had been standing and staring at the spot Verte had been laying after the poachers had got her. After he’d been too slow. Again. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, and he broke the cement of grief which surrounded his feet. How much time had he wasted?

He turned to find who he expected, a long-limbed baboon with crimson fur. The air immediately around the ape warped as if in great heat. Iago knew it would burn, if Joa willed it.

“Are you ready to return?” Though his mouth didn’t move, Joa’s words carried along the air regardless, the thick and heavy pitch falling like ash.

Iago cleared his throat once before responding, “Yes.”

“And-“ Joa glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry about that. The whole ah, shoulder shove.”

“It isn’t the first time I’ve had to drag you kicking and screaming from your sulking, and I suspect it won’t be the last. Unless this failure broke you?” Joa’s eyes trailed to Iago’s sword.

The word ‘failure’ was cold water on a fresh burn, but he straightened his spine in defiance. Perhaps this would be his last time sulking, but it wouldn’t be because he broke.

“Good. You are a wounded kitten no longer. Now, I believe Dannious is waiting.”

Iago nodded as they continued through the forest, passing the mystical foliage that was once so alien to him. Now, it was common. Then again, it was his only home, as far back as he could remember. Still, he was human. He wasn’t born with the sense of belonging as all the animals, he had to work for it.

He replayed the fight in his mind, picking out how he could have done better, but he struggled. He’d recognized the sashes of the poachers and what type of Mage each were beforehand, avoided all crossbow bolts, and even picked out whose armor looked like it had the easiest joints to slip into. The only thing he could have done better is have been there faster and prevented the capture before it ever happened.

Something stuck out, however. One of the Mages had known his name. This wasn’t incredibly uncommon – as he understood it, he was fairly well known in the outside world among poachers as The Guardian, specifically of this forest, but the man spoke as if he knew him personally.

If there was any positive that could be taken away, it was that some of the common poachers this trip were frightened of the title. It wasn’t enough to stop them from entering, and for that they each lost their lives, but with each death, Iago hoped they grew closer to a concept so foreign it may as well not exist: Peace. He hoped for a lot of things, these days.

It was all he fought for. One day perhaps they could expand back to the fringes of their forest, without the fear of encamped men and women with bills to pay seeing each creature as a bar of gold. He would achieve peace, or he would die.

At the moment, peace did not seem feasible.

Iago’s eyes snapped to a tree above and he fought back the urge to drop into a crouch. A pair of baboons glanced at them before retreating back. They were just doing their job; that was good. They should be commended. Other than Iago, the baboons were the strongest line of defense for the whole forest. Without Joa and the rest, they would have been wiped out a long time ago.

The two of them emerged into a massive clearing, dominated by a single tree in the center.

It had light grey-white bark which branched and twisted like shattered glass. It towered high enough that it could be seen from the top of any tree in the forest, and its canopy alone covered the entire clearing, giving the surrounding few acres an extra level of shade. Only the relative thinness of the leaves at the edges allowed those trees to grow at all; this close to the trunk, however, the canopy was so thick that not a single tree could. Thus, the clearing. Its roots were hidden beneath the ground, each as thick as any regular tree in the forest, and so powerful that were they to dip into the underground lake below, it would be drained dry within days.

Nobody knows how it survives, but nobody questions it either. It is the Ancestor Tree, the most ancient of all in the Awakened Forest. Though he didn’t understand it, Iago knew his sword came from it as well.

Buildings covered much of the area, all wooden and shoddy. The real structures were beneath the ground, built close to the roots.

Joa nodded to passersby as they headed for the trunk itself. Iago passed more Awakened creatures than anywhere else in the forest – frogs which look normal until their glass-like tongues shoot out, spearing birds from the air and swallowing them whole, a pair of rabbits the size of two grown bodybuilders carrying a crate of lumber between them, teal wolves whose teeth dripped briny ocean water, and packs of hummingbirds as many as fifty in total, all moving in perfect unison. It was beautiful.

It was also a treasure trove for poachers, should they ever reach this place, which was why he also saw approximately half the guard population of the baboons stationed as well.

Finally, the tree was reached, and he found Dannious in his usual position: asleep against the base, dozens of flowers and plants sprouted around him. How they survived was a mystery – yet another chalked off to “The Ancestor Tree is strange.”

Dannious himself was the most respected Awakened Beast in the forest, and so he held the title of chief, as he had for, according to some of the oldest sources in the forest, hundreds of years.

He was also a giant rat. The size of a hippopotamus.

One eyelid flicked open at their approach, “Is that Joa and Iago?” His voice creaked, heavy with sleep.

“Yes, Chief. It is us.” Joa spoke with reverence and bowed his head nearly to the ground.

Iago wasn’t sure why, for two reasons. One, Dannious never seemed one for such propriety to him, but he was still a stranger here, in many ways. They knew things he didn’t.

The second reason was harder to discount. Dannious was completely blind.

The other opened, revealing his pair of purely grey eyes, one of which had a scar over it.

Dannious, to Iago, was an enigma. He didn’t go blind from the injury as his other eye was untouched, so he must have been always blind, right? Wrong, Dannious spoke of the days he could see with wistfulness every day the sun rose. Therefore, it came after he was injured, right? Also wrong, apparently. Was he even blind at all?

When Iago brought the idea up to him, Dannious laughed.

“Ha! Of course. Do you think they’d let someone who can see be the chief? Have you seen the state of the forest? They would quit on the first day!”

Another thing that confused Iago is that he couldn’t tell in what way Dannious was Awakened. Usually something happened to the world around them – air warps from heat around Joa, a gazelle named Yuhata has icicles fall around her everywhere she goes, and has a fur constantly covered with snow. For Dannious, there is nothing. When Iago asked, Dannious laughed again.

“Son, your eyesight is better than mine – do you see me? I’m a rat! It must be something pretty powerful to let me be chief, eh?” He did not elaborate. Since nobody else questioned it, Iago tried not to as well.

“Welcome back. Joa, send your report to Kiernas, he’ll look it over.”

“Of course, honored Chief” Joa bowed his head and left.

That was who he always delivered his reports to, yet he spoke as if the Chief had proclaimed something unique and genius, not the same task he repeated every day of his life.

“So, Iago, how’d it go? You’re not a poacher now, are you?”

That was the first thing Dannious asked him every time he returned, and it never improved his mood. Little of Dannious’ humor ever did.

“No, I haven’t. Why do you keep asking me that?” Iago shot back, letting his frustration seep out.

Dannious grinned to a joke seemingly nobody else knew. “No reason; just making sure you haven’t gone rogue on us. How did it go?”

“They sent 12, none left alive. 4 were Mages, two of them powerful at that. One of them recognized me again.”

Dannious shrugged as best a rat could, laying on their back staring up. “It happens. You’re a wanted man I’ve heard, in some nations. They rely particularly heavily on the…product our forest offers. Your fame is spreading; I can see it now in the papers, “The Guardian, just a dirty man with a katana.” I’m sure the tabloids will do you better, though.” He wheezed a laugh at the end and patted his stomach with a smile.

Iago shook his head at the description. “Maybe, but it seemed personal. He called me by my name, even.”

“Well of course, what kind of unprepared fool would enter the forest without even thinking there was a chance they’d meet you along the way? They did their research.”

“A lot of good it did them.” Iago grumbled.

A smile tugged at Dannious’ mouth. “Yes, well, I don’t suspect the accuracy of your abilities will ever be very good if the only men who speak of it are being finely roasted over a bed of screaming coals while their conversation takes place.”

The thought of the men he killed suffering again raised Iago’s mood some.

“But Verte died.” Dannious said, almost conversationally.

His mood returned where it was a moment before.

“Yes, she did. They got her before I could get there, and when she started screaming, they…” he ran out of words.

“Stopped the screaming, I assume. A pity, she had a wonderful voice.”

Iago coughed into his hand, “Yeah. That.”

“Aaaaah,” Dannious rolled over onto his stomach and propped himself up with his back against the bark and turned towards Iago, his smile faded.

“You beat yourself up too hard over these things, Iago. They happen, and they always will as long as we’re such an untapped resource for them. You did good work today; there were no other casualties in the forest at large this whole week. Do you know how impressive that is? Even at the height of your Master’s strength, we only managed to stem the bleeding. Trust me; I am the chief of our people. I understand your pain more than anyone.”

Iago hated the way Dannious made him feel, like a child. He knew he was doing good work; it just wasn’t enough. Was he hard on himself? Yes, but how else was he supposed to improve? Would he achieve peace through complacency?

Dannious shook his head. “I see you don’t understand, but this is no time to argue. Go visit your Master, you haven’t seen him in a while. Besides, there’s a council meeting soon. If you leave now, you might be able to dodge a demand from Nubias and the others.”

Iago nodded. Nubias was someone he wanted to avoid at all costs, nowadays. The onyx coyote was acting more and more brazen each passing hour, what with the whispers about hidden meetings he’d been having elsewhere in the forest. Given his frequent critique of Dannious, it was hardly out of character for the coyote. When he’d first heard about it, Iago was worried Nubias might attempt a coup, but most others disagreed. Dannious and Nubias had been this way for decades, and according to the others, if Nubias had never tried even in Dannious’ most vulnerable and fragile days, he never would. There was respect there, even if it was mottled with venomous critique and unrestrained contempt.

Iago exited from the south, in the direction of his Master’s section of the forest. He passed elks, bears, eagles, and more. Some gave him nods of respect, but most cringed away as he passed, so he hurried by faster.

Some of the Awakened still didn’t trust him. That was fine; they would come to learn with time that he was different from the other humans, that he would never hurt them. It still stung, but he couldn’t blame their reactions. They’d spent their entire lives in direct conflict with humans who wanted to strip them for parts or brutalize them in horrific experiments.

Now, one claims to be an ally? Iago would be suspicious too.

The path to his Master’s home was marked by a dirt path through gradually rising grass, until it passed his shoulders, and eventually his head. Bamboo stalks were the only thing to break the surface of the grass, and dozens of creatures could be seen clinging to their stalks, leaping from tree to tree avoiding the predators below. The climate grew hot and dry, and Iago had to loosen his clothing as he began to sweat. Not that it could get much looser, battered as it already was.

His Master’s home was a small clearing in the midst of the grass. Loose dirt covered the ground, with the center of the clearing being dominated by a pond that seemed mostly algae. On the opposite of the pond from where Iago stood was a small canopy of leaves, beneath which was an old, matted rug that once was purple, and now was stained with so much blood and grime that the shade was a unique brown. The grass at the edge of the clearing was in a sawtooth pattern, roughly cut and higher in some places than others.

His master was nowhere to be seen, which meant only one thing. He limbered himself and drew his blade, holding it at an angle to the side at the ready. A rustling in the grass behind him was all the warning he got, and his Master pounced.

A massive white tiger, swirled with black of a mind-bending depth leapt at him, claws and teeth extended in a murderous embrace. A scar ran from his left ear almost all the way until his back left hind leg, inflicted from the only poacher to ever escape him, long ago. He still spoke of the day with bitterness, blaming dirty tricks and cowardice for his prey’s escape.

Iago raised his blade to parry and filled himself with the power his Master had shared with him, granting him physical strength, speed, and grace. He could see it in the rippling patterns on his Master’s fur to know he was using the same, and to face him without would be suicide.

He turned the claws aside as he dipped his neck away from the jaws, driving an elbow at the exposed underside, and earning a grunt in response.

It was the only blow landed for the next few exchanges, neither committing; Iago avoided the onslaught, but was unable to attack before his Master deftly moved out of the way. They were equally matched for strength with the same blood running through their veins, and for a time it appeared to be a stalemate.

Then his Master used the other gift they shared.

The patterns on his fur swirled maddeningly for a moment, and the tiger vanished from existence. Less than a heartbeat later, his jaws were inches from Iago’s neck, and his claws were drawing blood from his shoulder.

He grunted in pain as he rolled out of the way, a burning pain springing up his left arm as the claws still grazed him, enough to bite into his skin.

His master gave him no time to recover, blinking forward and making another attack. Iago was forced to blink himself, sending a punch towards his Master’s exposed back-

A great weight settled on him, and the air was pushed from his lungs. He was left sprawled on the ground heaving for breath, as the giant tiger above him groomed itself, a single claw resting at the base of Iago’s skull. His katana lay just out of reach.

His Master licked the other paw and rubbed it across his face.

“I…can’t…”

A chuff sounded from above Iago. “You can’t what? Breathe? You should have thought of that before you lost the fight. You are weak. How do you expect to protect the whole Forest from probes when you can’t defeat an ageing tiger?”

“We were…sparring…” Iago’s vision began wavering, and his head felt heavy.

The weight removed itself from his back, and his Master padded away to lay beneath his canopy.

“Were we? Did my attacks seem designed to incapacitate?”

Iago shook his head. “They seemed more designed to decapitate.”

The tiger nodded as if that was the first reasonable thing Iago had said since he arrived. “And I would have taken your head from your shoulders were I given the chance. You hold my powers in your veins, wield a fragment of the Ancestral Tree, and you’re still less than a kitten.”

Iago studied the blade he now held again, and not for the first time. The Awakened in the forest spoke of the artifact with reverence, but as far as Iago could tell…it was just a sword. One with deep cultural significance, but it held none of the vast power they seemed to believe it did. Perhaps it required less maintenance than a normal one, and was stronger than usual, but that was all. He still needed to sharpen and polish it; the most impressive thing about it was the filigree.

“You move in predictable ways. Anyone familiar with our powers will defeat you in an instant; when a fool would appear behind, you appear behind. When a kitten would vanish flee to a tree, a tree receives a new companion. You are a puppet tiger, one piloted by an imbecile.”

“How would you suggest I improve, Master Baikyo?” Iago asked. His confidence had already been flattened by the events of the day, but Baikyo wasn’t one for idle words.

“Fight.” The tiger curled to sleep, stiffening, and hissing as his scar scratched the rug.

“Fight?”

One eyelid flopped open to study Iago. “Tigers are born with our instincts and spend our entire lives honing and training them. Humans emerge mewling, and most die mewling. You have no instinct but to roll over and die. Fix it if you wish to live.”

“So, I’m just supposed to wait around until another band of poachers enter the forest? How is that any different than what I usually do?” Iago’s frustrations bled out. He’d come looking for advice, help, or at least training. Instead, he’d been humiliated and told to fix an issue without any path to do so.

“I never said that. Spar against Portho.” The eyelid closed, then opened a moment later. “In fact, as your Master, that’s an order. Assignment. Whatever. No skimping out to fight Joa either.”

Iago’s concerns rose. “I’m sure you’re aware, but Portho and I don’t see eye to eye. In a spar, the odds of him killing me are even higher than you.”

A Cheshire grin spread across Baikyo’s face, revealing fading red stained fangs. “Yes, they are. I’ll have to work on that. Do you want instincts? Fake danger and weak opponents will do nothing for you; only the strongest will push you enough. Or maybe I just finally want you gone.” The massive cat made a sound that could have been a laugh, and moments later snored loud enough to startle close rodents out of the underbrush. As soon as they were revealed, a group of hawks swept down, picking off all but one. It happened in less than three seconds.

Iago turned around and started walking back in the direction he came, preparing himself to fight for his life for the third time in an hour. Sometimes he thought that he could feel laughter at his misfortune reverberating through the roots at his feet, the Forest itself amused at his predicament.