The Guardian
Hastiin observed the Iina tree as the calm wind ruffled the leaves that lay upon his shoulders. He trailed every one of its thick roots that seemed to form some sort of complicated network, all the way up to its large and thick trunk. The smell of dirt mixed in with faint bark lingered around him, reminding him how lonely he is. No human had set foot anywhere near the Iina tree or his territory as far as he could remember.
When he was born, he was often told by his father about the many myths and legends but the one that seemed the most important was the one about the Iina tree. Back then, he did not realise he would be chosen by the great yellow wolf, Odakota the protector of the forest, to be the guardian of the great tree.
Remembering back to when he was a drooling toddler, with flushed pink cheeks often getting told off by his mother to stop eating so much, amused him and Hastiin could feel a small grin playing upon his lips. He walked around the tree, and poked its limbs with the butt of his spear, the hollow sound reminded him of the drums that his tribe used to play on special occasions. How he wished he could be back there again, laughing and dancing around the golden bonfire with war paint that depicted their spirit animals.
Hastiin could vaguely remember when it was time for his ceremony. It was the night where his spirit animal was revealed to him. He was no more than five years old. His father would tell him that knowing your spirit animal was important for one’s future, it would predict how the child would turn out, it would predict the man he would turn out to be. Hastiin knew he did not want the spirit animal of the fierce lion or the grey mouse. He didn’t want to become a man that the whole tribe feared or the man who was laughed at because of his cowardice. The anticipation was unbearable as he paced, trembling under his fur cloak as the tribe prepared for the night.
His father held his small hand as he led him to the holy man, the seer of spirits. Hastiin could not recognise his soft tender old face, behind the large skeleton that he wore on its head. It had a large pointed snout, with holes where the nostrils and eyes should be. Hastiin was sure he could make out the holy man’s caring eyes behind the monster, which helped him calm down. The curled horns glistened in the fire that seemed almost like ash. The usual golden colour was darkened and had a tint of a much darker red, giving the atmosphere an eerie feeling.
Hastiin looked up at his father and gave his hand a small squeeze. His father responded with a warming smile, which made the corner of his eyes crinkle a bit. Hastiin was afraid when his father let his hand go and shoved him towards the man hidden inside the monster. He gulped and took the monster’s hand, its carved mouth seemed to giving him a sinister smile which made Hastiin shiver. The moster signalled that it was time to be seated and for the ceremony to begin.
A chant erupted from inside the monster and it echoed within its confined skull before escaping out into the open to be heard by Hastiin and the other members of his tribe. His chanting got louder and louder, as if he was practicing some spell. The monster waved his arms in the air, as if he was calling the almighty spirit himself to Earth and it caused the flames to rise even higher. As his voice slowly faded and died, the flames also seem to mimic him and returned to its normal state.
The holy man’s young helper handed him a bowl which was full of clear liquid which Hastiin could not quite make out. He could see the reflection of the stars and the moon as the monster placed it in front of him. His deep voice ordered Hastiin to place his small hand over the bowl, as he did so, the monster grasped it in his strong hand. Hastiin shuddered but he dared not pull away.
In his other, a blade seemed to appear. It looked like the arrowhead on one of Hastiin’s father’s spears. Hastiin was always wanting to touch them but he was often scolded and learnt that it was not a toy for small children. The monster brought it above Hastiin’s hand and chanted almost like a prayer before he turned his hand over to reveal Hastiin’s pure palm. With a flash the monster struck his palm, leaving a nasty scar with blood erupting out of it. The monster forcibly closed his palm and let the crimson liquid drop into the clear, making swirling shapes. Hastiin was surprised that it didn’t hurt instead he watched the bowl intently, just as the monster did.
The monster cleared his throat before he spoke, “Hastiin, son of Dohate bears the spirit animal of the bear. He will be the protector and also the provider of his family.”
Hastiin was not expecting his spirit animal to be the bear. The bear was always a rare spirit animal he had been told, and one of great honour. The two important qualities that any man should ever hold was Hastiin’s future, and he was glad.
Now looking back at the fleshy pink scar that ran across his hand, Hastiin realised what his destiny was. It was not a family he had to look after and protect, it was the Iina tree, and it was his family. It was all he had.
A rustling in the nearby bushes pulled him out of his reminiscing of the past and he averted his gaze to the moving shrubbery. He poised his spear high, ready to attack what may be emerging to attack him.
A flash of yellow bounded across the dimly lit grass and Hastiin followed it, moving his body to face where the creature had disappeared into the forest. He panted loudly, which seemed to stop mid-way when he heard a guttural growl behind him. Hastiin swiftly turned on his heel to face the creature.
Staring back at him was a two orbs of gold, just above an elegant snout and black nose. It lifted the sides of its muzzle to bare bone white fangs, which had been sharpened to kill. It’s golden coat, the colour of the sun, swayed in the gentle breeze as it stood up in defence.
Hastiin himself crouched in a defence position, his spear hoisted above his head. “Great wolf, do not attack, for I am a humble servant of the spirits.”
In response it’s growl became even deeper. It placed its forepaw in front, as if it could pounce any minute. Instead it walked up to Hastiin slowly as its mouth closed and it composed a serene face. It licked its jowl and sat in front of Hastiin as if it was a dog begging for a treat.
Hastiin lowered his spear and put out his scarred hand to pat the wolf. It growled as his rough hand laid on its head and Hastiin pulled away immediately. For a moment, the wolf just stared Hastiin in the eyes, it seemed to send some sort of message, but he wasn’t sure what it was.
A voice arose in Hastiin’s mind, Hastiin you are a great man. You have guarded the Iina tree with your life, you have protected it and provided for it. The spirits were wise to gift you with the spirit of the bear. It is unfair that you must spend eternity in solitude but remember the spirits of the Earth are grateful and look upon you with admiration.
As the voice dissipated the wolf stood up and bolted from right under his hand while Hastiin was still dazed and confused from what just had happened. He looked down at his scarred palm, the mark staring back at him. He didn’t see where the wolf went but he knew who he was and why he had come.
Thank you, Odakota.
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