Let Down Your Guard (L.D.Y.G.) - Chapter 1
(3000 words)

In This Chapter...

-Violence
-Blood

Description:
War has been a staple of existence between the canine races of Petria and Volcania since the dawn of time. Territory disputes are constant between the stubborn ground-dwelling Petrians of the valley and winged Volcani of the cliffs.

A border guard on the outskirts of Petria's soil apprehends a Volcani scout in the woodlands and is forced to restrain her in his abode. Despite his stoic and stubborn demeanor, the young winged female entrances him, and fills a deep lonely void that plagued his life. The Volcani scout, though flightless from an injury she sustained from their bout in the woodlands, finds solace and comfort in her captor.

The two of them must navigate their race's prejudice towards one another, the growing relationship they have, and the juxtaposition love causes to the loyalty of their respective nations.

A fantasy from its exterior and a romance at its core, Let Down Your Guard is a journey of young love, prejudice, and war.

☆☆☆

Chapter 1

The town of Everwood was centered on a square clamorous with flowers and marketplace shacks. The shadows of the town’s homes and structures were stretched thin as the morning sun peaked over the eastward mountains and blanketed light over the valley. The humble little town glistened with welcoming hues and basked in new sun. Homes, businesses, and communal buildings huddled together in harmony, all in contrast to a single house on the edge that stubbornly perched upon a hill with its back turned.

The house stood in defiant contrast to the buildings and banners below, donning ominous hues of gray, brown, and green. This lone structure had a presence and blended in all the same. The backdrop of the eastern woods often overtook took it. In the afternoon and evenings, it could pass as another dense oak, with its darkened walls and mossy roof.

There was only one way up the hill to the lonely house; it was a stone road that turned into a gravel path that led into a dirt trail. The lone tenant of the house appeared on this winding path. The shadow of a young wolf standing tall appeared in the new light, combining his presence with that of his home.

His shadow was outlined by silver armor that showed its wear through the dents and chips the morning light highlighted. Tired leather straps held everything together and large saddle packs gave his dense core further girth. Pointed ears poked out of his helmet and caught the early breeze.

The amalgamation of dense fur, leather, and metal made haste down the hill and to his station.

“Good morning, Zale,” the Farmer’s son said in passing. He had a cart full of fresh produce in tow. The young wolf marched by him with a rhythmic clank to his armor. The farmer’s son didn’t double-take or react. Zale showed no sign of acknowledgment.

It took a Petrian of fair size to pull a cart full of a market stall worth of farm goods, yet the cart puller’s size paled compared to the mighty Zale. With his broad frame and density, he could haul two carts, if not more.

His purpose wasn’t to haul the farms delights through the wood and to the marketplace, nor was it to take part in the hustle and bustle of Everwood. Zale’s post lie in the depths of the border wood. He was no plight nor a bothersome presence in the town; he was an ignored necessity.

Zale was the assigned border guard of Everwood. Their humble town, located in northern Petria, was separated only by the border wood and a deep river. Zale was the first obstacle that stood between the peaceful townsfolk and Volcani invasion.

The young soldier was keenly aware and well trained in anticipation for the enemy. He carried out his purpose alone. The Volcani hadn’t dared cross the border in well over a decade, outside the occasional opportunistic raider or lurking scout. As long as this was the case, Zale would remain the only soldier on the northeastern border.

Zale continued marching down the soft dirt path that snaked its way into the wood. The flora would grow denser with each passing step. Elms, oaks, and pines replaced buildings and civilization. Weeds and bushes lurked in the underbrush while the trees reached for the autumn sky and danced in its breath. Instead of waking Petrians, it was waking fauna; birds chimed their morning tunes, rodents leaped through the weeds, and predators lurked close behind them.

With each stride forward Everwood became a distant sight; it was as if the weight of the world was leaving Zale’s shoulders.

His head let go of its pride. His shoulders slumped and gave way to the heaviness of his armor. He’d eventually correct his course off the dirt trail and deeper into the wood, approaching a lone pond.

The young wolf lowered his head and lapped at the waters that kissed the sandy shores. In his peripheral, across the lake, stood long slender bodies dipping their heads down as he was. Zale inched his head upwards but remained low. He gazed upward at the sight before him.

Deer were lapping at the water and feeding on the foliage. Zale shared the space with them. They were aware he was there, yet they felt safe. They did not run nor acknowledge the enormous wolf at the opposite end. Zale took notice of the does, one of which had a swollen mid-section. He smiled in contentment to see that a fawn stood next to her, mirroring her motions, lapping at the water as she was.

The forest embraced Zale, and he embraced the forest. Letting down his guard could be seen as dangerous; maybe it could be considered offensive to his duty and post. Yet, the committed guards' connection with the wood was his advantage. There was knowledge of what was, what needed to be, what wasn’t. Zale knew the layout like the deer that roamed it, he could scan the canopy as if he had a bird's-eye view.

Time was set aside to admire the motherly embrace of nature. This was made up tenfold with tedious patrols weaving side-to-side on the path and off of it. Within the daylight hours he’d make haste to the northern edge of the border wood to the south. This was a routine cemented into his psyche; time rarely escaped him, though it eventually it began to pass.

***

The sun arched the horizon and was settling at its peak. Midday. A meal would rejuvenate the young guard and give him the strength to wander into the afternoon hours.

Zale took the main path back to Everwood, but a crack of a branch alerted him and stopped him in his tracks. His head shot upwards. The wood could be both turbulent and silent at the same time. He knew which noises belonged, which did not. Scents touched his nose and strung a path through the trunks.

The tip of his nose twitched. His head scanned the canopy. Zale rotated his ears. All the while, the border wood remained lively, the regular residents continued on their business. Yet, it seemed there was new life brought into the fold, a presence only the wolf guard seemed to recognize.

The young guard continued to scan his surroundings. He walked forward slowly and followed the string of scents. They became more apparent. His ears tried to recognize what was unheard. They made themselves less subtle.

Zale burst into a trot; his armor bounced into motion with him. His nose showed the course, and his ears produced quick adjustments. The young guard veered off the path and into the thick of the woods with his instincts and intuition sharp. Something hid in the atmosphere that only his training could gather. Distinct tones and motions disturbed the balance.

Soon he increased the pace. His trot turned into a gallop. This much fur, leather, and metal shifting into motion exerted tremendous energy, but conditioning and discipline lightened the load.

Zale was determined chasing the trail of this disturbance. Added to the ordinary sounds of the forest was the wolf’s haste and the cracking of branches above. Zale’s head concentrated upwards while his body evaded trees and brush. Up above, the limbs of the birches, oaks, and evergreens bounced opposite to the winds.

The trail of the wolf was irregular. He made sharp turns as he tracked the scent and trail. Soon he’d reach a clearance. Zale drew sharp breaths, but this didn’t deter him from jerking his view frantically. His gallop skid to a standstill. Within moments, he was wholly still. Tranquil silence settled over the wood yet again.

Zale’s broad silhouette stood in the center of an opening with low grasses and a few bushes spread within.

A flimsy snap of a limb had Zale whip his neck around to the source. Another silhouette occupied the opening, this one high in the trees. It was a similar four-legged creature to him, but this one was more petite, agile, and elusive. It emitted strange foreign and unnatural scents.

The shadow of the figure peered back at him but broke the silence by opening the immense wings on its rear and performing a glide to the next tree over.

Zale puffed heated air from his nostrils. It was a Volcani. The wolf broke into another gallop. He picked up momentum and began panting as the shadow made simple work of tree hopping. It skillfully formed its path in the canopy as the guard raked through the undergrowth. Meters of elevation divided them, but Zale chased down every tree the figure jumped to.

The chase concluded when the creature above made an error. One of its feathered wings struck with a solid branch, forcing the figure to weakly flap to and settle on an oak that laid at the center of yet another opening. Zale’s gallop came to a grinding stop, his paws drifted through thin mud before his momentum ceased at the base of the oak.

He panted and attempted to catch his breath. His gaze peered upwards in frustration.

“I have to say, you’re a stubborn Pet. The brush would have tripped most. But you- you just don’t give in, do you?”

Zale cleared his throat to speak, but stayed mute. His thoughts raced with what he was going to do with the scout that exposed itself to be the shadowy figure he had been tracking. He couldn’t fly, nor could he climb. He needed to act soon before it opened its wings and made an escape.

She gawked at him; a female from the manners of her frame. The scout perched on the greatest offshoot of the young oak. It seemed she had winded herself, but was seizing the opportunity of Zale’s hesitation to regain her strength.

Like the woods he commanded, she stood in stark contrast to him. Much lighter in both density and presence. Blondes and creams distinguished her coat with slight hints of brown in places like her ears and tips of her wings. She bore the trademark golden armor of a Volcani ranger, obvious from the Pegasus vigil adorning her chest piece and wing ornaments protruding from her helmet.

This was a change of events not typical to the average day, but Zale was trained and prepared. He took a few steps back.

“If you’re going to call your friends-” she sat on the branch while she caught her breath,

“-I’ll be long gone before you make it back, Pet.”

Zale continued moving backward. He gave the illusion that he was moving to turn tail.

The Volcani scout scoffed as she stood and opened her wings. But as soon as her gaze had left him, Zale charged the tree.

He bashed his head and helmet into the trunk. He transferred the absolute force of his power and momentum into the base of the young oak. It had the desired effect of stunning the scout and heaving her off the massive branch.

Quickly, her body came tumbling down into the brush. Zale seized the opportunity with a wide maw and a war cry.

The she-wolf was hurried to her feet and to a defensive position quicker than the young guard could have assumed. A blade was hurled from her saddle and into his side. Zale displayed no hint of letting up. The Volcani scout opened her maw and flashed her fangs. In response, he smashed his head into her side in brute fashion to return her to the mud.
The young female lay on her back, but did not hesitate to return to her paws despite the mighty blow. Zale wouldn’t allow it. He seized the opportunity of her disadvantage and positioned himself over her.

She thrashed, tore, ripped, and fought with all her might to stop her large combatant. The she-wolf smacked his muzzle with her paws when he brought his head down, snarled, spit in his face, and sliced at his armored chest with pointed gauntlets.

Ultimately, she resorted to using her wings. He struggled to subdue the wild, vicious, and desperate scout. Her wings brought even more chaos to the bout.

This stunt lost her the battle. Moments after her wings opened and flailed, Zale came down on them with the tremendous might of his front paws. Immense force came crushing down on the delicate feathers and hallow bones. He had pinned her down at the base of her wings. The Volcani scout let out an agonizing howl when she felt the joint of her right wing dislocate.

Zale’s breathing was labored, but he recognized he had won. Blood dripped down from his pierced side, wetting his enemy with crimson. Humiliation washed over the the female combatant.

Disgrace was something she wished to return in full. The she-wolf’s face was full of resentment and determination. She grappled under his weight, shifting her hips. The guard smirked at her attempts.

The Volcani scout glared into blue eyes that mirrored her own, returning the smile with a savage grin. She swiftly lifted her back paw and forcefully kicked Zale in the sacred region between his back legs. It was one of the few places that lacked armor on the brute.

Zale’s face contorted with agony, yet he did not give in. His chest dropped to her own as he grimaced and whimpered. She was kept pinned by his overwhelming weight.

Even with the beast subdued, escape was a futile effort in her current state. Mild wounds covered her body and oozed blood. The adrenaline drained from her veins and the dull ache of her separated joint made itself apparent. Each pulse reverberated up and down her spine with growing pain. The Volcani’s gasps became sporadic. Her head fell to the side and settled defeated in the shallow mud.

The proud victor regained the strength to raise himself and stand tall above the weak scout. He was confident that without her primary method of escape that he had her apprehended.

Zale chuffed. His adrenaline ignited a burning anger exasperated by the thrill of winning this brief bout. “Have any funny quips, Vole? Have something witty to say, huh?”

“Oh, fuck you,” she said with a twist of her head. She spat blood at him between her strained breaths, but it failed to reach him. “Stop toying with me. Just finish the job.”

“You’re a scout.” Zale looked beside him at the wound that had made itself apparent. It was a piercing wound made from her knife that he’d address when he returned to his abode at the edge of the wood.

He glanced down at her in disgust and went on, “I don’t want your life. I need information. What you’ve seen, what you’ve heard, and what you’re doing on our land. After that, I’ll decide your fate.”

She scoffed.

“Go ahead, make it difficult. I’ll get what I want all the same.”

***
It took time to disarm the Volcani because of the tedious task telepathy was. Telepathy was magic that made up for the shortcoming of paws, yet it took immense concentration that reflected on Zale’s face. His muzzle traced pathways in the air and the leather straps of the scouts armor followed suit. One by one, each piece of metal returned to the Earth and settled into the mud.

The inside of her chest piece crossed Zale’s vision. It bore a distinct mark, “Cirrus.”

Zale rummaged through his saddle pouch via his magic. It was a matter of sound when sorting through objects. He listened for the jangle of chains. A restraining device appeared floating out of his bag. Simple in design, it was a collar and chain. It found its way to the scout’s neck before securely fixing itself. The chain fastened to Zale’s saddle like a lead to a post.

The scout went limp, allowing this to take place. Escape was futile without use of her wings.

A jerk of his midsection jolted the motionless frame of the she-wolf. She laid in the muck with her wings still extended. She did nothing but exhale heavily, lying upon her back, and staring hopelessly into the sky. The wounded scout wondered how long it’d be before she could return to its free embrace.

“Play games and it’ll be your other wing,” huffed Zale with another yank of the chain. It jostled the lead.

The scout sighed and weakly moved her paws beneath her. She rose from the ground.

Her defeated head laid low, turning toward her captor, and glaring with indignation. One wing came back to her side, the other dragged in the earth below. Its previously majestic feathers slumped in gloom and disheveled awkwardness.

The she-wolf limped forward to lessen the tension in the chain; Zale marched forward, snapping it tight again as she was led back to the path. The two of them had a mile trek back to Everwood. Again, the scout peered upwards at the tranquil stillness and painted tones of the autumn sky. She watched a hawk circling above with envy.

It was a sudden turn of events that left Zale admittedly startled. The usual morning embracing the border wood was tampered with. His duty and post always came before a tranquil hike.

It wasn’t the first time the Volcani had invaded the border wood, nor would it be the last. Zale was glad he was prepared. What he wasn’t prepared for was a capture. This Volcani scout certainly added an interesting variable to his afternoon.

Zale pondered as to what the next step would be; what fate awaited this mysterious scout. It was all in his control now.