Investigating the forest clearing, Araion turned up clear signs of habitation.

Amidst the sea of wildflowers, there was a patch of dirt that looked freshly turned; when Araion dug it up, he found neat stacks of bones, picked clean of their meat, showing no signs of the damage that teeth or claws would leave behind.

The vegetables—not all native to the forests of Astorea—grew in unnatural rows, evenly spaced from one another.

On one side of the massive Warden Tree, he could feel out shallow gouges in the bark, struck through like tally marks. They began from the tree's tangled roots and trailed off only when they reached the first knot of branches.

All these signs, and yet there were others sorely lacking. There was no trace of any campfire either for warmth or to cook with. No constructed shelter of any sort, leaving any occupants of the clearing exposed to the chilly nights and bitter rain.

When the guildmaster had handed him and his partner their assignment—gathering intelligence regarding what remained of Vintergard and whether reoccupation was a possibility—Araion had been honored. For a pair of novice members to the guild to be given such an assignment? Even if it was only reconnaissance, which Henryk had predictably protested, it was a great responsibility and a sign of trust in their abilities.

And then Zeus had handed him a letter as well, to be delivered to the Warden of the Forest. And just like that, all of Araion's goodwill vanished. The Warden was, according to every senior adventurer registered at Finweald's Adventurers Guild, an ally of the guild. Powerful. Benevolent. She was the stalwart defender of the Astorean woods, and provided food, shelter, and safety to adventurers who sheltered within her grove.

She had also never been seen in person. Ever. For over two years. No one had any idea what she looked like. Was she human, elven, faerin, a beastfolk? Nobody knew. Tales of her past exploits seemed to blend the fanciful and the mythic: she had lived through the siege of what was once Adecus Forest, fighting on the side of the humans against the Yladians; she had defied death not just once, not even just thrice, but four times; she was always in the company of a fearsome lion spirit. The stories were as endless as they were unbelievable.

From this all, Araion could only draw one conclusion: he was being hazed.

And, yet. He ran his fingers over the marked bark of the Warden Tree, thinking. The pure white horse that appeared to live in the clearing nudged his outstretched arm with a whinny. There were a number of animals milling about the glade, all of whom seemed too well-groomed and incurious about people to be wholly wild. Another point of evidence in favor of the Warden truly existing.

Then there was this tree. It truly was titanic, surging into the air such that its multicolored leaves were visible all the way from Finweald. Every branch was a different sort of wood and bore a different fruit, all perfectly edible, with a few that he suspected of having healing properties. The tree was as fantastic as the gargantuan humanoid silhouette that stood amid the ruins of Vintergard.

There was magic at foot here, though as Araion pressed his bare palm to the trunk to try and feel out the tree's emotions, he could feel only gentle contentment, much the same as any other tree in any other forest. He had expected something grander, like the now-silent Father Tree that once connected all Yladians.

Henryk walked over to him, giving the horse a welcoming pat on the neck. "Whatcha thinking about there?"

"Nothing," said Araion. He looked at the still-sealed letter in Henryk's bandaged hand. It had gotten crumpled in the chaos as Araion and Henryk had fled the strange structures around Vintergard and the beams of cutting light the metallic pillars had shot at them. "What should we do with the letter?"

"Well, we're here to deliver it, ain't we?" Henryk scratched the back of his head right beneath one of his rabbit-like ears, the less singed one. He didn't look like he was in that bad shape, even after taking a blast directly to the back of the head from what Araion assumed was a defense mechanism set up around Vintergard. He was certainly more healed than a single night's rest should have left him. Araion squinted suspiciously at the tree again. "Should we just leave it on the ground?"

Now that Araion was satisfied that the Warden's existence was perhaps not entirely a joke, he loathed the idea of leaving a task sloppily done. "Absolutely not," he said. "We should find somewhere secure to leave it."

Henryk cast an arm around the clearing. "You see anywhere secure? Not like there's a mailbox around here. Should we hand it over to the horse? Here horsie, do you want this letter? You'll give it to your owner for us, right?" The horse began to nibble at the envelope. "Hey! No! This is not for eating!"

Araion sighed. He sighed one more time, just because he felt it was warranted in this situation. Then he took the letter from Henryk and looked around the clearing himself. A pair of hounds napping in the sun, the implication of birds from the rustling of branches overhead, a young bear cub stumbling through a bush of orange berries. Cute, but not very helpful.

Just as he was contemplating just carving a hole right into the tree's trunk to serve as a mail slot, a growl by his feet caught his attention, followed by the sensation of something tugging at his pants. He glanced down, and then had to jump back in surprise. It was a badger. A badger infected with Zalrisis. It growled when he met its eyes, and waved its green crystal claws at him.

"Whoa, whoa!" Henryk hurried over to Araion's side, sword brandished and already glowing with fiery magic. "Whoa," he said again, upon seeing the ruby-striped badger. "That's weird. Do we... do we smash it?"

It didn't make any aggressive moves, though. It just made the same waving motion again and again. It growled occasionally, but did not attempt to attack him. Observing the badger's movements more closely, it looked like the badger was focused on only his left side... the side holding the letter.

Araion raised the hand holding the letter. The badger growled, loudly. He lowered it slightly. The badger resumed its waving motions more frantically than before.

"You want this?" he tried, crouching down to hand off the letter to the badger. It began to leap into the air, making grabbing motions at the letter. "I suppose you do."

He let the badger have the envelope, and it immediately scampered away to a burrow beneath the tangled tree roots. Araion and Henryk watched it go.

"So, mission accomplished?" Henryk wondered aloud. Araion did not bother to respond. He stowed his sword again. "Hey, do you think that was the Warden? You think anyone will believe us if we say we met her? We could totally prank everyone back at the guild. We'll tell everyone we met with the Warden, she has a wild side and... garnet eyes." He snickered to himself, then paused. "Garnets are the red gems, right? Or should we just say ruby? Rubies are boring, though."

This fool. Araion snagged him by the back of his collar and began to drag him off. "Come on. We need to get back to report to the guild. They'll want to know about the defenses set up near the old capital."

Henryk twitched his long ears wildly, almost smacking Araion in the face. "Oh, come on!" the rabbit beastfolk whined. "At least let me grab some of those star-shaped fruits to bring back! They're to die for!"

"No."

"I'll pick some of those hairy fruits too! The red ones! Don't think I didn't see you scarfing those down last night!"

Araion stopped marching. He released Henryk's collar, and turned around, glaring. "No, you didn't," he said. When Henryk opened his mouth, he repeated, "You saw nothing. But... Anything you want to bring back fits in your own pack. I'm not carrying any back with me."

Henryk pumped his fist. "Yessss, you're the best, Rai!" he called over his shoulder, making for the starfruit trees.

Soon enough, the departing footsteps of the pair of fruit-laden adventurers were no longer audible, their figures long-lost among the flora. Ashiore waited a few minutes more to make sure, then slunk out of the cover of the leafy branches of the Warden Tree. She was careful to hit the dirt gently, but she could still feel the bones in her paws rattle at the impact.

Her horse was ever friendly, even though she was in the form of a predator. Shifting back to her (arguably) human form, she conjured up a small patch of clovers for Tianma to graze on.

That settled, she had some business with her badger. Once upon a time, it had been a minipet. Now, it was just a pet. She knelt down in the grass and coaxed it from its burrow, giving it a pat on the head.

"Thank you," she whispered, taking the letter from the badger's covetous paws.

One finger shifted into a sharp claw as she sliced open the envelope from the less-chewed corner. The handwriting was familiar, but Ashiore could not recall which one of her few remaining acquaintances it belonged to.

Hey zombie girl! Long time no see! I dunno how things are in the forest and all but I hope everything's ok!

The letter continued on for another two pages, but abruptly Ashiore found that she could not bring herself to read the rest, not yet. She folded it back up and molded a hole into the trunk of the Warden Tree, storing the letter within and sealing it smoothly behind her. Shifting again into her lion form, she climbed up the tree again, settling back into a comfortable intersection of branches. She had stayed up all night watching over the adventurers as they slept, and her body was reminding her that she needed rest as well.

Curling up into as small of a ball she could manage, Ashiore slept. Mercifully, she did not dream of home. In fact, she rarely dreamed at all, and if she did, she was thankful that she did not remember them.