A/N: Finally, the sequel to my story "The Golden" is complete! Hooray! Wait... Nobody cares but me? Oh... well... *tear*
Originally I had planned to post this entire story as one long chapter, but it was just getting too long and I decided to try to split it up into 2 or maaybe 3 chapters. I still have a little more writing to do at the end. Let me know what you think. Are the chapters split in ok places? Does it make sense? And all that good stuff. I'll post the second chapter on Thursday, just to add a little suspense ;)
Remember to please R&R, even if you hate it!
The Guardian
A copper-brown she-wolf gazed out at a warm sunrise, watching as one by one, the glittering stars faded into a new day. The sky was a palette of blues, pinks, and light yellows, colors of joy and serenity. The first few rays of light that escaped from the horizon brushed upon the wolf's honey-brown fur, giving the long, sleek hairs a golden sheen.
The she-wolf turned an ear back at the sound of heavy hoof steps, but kept her light brown eyes to the birth of the new sun. At the newcomer's approach, the she-wolf could feel the grassy knoll beneath her paws gently shake.
"Ryhenna." The voice, deep and booming, was like the crashing of ocean waves.
The she-wolf turned her head and smiled using the corners of her mouth. Unlike the others she lived with, Ryhenna did not use teeth to smile. For in the way of the wolf, the showing of fangs is considered a challenge or a threat. And though she no longer lived with her lupine kin, Ryhenna continued to heed this custom. "Astrum." She nodded, golden eyes light and friendly.
The resounding voice belonged to a large, blue-roan centaur with gray hooves the size of plates and hands big and strong enough to crush melons. His wild black hair grew mane-like from his head and down the length of his human back. A thick, black tail whisked across steel-grey flanks, and black socks ran up all four of his well-muscled legs. Dark eyebrows furrowed over intelligent eyes; giving the centaur a stern "no-nonsense" expression. "You are needed at the recovery tent. A new group has arrived."
Ryhenna nodded gravely, turning away from the centaur. "Thank you, dear friend." Without another glance, she turned and loped quickly down the hill. The sound of the self-created wind whirled about her ears, mixing with the soft pat of rough paws hitting the grassy surface.
Two years ago Ryhenna had lived as an outcast, unwanted from both the followers of Aslan and the White Witch. But through the help of Tumnus the faun and the four Majesties of Narnia, the she-wolf now lived her life an honored Narnian. Indeed, it had taken time for the she-wolf to be treated as a "true" Narnian by all. However, most fears were quelled when she became a revered herbalist and healer; proving her loyalty to Narnia and the Great Lion many times over.
And as fate would have it, Ryhenna was needed more than ever. The four human rulers, Kings Peter and Edmund and Queens Susan and Lucy, had waged war upon the barbarous giants to the east. Now the she-wolf had hardly any free time to herself between saving lives and healing wounds. Though Ryhenna found great joy in helping others, there seemed to be no end to the tide of the wounded. Because of this, she was eternally grateful for Queen Lucy's help. They had developed a "healing routine", where young Lucy used her potion on the dying and mortally wounded, while Ryhenna helped them to get back on their feet. This teamwork had created a friendship between the two; however Ryhenna was not quite as close to the young Queen as was Tumnus the faun.
The silhouettes of peaked tent tops came into view. There were multiple large tents where those wounded in battle stayed to heal and rest. But because there wasn't enough room for every injured Narnian, the most extreme of the wounded were brought inside the tents, while those no longer facing any danger were placed in the shade outside.
As Ryhenna slowed to a quick trot, she discovered that four or five of the wounded were resting outside the tent, while a young male faun busily treated a squawking gryphon. As the she-wolf neared, the gryphon's irritated screeches became more apparent.
"Ouch! That stings! Don't you have anything that- AUCH!" The faun jumped back when the gryphon snapped angrily. The irritated gryphon caught sight of Ryhenna and griped, "Oh good. The true healer is finally here."
She smiled politely at the gryphon, but calmly turned to the embarrassed faun. "Cal, why don't you gather some plantain leaves from my stock. They'll help relieve the burning pain and get rid of any infection." The faun looked relieved and immediately sprinted to Ryhenna's smaller healer's tent.
Ryhenna sat down by the hissing gryphon and carefully studied his scaly front feet. The right one was covered in minor burns and the left one was covered in cuts, all superficial. She spoke in a conversational tone to the gryphon while waiting for Cal to return and for the gryphon's temper to cool. By talking to the gryphon, she learned his name was Arrow which Never Falls, or simply Arrow. Ironically, Arrow had been struck out of the sky by a burning tree used by one of the giants as a weapon.
"I was lucky to have survived the fall," he trilled proudly, "nearly burnt all the feathers off my wings, that brute did."
The copper she-wolf noted a few singed and displaced feathers here and there, but didn't correct the gryphon. Ryhenna was used to the wounded making up tall tales to impress their healers; it was a harmless and rather entertaining way to better know and understand her patients.
When Cal returned, Ryhenna instructed him on applying the herbs and bandages on the wounds. After he completed the job the she-wolf praised, "Wonderful Cal! You shall be a fine healer in no time at all."
The young faun grinned shyly. Cal was only twelve years old, thin with gangly limbs, dark curly hair, and shockingly bright blue eyes. He had become an apprentice of Ryhenna's after his mother died of an unknown disease and his father joined the war against the giants. The young faun was of great help to Ryhenna with his long, nimble fingers. For a while, the copper wolf envied Cal's ability to tie knots and carefully apply bandages. Being without hands and fingers greatly hindered Ryhenna's own healing abilities, but she realized that holding a grudge against Cal for something he had been born with was foolishness. After all, had she herself not lived in misery because of her own father's actions?
The pair moved on to more of the wounded with the copper she-wolf teaching young Cal while she healed. Cal was a fast learner, and his nimble human-like fingers were invaluable when Ryhenna needed something to be done with great care. But she noticed her apprentice quickly glancing over the faces of the warriors hurt in battle. The she-wolf knew he was looking to see if his father was among the injured. The small faun did this every time they walked into the healing tents. Ryhenna couldn't tell if he was hoping to see his father had not been hurt, or that his father had indeed been wounded and unable to return to battle.
After the two finished up with the rest of the injured, they silently walked to the healers' tent. Both wolf and faun were silent; the teacher and her student knew that the other did not need to engage in conversation to feel comfortable. They took a well-deserved break under the warm mid-day sun. Ryhenna lay on her belly with her chin resting on both front paws and Cal leaned against his teacher's flank.
Not too far away a band of fauns who looked to be around Cal's age was play-fighting with sticks. The she-wolf watched them run and jump amongst each other, her ears twitching at their yelling and the clacking of their sticks. After a few moments of observation, Ryhenna asked of her student, "Wouldn't you rather join them than sit here with your dull teacher?"
Cal stared at his cloven hooves and murmured, "You're not dull." He pretended to be extremely interested in weaving a blade of grass between his nimble fingers, avoiding Ryhenna's gaze. He remained silent until one particularly loud faun roared like a wounded banshee, followed by the groups' raucous laughter. His bright blue eyes flickered up and watched for a second before stating, "I don't see the point in making war a game."
"That's wise of you." The young faun seemed to blush and went back to fiddling with his blade of grass. Ryhenna studied him a second more before retreating into her memories.
Cal had always been somewhat of an old soul. The she-wolf assumed he got it from his late mother, because his father was the complete opposite: a faun who seemed larger than he really was due to his hot-head attitude and over willingness to use brawn instead of brains in most situations. She recalled first meeting Cal's father a month after the young faun began training as a healer…
Ryhenna had been making her way back to the healers' tent when sounds of an argument rose from behind a nearby bush. The she-wolf would have continued on her way, for it was really none of her business, until the voice of her shy apprentice caught her sensitive ears.
"This is what I want! I'm not like the others, I don't want to hurt people!"
"Becoming a warrior is an honorable practice! I will not have you fooling around with weeds, being some naïve healer and bringing dishonor to our family name! I will not have the other warriors laugh behind my back because my only son has gone soft!"
Ryhenna's ears lay flat against her skull; was this really how some Narnians viewed the healing practice? Deciding that she'd heard enough, the copper she-wolf stepped around the brush and made herself known to the quarreling fauns. "Because healers do naught but braid flowers into each other's fur, aye?"
The adult male froze mid-speech, and Cal looked embarrassed for his father. Before either could speak, Ryhenna continued with what she wanted to say. "My kin also called me soft. They would punish me every chance they had and discovered a game in calling me shameful, an insult to our "proud" family lineage." She snorted. "I believe you know what kind of people were a part of that family tree?" Ryhenna knew the answer was "yes" when the older faun stiffened. Angrily, she continued, "The art of healing is noble. To call a healer naïve and foolish is a mistake. For while you are honorably out on the battlefield killing your enemies, your son will be one of those who do their best to clean up the mess."
Cal's father glared at the she-wolf, his nostrils flaring. "Are you suggesting that the High King Peter is wrong for battling the Giants?"
Ryhenna forced the hair to remain flat upon her neck. "Of course not. The noble Kings and Queens of Narnia did all they could to negotiate with the Giants in the East. What I would like to know, faun, is if you are fighting for Narnia or for glory." The copper she-wolf then furiously turned away and stalked back to the healers' tent…
The incident still made her blood boil. But apparently it had worked, because she never heard of Cal's father disagreeing with his choice ever since. Speaking of the young faun, she could hear him breathing slowly and deeply; he had fallen asleep. Letting loose a yawn herself, Ryhenna decided that Cal had the right idea and proceeded to fall into a deep slumber as well...
A/N: Let me know if you liked it! Thanks for reading, next chapter will be up Thursday!