Prologue.

That day Arthur, seven years of age and chubby cheeks red from the cold, went out to collect some wood. Their house settled on the verge of the town, near the vast, intimidating pine forest that was much livelier and more amicably beautiful in springs. Snow covered the land, white and infinite and frigid.

His thick small boots left feet-shaped hole along the path he marvelled, his ears straining to hear any sound of movement. Here there was no wolves or bears, but the silence made the boy twisty and a little cold at the spine. He kept looking behind his back, checking the way he had gone and made sure he wouldn't be lost returning. It was a familiar task to him, but every venture didn't lessen his nerve or alert. They said the mind of a kid was wondrously imaginative, and Arthur was very much so. He looked at the world with different vision through his big, innocent jaded eyes. The pictures in his head were always more colorful and livelier and flooded with un-found wonders.

So as Arthur picked up another branch into his embrace of wood, he saw the pine trees as tall and dark figures of secret and threat maybe, rustling sounds were the breaths, whispers and footsteps of mysterious creatures and beings lurking behind shadows, out of sight and ear-range. And perhaps the path he was walking was a road that led to some adventures or other worlds.

The boy giggled with his thought, a tingle and pure sound float through the quiet forest, tenderly wavered the sleep of nature. Deeming the woods in his hands would be enough, Arthur turned around and decided to head back home; the promise of a solid, safe and predictable space of his house, the warm glow from the small stone fireplace and hot bowl of soup from Aunt Helen made his steps hurry, bouncing with expectation and excitement. Many layers of clothing caused it heavy to run but the energy of his was flowing and plenty. He huffed out smoky white breaths and laughed when he racked through the hazes as he raced.

There suddenly was a loud thud and Arthur stopped in his track. It wasn't enough for him to be fully curious though; instead, it was the whimper coming later that tugged at his curiosity and pulled him on his heels to make way finding the source of the sound.

Arthur knew Helen would scowl at his doing - wandering off-path alone in the forest. But his aunt also taught him to help people in need, especially the ones who were hurt. And the sound he had heard was definitely one of pain. Making do with his own logic and sympathetic feelings for whomever the whimper belonged to, Arthur was almost blindingly searching until he came across another clearing and found a figure laying under the shape of a pine tree.

He hurried over but stopped himself short mild-way, caution and hesitation taking over his body with Aunt Helen's careful teaching and constant precautions.

"Be careful, be careful," He whispered closely as if it was a reminder or a magical protecting spell, and braved himself to approach the figure slowly.

The figure turned out to be a man, clapped in a thick set of dark clothes and sturdy boots, a scarf made of white fur wrapping around his neck. His hair was a mess of dark brown strands, spotted with snow, his face pale and hazarded with tiredness, marred with stubble along his jaw and above his upper deep, dry lip. Dark lashes pressed tight, covering his irises and his strong brows furrowed painfully as one of his palm loosely held onto his left shoulder, which was leaving blood so bright, so real on the absolute whiteness of the snowed ground.

Arthur could feel his stomach churning with panic and worry. He knew he'd better go find his aunt or any adult for that matter, because this was certainly out of his capability. But there were something deep down inside telling him not to leave, clinging insistently at his gut, making him stay and help. On his own.

He risked taking a few more steps until he was right at the man's feet. He abandoned the collection of branches on the snow, holding his breath and reaching out.

A white tiger appeared out of nowhere with legs placing on either sides of the man protectively, growling and almost snapping its sharp teeth at Arthur's little hand. Arthur shrieked, clutched his hands to his chests in surprised horror and stripped, scrambling away in ringing terrified panic.

The boy found his limbs hard to move with all the shaking racking through his body, jaded eyes wide and fearful at the predator on top of the man. Arthur froze at his spot when the tiger disappeared just to immediately show up again, glaring its teeth and profound eyes right in front of his face. Arthur was rigid with fear, frozen and so overwhelming that the scream stuck in his throat became a strangled sob of terror. He grasped at the snow, willing to hold himself still but Arthur was just too scared right now.

The tiger lifted its heavy paw of sharp claws to press against Arthur's chest and push him flat down on the cold surface. Arthur was numb with deepening fear, shaking in minute jerks and sobbing softly and horrified-y with his eyes closed as the tiger sniffed him all over. He felt the warm breath of the animal when its nose touched his cheek once more and stopped the boy into complete stillness by slowly and tenderly licking away his tears.

After a moment of cautiously catching his breath, Arthur dared to open his eyes, face still dampened with tears and by the tiger's raw tongue, and stared into the clear, deeply aware hues of the white carnivore. The boy took a glimpse at its teeth again and swallowed, suddenly so tired and dazed.

"Hey," Arthur breathed out unbalanced-y to the creature, heart reducing from the wildly beating state to a soaking feeling of strange calmness and remained wariness. He didn't know how, but the tiger's gaze on him seemed to soften and the thing stepped back, getting off of him.

Surprise still buzzing in veins, Arthur gradually got up, feeling vibrated, badly ruffled and overwhelmingly relieved. He didn't take his eyes away from the tiger, except from bowing his head slightly to wipe at his face.

"You've scared me a lot," Arthur spoke in a hush tone to the tiger, which was watching him with a look of concentration and something else Arthur didn't recognize. He sniffed, body lightly quivered yet he wasn't scared anymore.

The tiger broke the eye contact and Arthur's hues moved along its gaze, resting on the unconscious profile of the man. Arthur startled, getting on his feet and coming at the man's side. He kneeled down and glanced back at the tiger, looking for permission and finding it standing next to him, using its dark nose to nudge at Arthur's shoulder as though urging. Arthur exhaled shuddered-y, turning back to the man in pain.

The blood was dried, but still too much. He honestly didn't know what to do.

He honestly should just go calling for Aunt Helen.

"I don't have any idea-" He was cut off by the soft growl of the tiger, which was sitting unmoving-y and stared hard at him. The boy gulped minutely, uneasy with the assured determination of the creature and the strangeness of the situation.

"Okay… okay," Arthur muttered, endeavoring to be steady and placing his hand on the bloodied palm of the stranger. He did not know what he was doing exactly, just depending solely on his instinct that was whispering quietly at his core, leading him.

As soon as his hand touched the skin of the other's, everything closed up and turned into darkness. Arthur gasped, feeling sucked in and having to close his eyes. Just some brief seconds later, there was something wet and warm nuzzling into his little palm and Arthur opened his emerald eyes again. He found no pine forest, just a boundless field of grass and himself standing in the middle of it with a white tiger.

The tiger moved forward, like it knew the place for certain, and maybe it did, considering the way it looking back at him as though to make sure if he would follow and beginning leading him through the field, under a sky that felt like a pale haze of illusion.

The venture was stopped when they spotted the man - who should be lying on the ground and grimacing with pain even in his unconsciousness - standing among the field with his eyes close, rid of painful expression and blood.

They advanced and were now at his side, the tiger circling around the man legs, and nuzzling into him a few times, yet the man appeared to be unaffected. The tiger locked eyes at Arthur one more time and the boy followed his gut. He reached out his hand, and hold onto the man's one. "Please wake up," he said and instantly felt a tug, in his mind, between them, like a connection.

Arthur clenched his eyes shut, holding onto that connection and pulling. A force so strong that his mind almost bloomed with exploding whiteness, fear crawling at his every fiber, yet he kept tugging, never letting go, because the powerful need and rightness of doing so was just as intense.

He felt the space he was currently in shifting, as if whirling itself from existence. A breathless choking gasp resounded just above his head, and Arthur widened his irises back into reality. And there they were, in a clearing of a forest whitened and withered by winter nature, Arthur kneeling, locking eyes with a pair of startling pale smoky blue hues of the wounded man. The boy felt his mind spinning, restless and a little afraid. The tiger was still somewhere near, Arthur seemed to be able to acknowledge its presence always.

None of them budged, stillness a warning for something much more bizarre afterwards. Arthur didn't dare to breathe, particularly when he found himself a bit remaining-y unsettled and dizzy. His small hand braced tightly onto one of the man's side, while the other retreated to his chest, stained with dry blood from its previous injured placing position. The strange man was capturing Arthur with his throughout gaze and striking orbs, looking at him like the boy was something incredible, precious and surprising.

Arthur flinched slightly as the man raised his unwounded arm to touch at Arthur's cheek softly, smelling faintly like blood, metal and wonder. "Guide…," The older man whispered, heartbreakingly and breathlessly, full of quiet wonderment and blooming desperate merriness. He used his palm to bend Arthur head down gradually and pressed his dry, cold lip to Arthur's forehead. "Guide..."

Arthur felt pain washing out from the man, mingled with regret and protective affection. Arthur wanted to ease away the pain and the desperation. He held still, heart bursting with something so foreign, wanting to clutch at and say anything back. Like,

"Sentinel."

He had no clues what that was, yet it felt so right on his tongue, so needed in his brain and beating tiny heart. He leant down for more, for much more closeness. He was frightened. But he was peaceful.

Feeling linked. Feeling making sense.

He placed his lips on the layered chest of the 'Sentinel', hearing the weakening rhythm and his arms holding on more tightly, hoping to convey calmness and peace to the other much older male. The hand at the back of his neck also tightened, as if knowing what Arthur felt, what Arthur did not know yet, before loosening.

There was a silent choke, the larger body underneath him racked with spasms and then going limp. Arthur felt the tiger moved close to them, wrapping itself right beside the man's right arm and nudging its nose at Arthur's warmed cheek one last time. Then it faded away, into nothingness.

And Arthur cried into the chests of his Sentinel.

A bond, platonic, lasted only minutes before reaching its finality – but deep and wondrous, so fast and painfully ended.

His first Sentinel died when he was merely seven, not truly knowing about the world surrounding him yet, and what frantic future awaiting him ahead.

That day he was just too suddenly lost and pained to care.