G U A R D I A N_________a story of change________________________________

Long, elegant legs graced over the forest floor, barely disturbing the thick blanket of browned leaves and twigs. They rested for a moment beside a tall, weather-smoothed oak tree deep in the dark of the forest. The blue black pelt he wore caught the sunlight's yellow hued beams, sending a dull sparkle through the dust ridden air. His antler's candles remained unlit in the morning hours, sitting half melted above his crown. His soft, worried face was well hidden by a well-kept skull mask. The dark voids that acted as eyes looked not so fierce as sad. Deep within the shadows they cast, the light glint of his eyes could be captured. They shifted nervously over the horizon, his ears high to catch the subtle music of the forest. Or, perhaps, the true music. Somewhere in the distance, the various sounds of magic echoed through the tree branches, creating a symphony unique to the Endless. The Forest was never without the touch of magic in it, it seemed. Always, somewhere around the trees and rocks, the sharp beams of casting could be spotted.

The Specter moved along a line of trees, carefully avoiding a group he could spot in the distance. His eyes trailed their play as he left them behind, carefully watching for any kind of approach. They remained oblivious to the elder stag's presence, well absorbed in their own encounter. The emotionless mask swiveled away from it's sentry duty. Ahead, the dark form of the bridge slowly appeared. It rested across sunbathed banks, far from the reach of the tree's shadows. The only darkness lay beneath it's depths, capturing the thin wisps of grass on the bank in a small bath of shadows.

With trepidation, the stag exited the tree wall, hooves soundlessly shifting on the grass. His pace became sure and steady, and soon he stood upon the weathered rocks of the foot bridge. He turned to face the trees again, the darkened eyes gazing out all around him as he noted the subtle laughter of each creature nearby. The twin idols were uncomfortably close. Several still figures rested at their feet, he saw, but none bore the white pelt. There was little to fear for now.

The long legs folded beneath him, sending his body down to the stones. They were cool despite the sun's caress, sending a light shiver through Specter's bones. The quiet, emptiness settled comfortably around the stag. He had long called the quiet his friend and keeper. In the back of his mind, though, sat the pleasant memories of friends whose hearts had beat with warmth beside him. There was always his extended family of Sqish and Vision, and the bane of the deer's life; Skye. But they were not who he had sought in his younger years. The firm image of an orange pelted stag, standing tall and noble with his mask of bone and wide blood red antlers. Quamar; guardian of the bridge. But the bridge lay sadly empty now.

Specter perked his ears at the approach of another. Down the river path he could see the blue clad Scape, conversing with his insect companions. Seed stood beside him, the poet's face unreadable from the distance. Their familiar scent lulled Specter back into a calm state. By the corner of his eye he caught their movements towards the bridge. Calling playfully to each other in the way of old friends, they trotted well passed the crossing, moving with certainty into the birch trees. Specter noted it as a triumph, and lifted his masked head higher into the breeze.

Beyond this small part, his hours as sentry went quietly. Quickly his heavy mask brought his head to the ground, sending him into a quiet sleep. In his head played thoughts of the past; following around parties of deer, chasing fellow fawns through the fields of red, catching glimpses of his beloved doe through the brush and rocks. The times of sleep were when his sad visage allowed a smile to break his lips, turning them upwards and an often unexpressed way. He could almost feel the presence of Quamar beside him, a silent guide on the crumbling bridge. His hooves dug into the soft flesh of the Specter, nudging him urgently... urgently, urgently...

The sudden touch snapped the stag to awareness, and he threw himself forward. He stumbled quickly, his hooves tangling themselves like weeds in the brush. He gracelessly fell to his side, head turned to face his unknown attacker. The dark that had come to encase the forest was broken by the silver of moonlight. It touched a naked deer, who had no name to light his path. It back quickly from the bone-dressed Specter, turning tail and fleeing into the dark waters. Specter smirked at the small justice, watching as the confused nameless swam back to the pond as a tiny frog. But, with heavy heart, he shifted his eyes back to the empty stones. His flanks rose and fell with heavy breaths, but he felt unwilling to rise from his grassy bed. Slowly, the shadows calmed his racing heart, bringing him back to his feet.

He felt disappointment weighing heavily on him. He'd obviously been unworthy of the honor he'd chosen to take; he was not meant to be the guardian of the bridge. With a low head, he turned to the tree line, edging towards their welcoming shadows. But thoughts brought his hooves to a halt. His eyes turned back to the arch of rocks, studying their forms. Perhaps being a guard was not something you were born to, perhaps it could be learned.

The Specter turned around, shuffling through the weeds to the edge of the bank. He laid his slender ears against his head, and pressed his hoof firmly into the dirt. To be the guardian, he couldn't simply give up, he needed to show his own strength. The stag bent his knees, kneeling down to the bridge. He touched his mask to the stone, and whispered a promise to it. He'd prove himself worthy to stand on it's arch and watch over the fields. The gods would see him here, he was sure, and guide his quest.

With a twitch of his tail he flung himself back to the trees, twisting between their trunks with ease. Soon the bridge stood alone once more, quietly waiting until the morning, when it's guardian would return to it's banks.
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Yup, Specter is getting a new look, and a new job. He'll most often be hanging around the ruins and the bridge, and giving reports on what's happening in the forest. Don't think he's going to be all sunshine and rainbows, now, though! He'll still continue to stalk large groups of deer and run away a lot.

I tried to do something... different with how I wrote. Tried to channel Specter's sad, poetic nature, I suppose.