Guardians by Design - Land
Geothermal Crime Scene

Geothermal Crime Scene

The Guardians crossed terrain littered with sagebrush, juniper trees, and wildflowers. Perished lodgepole pines laid on their side, seemingly forced over by strong winds. Accepting their fate, they lied in place permanently. Exposure in the form of wind and sun quickly bleached the bark of the thin, lifeless trees to a pale white. Their branches were dry brittle, easily breaking with sharp snaps when stepped on. Small, narrow trunks left them ineligible to be recycled into nurse logs; no new-growth such as mosses or second-generation trees sought refuge upon their fallen skeletons. A worthless commodity of the forest, they acted only as a hinderance for the Guardian’s journey.

It wasn’t the path of least resistance headed west by any means, but they had found it easier to take a direct route towards geothermal locations by using rising pillars of steam as beacons. Festelda hung back a few yards behind the group, picking various herbs, seeds, and berries she found along the way for testing and mixing. An elk called in the distance; a drawn-out, high pitched bugle called longingly for a mate. Rodents scurried from cover to cover, grabbing whatever they could with haste before retreating to safety, leaving only plumes of dust in their path. The activity comforted Dahj. It was relieving to see that there was still life amongst the plains.

Dahj lightly touched the etched runes on his horns – one trait he had not lost during his evolution. Running the skin of his fingers through the grooves, he thought of the day he was awarded the unique markings. Proceeding to inspect his chest and shoulders, he found the markings from a previous life had faded away. His herd had once used a combination of reddish-brown mud combined with bark shavings of red cedars to ‘mark’ significant individuals within the herd. The markings had since washed out of his thick, matted hair throughout their journey.

“I miss my markings…” he said casually, loud enough for the group to hear.

“Markings? What did the markings do?” Reblex inquired lazily.

“Purely cosmetic. Was just something to make a herd mate stand out, that’s all,” Dahj replied, glancing at Festelda as she picked brightly-colored juniper berries. “Kind of a coming-of-age ceremony… Each spring, cows would gather small piles of mud; still saturated from post-winter rainfall. Using their hooves, they would scratch the softest layer from the surface of red soil. Bulls used the friction of their horns to grind dead bark from red cedar trees. When combined, it creates a dull copper hue, used to paint the herd’s adolescents. I always thought there was a subtle metaphor to it, myself. ‘Bark of the bull and mud of the cow’. The bark represents strength and fortification, but without the soil, there is nothing to support the bull…”

“Huh,” Festelda said, subconsciously accepting Dahj’s passive plea. She lightly crushed a berry between her fingers. “I like that, Dahj. Simple harmony. You know, I have a few things that we might be able to use to paint new marks. I’m sure these pigments would dye your fur. The fur you have left, at least.”

“We can give it a shot,” Dahj said with a smug grin.

Festelda procured her homemade mortar and pedestal – typically used for making potions – from her pouch to grind the purple berries into a pulp. Mounting-in red mud stretched it further. Berries alone would not yield enough paint to recreate significant markings on the large bison. The mud would also assist the paint in clinging to Dahj’s matted fur once applied. Mixed together, the ingredients produced a deep purple.

Brenloru and Reblex watched Festelda use two fingers to scrape the mix out of the mortar before lighting dapping spots and lines onto Dahj’s right shoulder.

“That’s never going to hold. Will wash out with the next rainfall! Besides, he’s too big… gonna take a lot of paint to cover that hide,” Reblex said.

Dahj knelt, awkwardly leaning to his side to allow the raccoon to match his height.

They were simple markings; just as a test. However, Festelda explained that they represented the land. Small, jagged squares were the rocks, straight vertical lines the trees, and a deep ‘V’ shape running down his arm was a canyon.

Dahj chuckled. “Hah, yeah, that makes sense,” he lied, grabbing his shoulder with his opposite arm to pull it towards his face. His slouch prevented him from actually being able to see the markings on the side of his arm, but was grateful for the attempt. “Thanks Fes.”

“I want some too!” Reblex cried.

“Okay, what color?” Using a wad of dried grasses, Festelda scraped the old paint from the bottom of the bowl to start anew.

“Two big red swirls. Right here. One on each arm, to look like my horns!” Reblex said, flexing his bicep.

Festelda chose bright red berries and dust of ‘redder’ rocks she found in the area. Using the sharpened edge of another stone, she chiseled away bit of red rock. Mixed together, they created a deep red paint. Using two fingers, she started at the middle of the ram’s bicep and swirled upwards towards his shoulder before circling back around to the middle of his arm, just above the elbow. Long trails of paint bled down his arm and dripped to the ground below. “I will need to circle around the back of your arm a bit… It’s not as thick as you think it is,” she teased.

“Sick!” Reblex shouted, raising his elbow above his head to invert the horns. “No predator will mess with me now.”

Dahj mimicked the action with his arm to check if he could see his own markings from a different angle. It didn’t work. His horns just poked his own arm, making him wince. Brenloru snorted quietly at the contorted bull and gave him a nod of approval to ensure that they did, indeed, look acceptable.

“And you, Bren? What would you like?” Festelda asked, cleansing her mortar.

“Actually, I’ve always thought my rack was a little impractical. Makes me stick out like a blue-hide-in-a-yellow-forest during covert situations. Perhaps you could make it… blend in a little? I’d like it to camouflage with my surroundings,” he said, looking around the area for leaves of the deepest green.

“Blue hide…?” Reblex mumbled, inspecting his own. “Yellow forest?”

“Sure!” Festelda replied. “But I’m gonna need a lot of paint for that!”

“It’s just a saying, Reb. The forest isn’t yellow,” Dahj assured the confused ram.

Festelda gathered grasses, leaves, and long pine needles to grind, extracting their chlorophyll.

“I don’t think it will stick…” she said, “but hopefully the paste will stay long enough to stain the bone.” She packed on various splatters and lines across the platter-like antlers. Browns, reds, and whites scraped on from rocks made the rack blend in with the surrounding features quite nicely; from a distance. Up close, it resembled a very abstract painting of nature.

“How about you, Festelda. What would you like?” Dahj asked, admiring the decorated group.

“Ha. I’m fine just the way I am. Black and brown, like a bandit!”

The group complimented their new markings as they continued towards plumes of steam rising in the distance. Although Dahj missed the traditional markings of his herd from a previous life, he felt that the fresh ones made for a fitting representation of his new herd.

***

The chalky, white ground the Guardians crossed en route towards the rising pillars of steam was delicate and cracked. Dahj’s weight caused the dry breaks to streak outwards around the soles of his feet when depressing the weak ground. Streaks of yellows and reds ran through the soil. The smell of what he suspected was rot was strong in the air, causing Dahj to scrunch his nose and focus on inhaling less frequently. Trees that had once attempted to grow on the toxic land now leaned to their sides, stiff and barren. Suffocated from lack of nutrients, they stood in place, petrified. A warning, deterring other life foolish enough to encroach on the other-worldly, inhospitable plot.

Small puddles of grey water dotted the odd landscape; their water too murky to see the bottom. Bubbles rose to the surface and popped with puffs of steam. The group warily walked towards the largest puddle with the most steam production, unsure of their footing. Some areas felt as if their leather-padded feet would fall right through the crust into Designer-knows-what.

Festelda gasped. A striking whitish-grey liquid mud filled the steaming pool. Large bubbles rose through the pool, producing a deep ’blurp’ as they broke the surface and popped. The explosions sent smooth mud flying to random parts of the pool, landing with wet splats.

The viscosity made for a formidable opponent against the eternally-rising air coming from the center of the earth – facing the final task of pushing its way through the thick, toxic grey mud. Animated clouds of steam that were released revealed the actions and movements of the wind. The clouds that smelled of spoiled eggs swayed, leapt, and dove around the group.

“Get. Away from it,” Brenloru hissed firmly through clenched teeth as Reblex approached the mud to touch it.

“I… I thought we could paint with it,” Reblex replied, embarrassed.

“It’s not for painting. It will scald your hand,” Brenloru scolded.

As Brenloru and Reblex argued back and forth, Dahj noticed a strange formation around the far side of the bubbling mud pond. He carefully circled around the precarious landscape to inspect what appeared to white rocks; very similar to the color of the soil. However, these rocks had patches of fur stuck to them, and were streaked in red. This shade of red, however, was not geological.

Dahj grabbed a long stick nearby to prod the white stone. He rolled it over to reveal empty eye sockets and a jaw that still housed teeth. Jumping back in fright gained the attention of the others.

“A skull,” he said as his party joined the investigation. “And the rest of the skeleton...” He used the stick to push through the surface of the white mud, exposing rib and leg bones protruding through the surface of the chalky soil.

“See?” Festelda said to Reblex. “You could have killed yourself.”

“She didn’t kill herself here,” Brenloru said. “It’s a doe, and she was dragged here. Look at how the mud has dried leading towards the body. Small trenches near mounded dirt. It was postmortem. No signs of struggling, but there are other tracks. You can see the trail of her body and legs, with prints of a separate, accompanying animal pathing right next to it.”

“So, why bring her here?” Reblex asked.

“The killer probably assumed the mud puddle would dissolve the body. It seems to have done a fine job with the flesh and hair, but the bones remain, for now. This didn’t happen very long ago.” Brenloru picked a remaining patch of hairy flesh from the skull and rolled it between his fingers.

“So, probably a wolf or a bear?” Dahj guessed. “But why dispose of it? Why not eat it and be done with the corpse?

“That’s the weird part,” Brenloru said, glancing back at the imbedded trail. Steam blew towards the group. “These aren’t paw prints. They’re hoof prints.”

***

It was time for the group to head north towards their final desired location; Brenloru’s cave. However, there was one more geothermal feature they wished to see before their departure this region. Based off the word of a small robin they met miles back, their path had shifted a little further south west to find one of the holes in the ground that spouts hot water.

“I don’t know if I believe him,” Reblex said, growing tired of walking through yet another lodgepole pine forest.

“Why not?” Brenloru replied, focused on weaving between trees.

“I was told to never trust robins. Dirty little tricksters. They hide in the shadows, calling to each other until they’re ready to steal or kill,” Reblex said.

“That’s crows, or ravens…” Festelda said with a scoff. “Jeez. Do you know nothing of birds?”

Reblex retorted with a more childish scoff – a hard sound from the back of his throat. “All the same. They just wanna steal your scraps.”

Dahj could make out more steam rising from the ground, far beyond the end of the tree line they were headed towards. “I think we’re almost there,” he called. He adjusted the bear pelt he carried, currently tied around his waist. It was becoming a burden, but he refused to cast the trophy aside. Although it concealed his pouches, and the powerful object they contained, he felt that the weight and smell of the bear skin was beginning to hinder him.

Following the ram, Dahj noticed him occasionally lose focus while traveling through the trees. Distracted by small birds hopping across the forest floor, Reblex’s direction would briefly waver, as if altering his path to follow them. Earlier in the day, he had mentioned how a single bird could provide enough energy to sustain hours of hiking if consumed. Dahj had dismissed the comment, assuming he was joking.

Shoulders slightly drooped to assume a position that resembled a prowl, Reblex fixed his gaze on the birds. Narrowed vision caused him to bump into tall, skinny lodgepole pines with his dense horns. The dull impact would resonate through the slim trees, shaking rain water from the tips of needles that capped the branches above him. Relieved of their weight, the branches would flick back into the air, releasing water droplets that landed on the aimless ram’s back.

Noticing the dripping liquid, Reblex wiped it from his shoulder with a single finger. First smelling it, he placed the end of his index finger on the tip of his tongue, then returned his gaze to the branches above.

Tracking? Dahj thought, watching for Reblex’s reaction. Like a cat following a trail of blood, the ram scanned the area, as if looking for an eviscerated animal responsible for the dripping liquid.

***

The group broke through the tree line, where they found themselves standing on the edge of a sharp cliff. Plains that featured white soil, similar to the type they had found near the bubbling mud puddles sprawled below them. A large, crystal-clear pond had seemingly burst through the fragile surface of the white plains. The bottom of the pond boasted rings of various brilliant colors, which contrasted beautifully against the plain, soil canvas. Yellows at the very edge of the pool turned to shades of oranges as the pond grew deeper, followed by reds, turquoise, blue, then dark purple leading into a void sinking into the center of the earth. The lake was shaped like a funnel of colors – filled with scorching water.

Festelda shuffled for a pouch at her waist. “Those colors… would make great pigments for my paintings!”

Brenloru grabbed her by the arm. “Do I really need to keep you away from the pools as well, Fes?”

“I… I just thought I could scrape a little from the side,” she replied bashfully.

A strong, humid wind heavily mixed with a smell of sour rot passed over the Guardians standing on the cliff face.

Dahj looked past the colorful pond to another bed of white soil, further in the distance. Directly in the middle was a large mound of soil, surrounded by puddles of varying sizes. The mound sporadically sputtered water. Steadily growing in frequency and severity, finally, it burst. A stream of water with the circumference of a narrow tree trunk spouted vertically twenty feet into the air, holding pressure for some time before losing its strength. Boiling water rained from the sky, showering the soil surrounding the mound. The jet of water replenished murky puddles and scorched soil already void of life.

Thok! Brenloru clicked his tongue to gain Dahj’s attention. Raising his chin and eyebrows, he gestured towards the geyser. Behind the geyser.

Before the geographical marvel could finish its presentation, a sturdy, black boar had circled around the water jet. The animal must have been what Brenloru was gesturing towards – not surprisingly, as neither could believe any creature would get so close to the scalding rain. The boar kicked out it’s back feet as it squealed loudly. Running laps around the pillar of scalding water, he attempted to catch every drop on his back. The erratic actions seemed intentional, piquing Dahj’s interest.

The Guardians cautiously approached the boar as the stout stranger shook water from his back, huffing and screeching loudly. His black skin contrasted quite obviously against the white soil. Two gnarly tusks curled out of either side of the boar’s mouth beneath his long snout, mounted on his blocky head.

“Boar,” Brenloru said with a deep, bold voice. “Are you insane? What possesses you to bathe in the boiling water?”

“Stay back! I have to get it off! I have to get it off!” the pig squealed shrilly, violently shaking his whole body. Ignoring the presence of the Guardians, he kicked his back legs outwards, as high in the air as his sturdy hams would allow. His body was nearly barren of thick, bristly hair, yet some of his stubborn winter coat had remained through the scalding shower.

“Well, you seem to be doing a fine job… Wash what off?” Dahj asked, growing concerned for the poor animal.

“The… blood,” the boar huffed. He wavered dizzily, out of breath. “I… I had an accident.”

“Relax. What is your name?” Dahj asked, calming his tone.

“Kemble.” He seemed to be focusing on a single spot in the ground to control his swaying. The long white whiskers on his snout trembled lightly from lightheadedness.

“You’re in good company, Kemble. We are a group dedicated to the defense of nature. Why don’t you tell us what happened?” Dahj placed his hand on the boar’s shoulder, attempting to steady the dense, swaying body.

The boar’s skin was red and irritated. He flinched when touched. “I just… found her like that. A doe. Her side was ripped open. Her guts and blood were spilled, staining the grasses and brushes. Her lifeless eyes were void, staring at the sky, like small balls of darkness. It was a recent death. Her tongue was still wet, skin still warm. Normally I just pass corpses, think nothing of them. In fact, I generally steer clear. The flies like me enough as it is, even without being covered in rancid blood!” Kemble explained slowly as his tough skin twitched from the blistered burns. He stared unwaveringly at the horizon, unable to make eye contact with any of the Guardians.

“So, this is why you’re bathing yourself?” Dahj asked, assuming he already knew how this story proceeded. However, boars and pigs in this region were herbivores. He had only ever witnessed them eating ground flora and berries. They were equipped with strong, shovel-like tips on their nose to root under brush and through dirt to access hidden, delicious morsels other animals could not get to.

“I began eating,” Kemble continued, ashamed. “I don’t know why. I noticed myself becoming curious years ago. Fantasizing about the taste, the smell, the texture of flesh. Occasionally I would daydream about it, or pretend the berries I was eating was blood when they popped in my mouth.”

“I was usually able to control it. Ignore the urges. However, this time was different. She was just lying there. Fresh. Like a banquet laid before me,” Kemble continued. A tear rolled down his cheek. “Before I knew it, my snout was covered in blood. Tufts of fur hung from my tusks. I was drunk on the flavor of the warm liquid.”

“How long ago was this?” Brenloru asked.

“Weeks. But the thought still haunts me. I can’t exactly see my own body; my neck is too thick.” He demonstrated an attempt to turn his wrinkly head. “I still try to roll in the mud, bathe in the scalding water to get rid of it. But the thought still haunts me… I didn’t want this; to be driven by an appetite I never asked for.” Walking away from Dahj, Kemble paused to admire Festelda’s belt and daggers. She stepped back defensively from the wild boar.

“I couldn’t just leave her there. I felt shame, pity for the lifeless corpse I had defiled. Should anyone witness my crime, they would assume I committed the murder. I was merely a scavenger.” Kemble sat down on the white soil, coating his black butt in chalky dirt. He hung his head in shame. “I had to dispose of the body. I used all my strength to drag her to a bubbling puddle of mud. The forbidden pool.”

“Forbidden?” asked Brenloru, surprised that it was so well known that it had a title.

“Well yes, of course. Forbidden,” Kemble replied with a light squeal. “It is a boar’s dream to roll in that warm mud on a cold winter’s day. But it can kill us. Boil alive then dissolve those foolish enough to jump in. I knew that’s where I needed to take her. No one would find the evidence there. The body would disappear, and I could forget all about this.”

Reblex moved to flank Kemble’s right side. Dropping his head slightly, he clenched his fists. Noticing his repositioning, Festelda quickly intercepted his path, placing herself between him and the injured pig. “Boiled boar…” he muttered. “Imagine how long an entire pig would keep all of our bellies full.”

Festelda punched him in the leg, wearing a scowl. Reblex quickly glanced at her, seeming surprised that she had heard his thoughts.

“I mustered all of my strength to pull the body towards the puddle.” Kemble turned his head to drag one of his curled tusks through the dirt, mimicking the memory. “I got her as close as I could, then watched as her body sank into the viscous, clouded liquid. I left as quickly as I could, but the thought lingers. I will never do such a thing again.”

Pulling Kemble aside, Dahj forgave the boar and attempted to coax Kemble into forgiving himself. He explained – without providing too many details – that his appetite was no longer self-controllable. An unseen entity had been augmenting the dietary practices of various species, making their hunger no longer exclusive to plants.

“Bren, see what you can do about his scalded skin…” Dahj requested. He shuttered at the sight of the swelling blisters, now threating to pop like one of the bubbles on the surface of the heated mud puddle.

“Right, um, maybe some, uh…” Brenloru fumbled for flora at his side. “Here, I have pine needles and bark,” he said before placing a combination in his mortar.

Kemble squealed in fear of the abrasive ingredients.

“No? Hm, you’re probably right. Let’s try something different.” Brenloru extracted soft, white pedals from his pouch, along with thick stems of a separate plant with high moisture content. Lastly, he added nourishing vegetable oils yielded from plants of the underground farming plots back home. Grinding them together produced a white product with a thick, soothing consistency.

Kemble’s enflamed skin mellowed to normal complexion as Brenloru applied his concoction. The boar hummed gently, pacified by plant’s healing powers.

“Bren… I’m impressed,” Reblex said genuinely.

“Had to be a successful combination eventually!” Brenloru boasted. “It’s a good start.”

Brenloru provided direction to the Cedar Homestead for Kemble, explaining that it was a sanctuary for creatures seeking refuge from the intrusive thoughts of consuming meat. Kemble gratefully accepted the coordinates and turned his path to the northwest with deep appreciation for his healed burns and mind.

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