The Keeper of the Grove

by Orkus

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Drama, Changelings, Original Character, Comedy, Adventure
Length: 8941

Unwavering, the Keeper has guarded a grove his people, the red deer, have held sacred for many thousands of years. After fending off a small incursion of changelings, he resolves to care for one of them, who had been wounded and left behind for dead.

The Keeper is an entity of nature as ancient as he is perplexing. Unfailingly, he has guarded a grove that his people, a small, peaceful dominion of red deer, have held sacred for many thousands of years, allowing no harm or threat to trespass within its most secret depths. Once more his diligence is challenged when a small incursion of changelings invade his domain, seeking the precious, healing sap at its very heart.

After fending them off with his powers, he discovers that one of them, their captain, had been injured in the struggle and left behind for dead. Taking pity upon her, he brings her into his grove to heal from the wounds and debilitating poison accrued in the scuffle. The battle-worn and tetchy changeling, Cert, is of course incensed at the creature and swiftly begins plotting his demise. But after some events transpire that unravel their pasts and unwittingly tie them closer together, her view on him slowly appears to start shifting in another direction.

Published 2017-05-22 16:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-05-28 17:40:31 UTC

To Challenge a Guardian

Cert let out a stale and weary puff of air as she pushed aside the leafy branch of a bush that rested in her path. All the plant life to inhabit this forest was a trial in and of itself to overcome, and this mission alone was one that tested her resolve quite fiercely. But she had endured it all with a will of tempered steel, and she was so agonizingly close to her goal now, she could practically taste it.

A love-eating changeling looking like most others, the only distinguishing mark she bore, perhaps, was her left ear. It looked heavily torn and ragged, as opposed to the webbed appendage it once resembled - a disfigurement gained from a scuffle a long time back that still sat fresh in her memory. Her dark carapace was currently donned in the reflective armor of a common soldier, though common she was not. Trailing behind her, each one also a born and raised changeling, were five more soldier drones dressed in a similar manner of armor. They were the troops under her command, and while being some of the toughest changelings Cert knew, hoof-picked by their queen, Chrysalis, for that sole fact, they were quite the disorderly bunch. And why they had been chosen was to come here.

Chrysalis needed what they were now after ever since sustaining terrible wounds from the failed invasion of the pony city of Canterlot. It was during a royal wedding that their queen launched it through clever deception, but they were all repelled away by a blast of pure love energy. The physical injuries were of little issue, but the magic-induced maladies Chrysalis sustained from that point-blank blast and flight proved much too grievous to heal naturally from, or recover even with the aid of what healing magics and medicine the hive knew or were able to steal. The quest personally given by their Queen to mend what ailed her before they could become something worse than they were now was what led Cert within the densest folds of this unimaginably vast forest, located in a distant, uncharted land.

Trees, with thick trunks nearly a dozen feet in width and coated almost entirely in verdant vines and fuzzy green moss, were the seeming hallmark of these thick and untouched woods. And that was without mentioning the unkempt undergrowth of long grass, shrubs, bushes, and prickly plants making up its floor and the changelings' uncharted path. No matter how much they wanted to, they couldn't speedily fly through it on their buzzing, transparent wings. The branches and the vines lining the trees were in too thick of an abundance, making it nearly impossible to traverse without having to repeatedly stop, turn, and find a new way to move through the labyrinthine canopy. And flying above the trees themselves was just as vain, as their tops concealed the various landmarks they depended on to find their way around.

That wasn't to say that having the time to really take in the sights set before them was too much of a bad thing. Never before had Cert, or any of the changelings traveling with her ever seen so much vivid, life-filled green before in their lives. In fact, some of them had spent the majority of their lives within the dark, ever-shifting confines of their hive. Here, sometimes they would pause to gape at the breathtaking scenery to be had at some places. But it was never for long. They had an objective to fulfill.

And having now entered their sixteenth day of travel, some of them were getting unimaginably tired of it.

One of the youngest drones in the group, Milkweed, unleashed a loud, groaning whine from where he walked in the back of the group. "My hooves are killing me..." he said in a nasally tone. "Can we take a break? That last bunch of thorn bushes we went through my gear and scraped my legs really bad..."

"No breaks!" shouted back Cert in her typical, raspy voice, already fed up with his complaints no sooner than they had begun. "We're far too close to the grove for breaks now, soldier. And you had best not continue your whinging unless you want our queen to hear about how much you've been acting like a newborn grub since our mission started."

Milkweed quickly went silent after quietly giving off a low response of "Yes ma'am," to his superior. It wasn't long after that when another drone near the middle of the line, Beetlewing, approached a friend of his, Cricket, with a small issue pressing down firmly on his mind.

"Hey, Cricket, do you think we're actually trying to find a real thing?" he whispered to her after catching up by her side.

Her horned and helmeted head tilting, Cricket sent an inquisitive look his way. "What do you mean by that? Of course it's real. It has to be."

"Well, I know that's probably the truth. But remember how those deer... acted," he continued on, mentioning the inhabitants of the large, isolated village they had stopped close to two days prior in their travels. They arrived near there first after coming to this eldritch forest to question them about the location of an ancient grove containing the mystical treasure that was their objective.

"They gave us all the info we needed, Beetlewing," Cricket said reassuringly. "And our magic told us that they weren't lying."

"But why'd those deer give us the info to their supposed 'sacred grove' so darn easily?" questioned Beetlewing again. "I mean, we forced 'em to tell us, sure. But they were so... unworried about it, once they spilled the beans. So utterly unworried about us - some surely untrustworthy and, in their eyes, despicable changelings - heading off to steal some of their most treasured of resources. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they would've simply told us if we just asked them."

"That doesn't matter," barked Cert, who had caught wind of the conversation, snapping their attention, as well as the focus of the rest of her soldiers, onto her. "We have our path set, and we're going to follow it until we reach our destination. Remember changelings, the sooner we get into that grove and get that 'sacred amber' for our ailing queen, the sooner we can fly out of this darned forest and get back to the hive. And also remember, soldiers, that Queen Chrysalis will generously reward us for working so hard to get her cure."

"Yeah!" cheered another drone, one named Weta. "By the way, this 'amber' stuff... do we even know what it's like?"

"Why do you ask?" questioned Cricket.

"Because I'm curious, of course."

"Then allow me to tell you," she said. "It's like golden sap. Sap that's gained a legendary reputation for what it can do. From what I've gathered from the village alone, the red deer that live in this forest take the stuff from the grove in times of need, do something to it, and give it to the sick and injured, or something like that. It can cure any ailment, supposedly."

"Oh, so that's why our Queen wants it."

A collective sigh went about as nearly every member of the party exhaled at Weta's comment, and Beetlewing voiced their shared concern. "Were you even paying attention to anything in the briefing we received before we left the hive?" he grumbled.

"Maybe..." Weta replied, shifting his teal eyes around with uncertainty. The ignorant changeling was only saved from being berated by his fellows when a strange noise suddenly materialized from the once-silent forest with as much warning to heed it as the hiss of a passing gust of wind.

"Trespassersss..." The sound of a deep, echoing voice boomed with the impact of a clap of thunder. Its reverberating pitch seemed to surround the drones, and all they could do was pause, mouths hung agape and hearts throbbing in their chests in alarm at its suddenness. "I... I am this grove's guardian, and your ilk are not welcome here. I grant none of you interlopers permission to enter..."

Her horn glowing, Cert was the first to regain her composure and stomped forward several feet, crunching the grass beneath her hooves. "Who said that?" she asked to the space of the forest in front of her in a dense growl, before her voice grew in volume. "Who said that?!"

"I warn you; take not a step further, or your lives shall become forfeit," the voice went on as the startled changelings continued to desperately look around for where it was coming from, discovering nothing. "Leave this hallowed place in peace. Go back from whence you all came, and no harm shall befall any of you. Stay, and my actions will be swift."

A threat. As it was made clear a few seconds later that the voice was done with speaking, Cert realized that what she and her troops had just been given was an unmistakable threat. She wasn't willing to take such an ultimatum as that lightly, and she soon showed off a wrinkling grimace. "Who are you? Show yourself!" she angrily demanded in a snarl. No response came to her, and all was silent in the woodland, save for the whistling of the wind through the treetops.

"Puh!" the captain eventually bellowed, her horn losing its glow. She motioned with one of her front hooves for her troops to continue forward. "Soldiers, come on. Wherever that voice came from, I bet its words are hollow and nothing more."

"But, Captain-" Milkweed tried to speak with great hesitation in his tone. He would have finished talking about what he had on his mind, had Cert not then cast a small glare his way.

"Just keep your guard up and eyes open," she commanded. "I have a feeling magic had something to do with what we just heard, but I doubt we're in for any real trouble we can't handle. This is a sign that we're close. Now, keep going."

Her troops did as they were told with a mixture of grunts and silent groans. They marched onward, trying their best to forget the intimidating sound of the voice. It was a few minutes' worth of walking before the last of them had allowed their guard to drop again, if only slightly. The tranquility of their journey was interrupted only when Milkweed stopped as a bright sight caught his eye.

"Guys... what's that?" he inquired, pointing his hoof upward. Stopping, all the drones looked his way, then to whatever it was he had motioned to. What befell their sight was a large, blooming flower with striking crimson petals lined along its center, sitting upon the part of a tree's upper branches. Twisting vines made up its stem, and the head of the plant itself seemed to sway to and fro like a pendulum.

It was when the last of the changelings started staring at it that, without warning, the middle of the flower suddenly split wide open vertically, revealing a maw in the place of its center. A large, circular maw filled with nothing but sharpened teeth that glimmered like gems in what little sunlight showed through the treetops. Emitting a shrill screech that curdled the blood in their veins, the plant's head suddenly extended, shooting down toward the changelings below with the speed of a cracked whip.

It's intended target was Milkweed. Seeing what was heading his way, his nerve broke and he flinched back, his hooves covering his squealing face. It was practically upon him when Cert herself, flying his way on buzzing wings, came charging in with her horn aglow. Slicing effortlessly through the stem behind its head, Cert's horn decapitated the plant fully. Falling limply to the floor as the body it was once attached to retracted back to where it originated from, the flower head's teeth gnashing several times before it finally went still.

Cert was taking her first deep breath of relief after the moment ended when Beetlewing shouted something to the group. "There's more of them!"

Moments after he spoke, it was plain to see that he was right. Erupting from the soil, bursting forth from the bushes, and again sprouting from the green tops of the trees, deadly, lively plants of all kind set themselves upon the group. Predatory flowers, snaking vines, and great shoots with leaves coated in long thorns and quills were just a taste of the variety of plant life that emerged.

Getting into combative positions, the changelings started fighting for their lives. The plants were burned away and torn asunder by the magic. They were sliced in two whenever they grew close enough, and then trampled on into dust. But still more came, popping out of the earth around their destroyed brethren and crawling over them in their single-mindedness to reach their prey.

"Fight on!" Cert roared, burning a twisting, mouth-tipped vine once charging in front of her to ash. She turned her head just in time to see one of the giant nettles twitch its leaves back, then rapidly thrust one of them her way from far off.

In that one motion, the animated plant flung three of its needles at her like a hail of darts, and with deadly precision, Cert was hit by them all in her lower left side, where her armor didn't reach. The sting of them penetrating her flesh was a sudden, crisp, agonizing sensation all in one; white-hot and burning. As they impacted against her, she was sent off of her feet by the force of them.

"Captain!" A voice went out, right before a new sensation of hole-filled hooves grabbed ahold of her falling form. Looking up, it didn't take Cert a second to realize Beetlewing had caught her with his surprised cry. Ducking themselves down before more of the plants could target either of them, he looked to her fearfully. "Captain, are you okay?"

"Th-that... hurt..." she grunted through gritted teeth, before prying her soldier's forelegs off of her body when she felt a surge of strength come back to her. "I'm fine, Beetlewing. Get back to helping the others."

Nodding, Beetlewing left Cert to do as she commanded. Within no time his horn was once more glowing with green energy and was blasting fiery magics at the plants, starting with the one that had harmed his captain. The smoldering remains of the prickly nettle fell to the ground in a smoking heap, but its fellow attackers still kept coming like an indomitable swarm. The changelings fought on, determined not to fall to them.

As they did this, Cert looked to the needles sticking out of her body, vivid, fiery pain filling her entire mind from just them still being planted there. Putting her fanged teeth to the objects with haste, she pulled each out from her chitinous hide one by one as her team covered her. When she spat out the final one she stood up, ready to continue the fight. As she was about to blast and cut at the plants alongside her comrades, a sudden weakness overtook her with the speed and ferocity of the nettle's needles, and she dropped once more to the forest's floor.

Gritting her teeth together until her gums hurt, Cert tried to lift herself up, but to no avail when her hind legs failed to move. She was trying even still when a sudden, frantic cry went out from Cricket. "There's too many! W-we blast them to pieces, and more come! We can't stop them! Wh-what do we do?"

"We... we've got to run! This is hopeless!" next came the panicked voice of Milkweed. He let out a screech as he narrowly avoided a series of barbed needles that flew his way like a hail of flechettes. The projectiles passed him and hit the ground instead, but dread had claimed his mind worse than any wound could provide. "If we stay, we'll die! Run! Run!"

"No!" commanded Cert in a growl, her soldiers already turning tail and scrambling over one another to escape the forest of death. "Don't flee! Keep fighting!" But almost as though she hadn't even said anything, it appeared as though her words fell onto deaf ears. The changelings all ran off in the direction opposite of where she lay, and what few did stay behind for a few brief seconds soon joined them. Their bodies all vanished through the brush that lined the trees, and the sounds of their cries soon died down as they began to settle.

"Cowards! Come back here! Come... back..." Cert continued to call out in vain, and her weakened voice trailed off before ceasing altogether. The ghastly quiet that then fell about like a fog made it quickly become apparent that none of the soldiers were going to return, and it was swiftly replaced with the rustling noises of the plants growing closer to her position unmolested. They quickly came into her view, and all of them surrounded her, peering down at her with faceless heads. Accepting what was surely to be her demise, Cert bit her lip and shut her eyes.

Seconds passed, but nothing happened. Then minutes. The changeling opened her eyes when she noticed that she had not become plant food in that time, and the first thing she witnessed upon doing so was their sudden departure from herself. Retracting on their stalks and eventually vanishing either back into the ground from where they had appeared from, or transforming back into the various scenery once thought harmless, utter silence was all that remained when the last one left Cert's side and ceased its movement. Her brow furrowing in confusion, Cert knew not what was going on, and quickly decided now was the best time to try and escape back to her fellow soldiers. By now her unresponsive lower legs had gone almost completely numb as well, she also realized how troubling that could be, so she thought it would be best to resort to crawling. She was only a minute and a scarce few feet along when the sound of light footsteps brushing over grass and leaves made her turn around.

And the creature she saw exit from behind the wide trunk of a distant tree caught her by utter surprise.

What was coming her way at a snail's pace looked somewhat like a male deer, possessing narrow hindquarters but also a thick, masculine front. Protruding from his head were a set of thin, branch-like antlers that grew to an incredible length not known by regular deer, especially when compared to the bucks at the village Cert and her soldiers previously stopped by. They curled and twisted in various ways, and were covered in an abundance of leaves and vines, just like that of the forest itself. What was perhaps most notable about him, though, was the fact that he was not made of flesh and blood, but what appeared to be... bark and wood.

Upon his face were a pair of glowing, amber eyes set in a glowering stare, and they looked at Cert directly. Whatever he was, this creature bore an appearance deserving nothing short of worry, fear or awe to those who had the capacity to witness its majesty. Instead of possessing any of those looks, Cert had on a fangs-bared visage of pure, seething rage. Without warning her horn lit up and she cast a destructive spell at him with a screaming roar. Expunged from her horn was a baleful green flame, and it directly hit the fore of her target with the speed of a bolt of lightning.

In the briefest of flashes, the deer's head exploded into a smoky green cloud of burnt splinters that scattered about the woodland. As his headless form stumbled about for a few seconds in a manner akin to a dizzied drunkard, Cert, panting from the effort used to conjure her spell, gave off a wicked, and immensely satisfied grin. Her victorious smirk vanished, however, as the deer's wooden body stabilized and regained its previous posture, something plantlike also growing forth from the smoldering stump. The petal-esque protrusions that began to emerge were like the shape of a bud on the end of a tree branch in spring, and after growing into a large enough form, they split apart like a blooming flower. They soon after wilted and fell to the soil of the forest floor, revealing a new head, exactly like the one Cert though she had destroyed, had emerged from it fully formed. His antlers growing at his crown and curling back into the unkempt, but regal shapes they were before, the deer - or whatever the heck it really was - opened his glowing amber eyes again and blinked them a few times with a hum. He then aimed a fairly vexed glare at the startled Cert.

"Lest you wish not for my aid," he began in a deep, though gentle voice, "you would be wise not to try that again."

Cert had no words to use. Even if she did at that exact moment, her throat would not have allowed them to exit her mouth. Her own teal eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates because of what she saw, and the magic once showing brightly at her horn sputtered and failed in her shock. She finally snapped out of it when the creature, having started approaching her further, came right up to her fallen shape and bent his face down to her midsection, near where she was wounded.

"Wh-what are you... doing?" Cert's query came in a hiss. His view turning to her face, the deer hummed again.

"The nettles' toxins are running through your veins," he almost casually spoke. "You are wounded and poisoned, and it appears as though your brothers and sisters will not be coming back to retrieve you and tend to your matters with their own skills. I can already hear them all agreeing to flee back to their 'queen'."

"How? How?" she questioned, blatantly furious.

"The same way I bore witness to your arrival," he responded, sternly peeking at her face once more after having finished his examination. "I see and hear all that happens in this forest. It is but an extension of my will; an extra set of eyes and ears I can use to view all happenings from within the sacred territory that I defend against all malevolent beings, such as yourself."

His irritated stare ended after a few seconds and he lifted his head back up to its full, towering height. "Do you wish for me to grant you the care and hospitality you require, or not? My sense of compassion may be something I cannot easily ignore, but should you will it, I would gladly leave you here to fend for yourself."

Cert looked down to the lower half of her body. She tried to move her hind legs with a grunt, and then the wings on her back, but they still wouldn't respond. A terrible, foreboding feeling came to her next, and she was unable to shake it. "They really have left me, haven't they?" she inquired.

"Yes," he bluntly answered. Cert's brow furrowed angrily and she stared in the direction she last saw her troops flee to.

"Undisciplined rabble," she spat their way, wherever they were now. It was but a moment later when her disdainful view went back to the deer. "I would rather suffer much more terrible injuries than this than accept anything from you. So if you're not here to finish me off, then leave me be."

The guardian puckered his lips and sighed in disappointment. "Suit yourself," he calmly spoke, "and may only luck shine upon you. It fills me with sorrow to just leave you here, where you will surely have to fend against all manners of predators and nature's own elements by your lone self. But if this is your final decision, I shall respect your words and not intervene. Fair thee well, 'changeling'."

With a snort and a nod, the deer turned around and began walking back in the direction he appeared from. Still holding her glare, Cert was more than content to be left alone. That is until she realized that she really did have absolutely no practical way to leave. A limited method to move, and very little at her disposal to defend herself from the nocturnal beasts that no doubt made this part of the forest their home. Biting her lip, she stared at the deer who was now nearly a dozen meters from her. A thousand thoughts telling her to keep her trap shut tore at her mind, but with the image of her very survival being at stake, she drowned out their droning and swallowed her pride with them.

"Wait!" she finally called out, just before his shape could disappear behind one of the trees he had previously emerged from. Halting, the deer of wood turned his head to the changeling in an expecting way. With great reluctance, a defeated sigh escaped Cert's mouth and her horned head sunk to the long grass making up the ground beneath it. "I changed my mind. I... I accept your help."

The deer's lips curled upward, showing off a victorious smile. Trotting happily over to her on his thin, lengthy legs, he was once more by her side in mere seconds. "Truly?" he inquired upon reaching her.

Cert gave off another icy glare at him, but her response was of a dissimilar, if not sardonic variety. " I... graciously accept your help..."

Upon hearing this, the being looked like he had just experienced a friendly joke from the changeling more than a spew of dry sarcasm. Still keeping his joyful, if not smug expression, the guardian's muzzle turned to the dirt, which exposed his antlers to Cert. "If that is now your final decision, then get onto my antlers. I will carry you to a safer and more comfortable spot."

Looking at them long and hard, the changeling eyed his grand, horn-esque protrusions for a good minute. With some hesitation in her movement, she grabbed onto the nearest part of them and hoisted the rest of her limp body onto their fold. With how some of the base parts of the antlers extended from their main body like prongs, she found plenty of balance in resting within them.

When he knew she was set, the deer lifted his head up. "Hold on tightly," he commanded next. Just as she did as he said and gripped hard onto what she could hold, the deer began trotting off with her into the deeper portions of the woodland, the wind at their back and a rather gleeful visage shining on the deer's face.

Author's Note

If you like this story and want more, my dear friends, then be sure to smash that like button!

A Keeper's Care

The ride Cert endured upon the grand antlers of the deer lasted almost an hour. During that time she had to deal with the breeze brought on by her ride's swift movement, and his head sometimes ducking below some low-hanging branches, but that was about it. The journey was bumpy, but somehow fluent. Fluent enough to eventually grow tired on.

It was soon after she let out her third yawn when his pace began to slow. With Cert's attention regained as soon as she noticed this, the deer entered a particularly dense and dark area of underbrush that was thick enough to prompt the ailing changeling to shield her face from all the copious leaves and occasional twigs scraping at her body with her hooves. When she was sure that it was finally over, the first thing she heard was the deer speaking.

"And here we are," he announced, his words bringing the changeling's eyes open and forward. "This is where you have been attempting to invade with that paltry little band of yours. This is the Sacred Grove of my people."

Cert had to fight to keep her stunned jaw from lowering. Like some of the more scenic areas of the forest she trekked through, the sight that lay before her now was nothing short of incredulous, reeking utterly of something harmonious and untouched by the hooves of civilization. The light of the afternoon sun peaking through the treetops in golden rays, illuminating all there possibly was to be witnessed, including a small, clear stream that ran in a smooth, straight pattern around some of the trees. Trotting forward just a few feet more, the deer of wood came to a stop underneath a haggard old willow with a rather thick, gnarled trunk, bearing long, drooping branches with curtain-like leaves hanging from them. With care in his movement, he knelt down and lowered his head at the tree's base. The changeling took her time departing from his antlers, but as she left, she had a question to give.

"Who... who are you, exactly? A guardian of some kind?" she spoke, touching down upon the fertile soil and the lush, green grass growing out of it.

"I am the Keeper," he said, his tone firm and proud. "I maintain my grove with unwavering vigilance and the utmost of passions. I keep it safe from any sort of threat that has a chance to disrupt the peace within it. Threats like you and your retinue of odd, pony-shaped bugs."

While fixating her half-paralyzed self upon the floor of the grove properly, Cert took the chance to scoff at his description of her kind. "What, never seen a changeling before?"

"I am afraid I have not," was his reply. "I've met plenty of ponies. I've encountered burly yaks. I was once even paid a visit by a somewhat queer-mannered lizard-person. But a changeling? Your kind, wherever you originated from, have never once stepped into these woods until now. You are the first I've spoken to."

After a few still seconds passed, a low humming sound next rumbled from within his throat, telling Cert that another question was brimming on his own mind right before he voiced it. "Satisfy my curiosity if you may, but what does the name 'changeling' even mean? Do you change things in any way? I ask only because it resembles the name of some creatures from folklore."

"Um... it's complicated," Cert spoke, seeing that he apparently knew nothing about how changelings could shapeshift. Truth be told, neither she, nor her soldiers had bothered to change forms since entering the forest. They gained what information they knew about how to reach the deer's sacred grove she was now sitting in by spying upon them from a distance before pulling aside lone ones that went out foraging for food. "And I don't feel so well discussing complex matters right now," she went on, finishing what she had to say in a sore voice.

"Fair enough," nodded the Keeper. He was about to take a much closer look at the injuries she suffered, but he noticed a few certain objects were in the way. "If I am to tend to you properly, may you please remove your armor?"

Cert complied to his request only after a few seconds of thinking it over, rolling her teal eyes as she did so. Using her forehooves, she pulled off her helmet, followed by the rest of her gear. When the last piece of her armor was off and levitated into a pile nearby with the use of her magic, the Keeper had himself a clear look at Cert's hairless, chitinous form in full. One of the first things he spotted during the observation was the ragged remnants of her left ear, which came as a small surprise to him.

"Your... ear," he spoke with as much politeness as he could muster. "That looks like a most nasty wound to have suffered through."

"Battles promise wounds," Cert grunted, settling herself down upon her chest and twitching what little there was of the ear in question. "I've gained my share of them."

"Well, then I should focus on the wounds you have now, yes?" he smiled, clearly attempting to make a friendly jest before his expression became slightly more serious. "I shall return in but a moment." Standing up again, the deer trotted away, from the willow Cert laid under, through the shallow stream and into the depths of the grove. When he returned around a minute later, he had several clumps of crimson-tinted, grass-like stuff in his mouth. He dropped them upon the ground together, and believing him to be simply gathering plants he was going to use as medicine, Cert huffed and looked away to the part of the grove ahead of herself. Roughly several seconds later she chanced a more curious look back in the Keeper's direction, only to see the knelt-down deer had just one of the reddish clumps in the fore of his maw, and was a mere inch away from touching the wounds in her side with it.

"Wah- hey, hey!" she shouted in an alarmed tone, stopping his advance by shooting a leg forward and landing it on his his nose. "What in the heck is-"

"Blood moss," calmly spoke the Keeper from one corner of his mouth, the other part still holding the clump steadily in clenched teeth. He shook his head in a quick motion, knocking her hoof from his snout, where it fell back down to the changeling's side. The deer next placed down the piece of moss again, as to speak more freely. "This is what my people call blood moss. It has many other names, but that one is most commonly used. Because of its color, mostly."

"And you were seconds from letting that stuff touch my body... why, exactly?" Cert's tone sounded absolutely livid.

"To help heal you," he steadily answered. "When pressed to wounds that have been caused by the venomous, albeit nonlethal defensive hairs of a great stinging nettle, the special substances held within blood moss nullifies the plant's toxins running through the body, if properly applied. It helps one to recover leagues past what the natural duration rate of the sting is."

"And how long is that, then?" Cert huffed, haughtiness heavy in her tone. "A few days? An entire week? I could handle being like this that long."

"You would be without feeling and use in the lower portion of your body for nearly an entire year if left untreated." His response was as blunt as a falling rock, and for Cert, it had all of the impact of one. Her grimace holding and fanged mouth opening, she was about to spit out another argument she could have with him that was against it, but was immediately beset upon by the fact that there was nothing she could use as fuel for such a clash. Her mouth soon reluctantly closed and she turned away, cursing under her breath.

"You know what? Fine! Fine..." she groused, folding her forehooves in front of her and laying her chin upon them, her face twisted into a contemptuous frown. "Do whatever it is you need to do with that... stuff. But I swear on Queen Chrysalis' mane, if it hurts even the slightest bit..."

"It will not hurt," he told her. "Point of fact, it will feel very relieving -- assuming changelings react to its application as well as deer do."

Cert heard him well, though she pretended not to. The scowling, sardonic look she put next on told him that she understood, but was not very reassured. Shrugging, the Keeper picked up the piece of moss from before into his mouth again and brought it to the area where she had been stung earlier in the day. Cert winced back as he started his treatment upon her injuries, the minuscule wounds themselves still feeling like singeing embers leftover from the inferno of torment that was the strike from the needles' initial impact. But the moment the moss touched her chitinous flesh, it was not pain she felt. No, far from it.

What she felt was... pleasant. Yes, extraordinarily pleasant. And it was so great in its unexpectedly wonderful magnitude that her stiffened and tense joints loosened like an unfastened sail in a powerful gale to the level of alleviation and gratification she experienced from it. The searing pleasure. The sweet... release from all she had to withstand since this accursed and disastrous trek of hers began. For but a fragile moment she felt like letting out a mighty moan from the delightfully warm feelings rolling all over and throughout her weary body, but for the sake of keeping the creature beside her from hearing it, she held it in.

It was as the rubbing of the moss was entering its fifteenth, splendid minute when the Keeper pulled the spent piece away and dropped it to the side, staring down next at the remaining pieces he had brought along. Before he picked one up and began again though, he wanted to ask the changeling something while she was still lucid enough to answer. "From what I could gather, your accomplices called you 'Captain Cert'. And yet, I feel as though 'Cert' may not be your full name. It is far too..." he paused for a second, looking for the right word, "...Simple. Yes, much too simple. Tell me, is this the truth, small creature?"

Going silent for a moment and entering deep thought upon coming to her more stable senses, Cert replied to his query soon enough. "We changelings aren't really known for having anything less than simple names. But... to be honest, my name's... Certiorari. Certiorari Brittle," she mumbled upon eventually giving in to his question, if only to keep her captor from delving further into the matter and get back to the spectacular sensation that was his usage of the blood moss on her wounds. "That's my full name, but I much rather prefer to be called Cert."

One of the Keeper's brows lifted in interest. "Why simply 'Cert'? Certiorari is a lovely name."

She huffed at his compliment, lifting her head from the ground, if only briefly, so she could shift a dry glance his way. "Because I like it short. It's easier for other changelings to pronounce. And it's just... just better."

"There are other reasons, are there not?" the deer inferred as his patient parted her loosened front legs, deciding to bring her chin down onto the surface of the soft grass below them instead. "Care to tell?"

"What concern of it is yours?" Her words came out in an annoyed murmur. "My reasons are my own. Why don't you stop talking and get back to... that thing you were just doing."

"The thing you were once so unenthusiastic to experience?"

"Yeah..." begrudgingly spoke Cert. "That. It felt... nice."

"Fair enough," sighed the deer, picking the new clump of blood moss up into his mouth. Fully focusing back onto his task, he rubbed the moss over the areas of the wounds he had not gotten to as good as with the last one. Cert could not help but give off a quiet, soothed purr as she felt the Keeper's gentle touch once more, and the horrid stinging that remained from where those spikes had hit her mollified further after but a short while.

A pleased hum left the Keeper in turn as he heard the changeling, very happy with himself that he was able to conciliate the gruff being. Cert could hear him too, and cared not about it, just so long as she could keep feeling his soft touch. With some reluctance she eventually opened her now-drooping eyelids, determined not to let herself fall asleep. And what she then caught in her line of sight awoke her fully. It took her a few seconds for her vision to adapt, but when it did her mirthful expression faded.

Just past the stream and peeking through the dark fold of several branches, were several sets of glowing eyes. The eyes were many, wide, and large - highlighted like lights from the inky blackness surrounding them. Golden-amber in color, they blinked several times as they watched Cert like lurking predators observing their prey. She could swear she heard some form of high-pitched chittering coming from their direction, nearly, but not fully indistinguishable from the sounds of the chirping insects all around, and in that instant her instincts forced her into full, startled awareness.

"What... what are those?" she demanded to know, pointing a hoof in their direction. Upon realizing that they had been spotted, whatever the creatures were made a few final sounds to one another and vanished into the grove. This only served to pique Cert's worry further, as any could see by her sudden fidgeting. Stopping again in his work, the Keeper placed a delicate hoof to the changeling's shoulder as it happened to calm her, if only slightly.

"Those?" he soon said, shifting one of his eyes over his shoulder and observing the last of the shadow-cloaked beings departing. "They are saplings. It was not my choice to name them, it is what they chose to call themselves. They were here, living within and protecting this grove long before I came along."

Using his hoof to press her slowly back to the earth, he gave off a small chuckle as Cert's ears lowered with the last of her guard after a short while. "They may be fierce when they believe themselves or this grove to be threatened, but worry not about them. I have told them as we were coming here that you are not to be harmed, but tended to. They shan't lay a hoof or leaf upon you."

He went back to tending to Cert, but this time Cert kept her eyes fully open. She ignored the feelings of the blood moss for now, instead focusing on what she had just witnessed. Seeking more than anything now to get her mind off of them, she tried to start a new conversation.

"What kind of creature are you, Keeper?" she questioned, her tone bearing a hint of true interest. "You're made of wood, but you look like a deer. You say you have power over this forest, but if I'm not mistaken, deer are incapable of performing sorcerous magic of any kind. How is this possible? How are you possible?"

Giving off a thoughtful expression to this query for but a moment, a great, long, and smug grin stretched out over his snout, aching oh-so much of harmless cruelty. "I give my sincerest apologies, but my reasons are... my own."

Cert was unamused by the beast of wood mirroring her use of the words prior, but there was little she could do against it. "They are, I suppose," was her next mutter. "But there's also something else I want to find out."

The Keeper's expression faded back to what it was prior and his brow cocked at this. "And what is it you wish to know now?"

"The source of my mission," she flatly responded. "I came here on that mission from my queen to find a mystical type of sap that supposedly comes from a single tree, said to be as ancient as the world itself. The sap... the tree... it's all true?"

"The sap? Yes, of course it exists. And what you have heard about it being from but a single, venerated tree is indeed true. The Great Tree lives at the very heart of this grove we now lay in."

"And its sap can cure any ailment, correct?"

"Yes, it can," gladly confirmed the deer.

"Then why don't you just use that on me?" Cert's hole-filled hooves tugged at some of the grass laying in front of her, but not hard enough to pull the vibrant green blades from the ground. "You could just give some to me and send me on my way. That would be that, right?"

Another hum, lower in its pitch, left the Keeper. "I am afraid that I cannot do anything of that sort."

"And why's that?" The rest of her movement stopping, one of Cert's brows arched, confused.

"Because it is against my duty. My sacred duty to my people and this grove we revere. The only one who can retrieve the sap now is yourself, and even then I doubt you have what it takes to earn it."

Cert exhaled a stale breath, frustration welling up within her. "And why, pray tell, is that?" she came again, aching for an answer that made sense.

"Because even if one of dark intentions should somehow surpass myself and all that I send at them, there is still a final trial that lays in their path before they can claim the life-sap: the Great Tree itself, from which the Sacred Amber originates," the Keeper said, his voice monotonous and completely without the joyful emotion he seemed to radiate. "It remains closed and sealed, its bark impenetrable by any physical or mystical means. Only those it deems worthy can hope to actually gain entry into its bowels and tap from its very heart."

"Is that so?" Though quiet for a second, a full laugh soon escaped from Cert. "Well, in that case, should I ever get the chance to see the tree for myself after I heal from this poison, I'm sure that I'll pass its... what'd you say it was? A test of worth? I've proven my worth to my queen and my hive many times."

"Is that so?" echoed the deer, a toothy, mocking smirk forming on his mouth. "If that day does come, then I wish unto you the best of luck. I truly do."

"I'm sure..." puffed the changeling. Finding all the information she needed (for now), Cert relaxed herself as best as she could when she prepared to receive more care from him. "But enough about that for now. Back to work, Keeper."

Upon hearing the order given by his guest in a tone containing nothing short of arrogance, the Keeper could find only amusement, and he cherished it immensely as he went back to his solicitous tending. An hour passed them by at a steady crawl and the last rays of sunlight had been replaced by a silver curtain of moonlight during that time. As darkness crept in, fireflies began to come out, their abdomens lighting up every few seconds like stray embers from a campfire. When the Keeper's rubbing slowed and eventually ceased a final time, it was clear to the weary Cert that he was getting ready to leave. What he was going to do after discarding all the used blood moss clumps, she didn't know. Before he had a chance to even stand, she decided again to talk, if only to learn one more, biting thing before he had the chance to part.

"Why... did you choose to bring me here? To heal me, even in spite of viewing me as a threat to your tree?" inquired the changeling, now lacking any form of sarcasm or peevishness in her words.

To this, the Keeper was still for several moments until his reply came. "As I said once to you before, I am compassionate. Wicked or otherwise, I prefer not to actually kill potential invaders, lest they prove themselves to be beyond forgiveness. With your long-gone allies as my evidence, I would much rather frighten them off. But should dauntless ones like yourself become terribly wounded in the following skirmish, I allow them to limp back to the nearest village for aid with their tails tucked between their legs. However, given how I witnessed you and your fellows treat some of my people with intimidation in order to reach our most hallowed place, I do not think they would welcome you so warmly."

"So... I guess that means I'll just have to heal up here then, huh?" Cert's expression was no longer hard and glaring, but simply passive. She then shrugged, "Very well then... I guess it could have been worse. Far worse..."

"It will take just a tad less than a full score of days for you to fully recover from the nettle's poison," the Keeper went on, using a cloven hoof to brush away the spent blood moss from his guest. "I assure you Cert, you will be back upon your legs by that time, so long as I am able to apply blood moss to your wounds every day. But such a method of renewal also requires ample rest." He stood up next, evident to Cert enough that he was indeed about to leave her side. "And with that, may you sleep well, changeling. I will let you be until the morning comes."

Bowing his antlered head, the deer turned himself around and began heading back to the inner folds of the grove in a light and graceful trot, traveling beyond the stream and disappearing behind the cluster of trees within seconds. Cert was left alone under the willow tree, and only now did she fully realize a chorus of crickets and other creatures were sounding about, each one's loud, chirping music like that of a fantastic, lulling instrument. The sense of paranoia over the 'saplings' she witnessed was long gone, if only because the Keeper told her they wouldn't harm her. Though she knew excruciatingly little of him, if anything at all, his given word was... enough. Enough to trust, but not enough to keep her from feeling the incomparable, pulling desire of fulfilling her objective.

Cert's horned head lowered upon the grass and she pulled her forehooves in for extra warmth in spite of the ample heat of the summer night. Even as her eyelids closed and she succumbed to the allure of sleep, the changeling was planning on how she could possibly deal with the Keeper of the Sacred Grove. Even if he was a mighty sentinel with the power to manipulate nature, and even with the near-omniscient abilities the forest itself afforded to him, there had to be some sort of flaw with him. Some kind of weakness that could be exploited for her own benefit on the matter. It was clear that he hadn't told her everything about himself, but if she were somehow able to goad, if not directly pry that information out, it would become his most assured downfall.

There was zero chance she would leave this forest empty-hoofed come the time she fully healed, and there was no fathomable way she would return to the hive with only a fantastic story to show for all of this. She would get that sap for her queen at all costs, and the Keeper who had so very kindly taken her in was the key she needed to make that goal a reality.

If there was one thing Cert knew, even half-paralyzed and slowly nodding off to the beat of sleep's song within this life-filled grove, it was that a changeling, no matter how badly injured, was still built to manipulate others...

Foreword: A Word Not Often Used

Love. Now that is a word I do not use all that often, nor do I hear it with much frequency.

The very nature of love, such a raw, unkempt emotion, can mean a great many things. Mostly, it's quite unpredictable. Some who experience its fickle grace covet the most valuable of trinkets. Some lust only for pleasure to sate their desires. Some take to using its meaning wholly when they jealously take to guarding that which brings them joy. But some, a scarce few, can refine the emotion into something else. Something shared in equal measure. Something true.

Like a cancer, like a blessing, like a curse and like a gift, love has the insidious potential to take a firm root within the souls of the kindest of beasts and blackest-hearted of beings. And not only can it pervade, it can pervert; it can change the most stone-set of minds and drive forth passions once thought inconceivable, all for its own sake and no others. And it was no different for two peculiar creatures I once came across in my travels. Two creatures of grand differences noticeable to even the densest of fools. But through it all, they discovered truth. Truth that forever bound one to the other and never yielded.

Because I so very rarely acquire mention of it, that should not mean that I have not witnessed it. In all honesty that is mine to express, that one, particular memory of those two creatures comes to my mind whenever I hear even the slightest utterance of the word. It was a long time ago when I encountered them. Many years back, before even you sprouted up from this good earth.

These two entities first met one another as foes, driven to confrontation by duties and reasons one would interpret as selfishness. By the time it had come for them to part, they had found craving in something else. Something beyond duty and petty want. Something a little bit more than all that, I think would be most appropriate to refer to it as. As all logic itself stands, it should never have even happened to begin with.

But love, such a raw, unkempt emotion, has that notorious tendency to set aflame that which was once thought impossible to light, and it is not a sense that can simply be bound by something so minuscule as logic...