Two gunshots echo in the silent night, and the forest stops to listen. Replays the sounds, slower. Deciphering. Deciding.

First gunshot for the dog, mid lunge for the throat.

Second gunshot for the boy, mid swing, trying to save the other half of his heart and soul.

The forest listens.

It counts each stroke of the spade as it cuts into its virgin earth. Winces as the vile darkness is emptied into the hole. Watches with its wide starry eyes as its scars are covered up hiding all trace of the waste hidden beneath. The excess of evil, the by-product. It didn't ask for this grave, for the darkness that seeps out of it. The forest knows it's sorry for tainting the hallowed ground it's been placed in.

The forest watches.

As large tawny forest owl perches on the boy's chest, the breathing ragged and slowing. It is with mercy that the Owl plucks the memories from him. To give him a chance at a peaceful afterlife. One where pain and betrayal won't cut so deep. Taking away the boy's only reason to live.

The forest listens.

To the limping ragged cries of a dog, forcing his way through the forest to find her. His lifeblood seeps out of him but he presses onward. He ignores the scent of his own blood and follows a scent he memorized in his youth, the scent of warm unconditional love, of cinnamon cookies and summer breeze forever trapped in long black hair.

It is a hard trail he'll have to walk and the forest eases some of its harshness for him. The stream, usually cold at this time warms around his sore pads. Moss grows on otherwise slippery rocks as he passes. The dead leaves turn green under him to soften his steps, twigs, and low lying branches bow away from him in this regal procession.

He reaches her, and the forest seems to hold its breath, watching as he painfully uncovers the scars freshly cut into the forest's skin until he finds her. Pale green eyes open wide as if in shock, staring up at the black starry sky. A pale face, devoid of all life, contrasted against the dark red spattering down her chest and neck. With this done he throws his head back to the sky and howls with all the desperate pain he can muster. Regret for not making it in time, regret for failing her, regret for surviving when she didn't. When there was nothing left to cry about he lay himself down to the dirt to die.

And the forest comes alive.

Not with a cacophony of sound or light. But instead in the way wind breaths through the trees. Fireflies light up the air bringing the stars from the heavens down to the world below. With them comes the whole expanse of space above them and their moment stills in time. The fireflies twinkle above the little clearing and to them comes the guardians.

Baron Bear whose hide is littered with arrows. Protector of the mountain border and bringer of spring. Who would sleep all year since the rival forest has long since fallen silent and the need for protection from them ceased to exist if he did not need to bring spring to the remaining tribe under their watchful care.

The Duke of Deer, who made sure that no one under their branches went hungry. Who carried every type of seed upon his antlers, who communed with trees and kept a watchful eye over his herd.

The Earl of Eagles, keeper of the weather. Who kept the winds in check for his fellow avian friends. Who saw to it that the rains were plentiful in times of need and kept the heat contained to the meadow and away from the mountain or the town.

Beautiful Mystic Mountain Lion. Who, if you could catch or convince not to eat you, would give you a prophecy of either great triumph or tragedy with ten seconds to run in case her hungry stomach changed her mind about turning you into the next meal.

Grand Owl, knower of things, holder, stealer, giver of memories, whose job was to settle disputes amongst their people. Known for giving quests that would lead the quester to great wealth. Whether that be knowledge, emotional or intrinsic was all up to the quester.

From the sky came the Ravaging Raven joined by his friend the Festal Fox appearing out of the shadows, both find perch just above the grave. The pair often went together, playing pranks and causing mischief. Their chief job was the shepherding the dead of the forest, to decide whether the souls were to be reborn or to be cast into the shadows below the mountain.

Lastly came their leader to round out their council. A spectral animal, glowing in an otherworldly way, known to them as their Worldly Wolf, who saw all, knew all, and was all. He led them, not with a firm grip, but a firm virtuousness. He was a fair and just ruler who helped all he could and punished those who needed it.

With the Council gathered the silence fell again. The night birds and mice fled the clearing, the wind blew down to the meadow to play with the grass and falling leaves and the moon came out from hiding, beaming down upon the little gathering waiting to hear its decision.

Why do you mourn her, brother?

The voice both came from the Wolf and didn't. The words appeared in the air and were seemingly heard by all. The fallen dog lifted his head up noticing the committee for the first time. He was too tired and too sore to be scared or act startled. He didn't even bother to stand up.

"She was my pack mate," he answers. "We did everything together, she was my purpose. I was to protect her and I failed."

His breath comes out in visible puffs, clouds of misery exhaling from him kicking up the dust from her grave.

The council exchange words through their eyes. Each putting forth a question to ask next.

Was she good?

The dog seems to pause, his breathing coming to a shuddering halt before answering. "Good to me. Good to those who deserved it. A good girl. The goodest girl. My girl."

The word biased comes at them from all corners and the Wolf nods to the two waiting by her head. The Raven plucks her left eye out of her skull, the fox sucks up the right. The guardians wait to hear their verdict as the dog cries over her further mutilation.

"A Pure girl," the Raven says at last.

"A volatile girl," the Fox adds.

Explain.

And the two began to speak in an exchange of words split between them.

A girl who was filled with kindness for her people but a bigger kindness for her woods. A girl who scooped up an injured eagle and mended its wing. Then cried when she set it free. A girl who goes about freeing rabbits and other vermin from poacher traps. A girl who runs through the trees pretending to be a deer so she can see the magic of the trees from their point of view.

A girl who slashed the tires of a known poacher so he couldn't get away before the rangers showed up. A girl who gave tourists the wrong directions when she overheard them talking about taking down our oldest trees to decorate their homes. Then cried when one of them fell half off the mountain. A girl who cut off a rival's ponytail then felt so bad she cut off her own hair to match.

A girl who gave her heart and soul to a boy. Gave all of herself to that boy, a boy she loved more than life. Half of her lies with him, half of him beats in her. A girl who protected fiercely, both her friends and family. A girl who lashed out of loyalty, who helped despite the consequences. A girl who gave her life trying to stop a monster. A girl, who in her dying breaths, thought only to see her family, to pet her dog, to kiss her boy. A good girl. A pure girl. A volatile girl.

But was it enough? Was her goodness enough to warrant the gift they thought to give her? They needed a champion. Someone to give them a voice, to be heard by the ones that were changing their world without thinking about the consequences to the forest.

A swell breaks through the trees and they all know that she's been accepted. The dog lifts his head and stares at them all, his bleary eyes boring into them, even he knows what they're about to do.

The guardians all step up to give her pieces of them, each a small piece of their knowing. The Worldly Wolf stepped up last for it was he who had to give the most. He takes a part of himself to give to them and then divides his half between the two, one for the girl and one for her dog, an inseparable pair to be joined again. And with that last piece the forest breathed a new life into the girl.

She sits up in her grave, gasping. Her lacerations closed, her hands go to her empty eyes, and a sound breaks through, a whimper of confusion, a momentary memory of pain. Grand Owl perches on her shoulder and begins. He takes her memories, all the ones that he can find. He takes the pain, he takes the horror, and he takes the anger. He takes the moments of love passed between her and a copper haired boy. He takes the laughing memories of a child and mother long since gone. He takes all that he can until she can't remember what she was before this clearing.

She opens her eyes and her sight has been restored to her. Her eyes no longer green but flashing a gauzy silver in the dark night amongst a million yellow twinkling lights.

From now on your name is Silver. Named for our trees. Silver of every kind. You are our protector. You have much to learn about our ways. They are your ways now. Just as this is your forest. Yours to protect.

She is silent for a moment. Her fingers go to the dog beside her, he too has been healed through the magic of the forest and he sits patiently beside her as her fingers thread through his matted fur. She whispers his name, a memory she has somehow managed to retain, or maybe she reads it on his collar. But she knows him, knows he's hers, and she's happy to have him with her.

She doesn't question her circumstances. She doesn't ask about clothes, or food, or the scratchiness of her throat or the burn from sternum to stomach. She pulls herself out of the dirt, shaking her roots free and leaves the past in that hole. It is with the stumbling steps of a new born dear that she follows a glowing spectral wolf out of the clearing.

The Guardians leave with them as the fireflies ascend to the heavens above taking the dreadful stillness with them. But Baron Bear doesn't pad back to his cave to sleep the upcoming winter away. The forest pulls at him in a dreadful, almost desperate way. He finds himself at the scene of the attack, where an evil intersected with an innocent youth and stole her life from her. He finds the boy, memories stolen, the fire in his soul all but extinguished, the raven circling above waiting for the soft pulsing in his chest to stop to come in and claim the lost soul.

Baron Bear doesn't know much about the boy, or the power that he could wield. He knows the forest has brought him here for a reason and so, without knowing that his memories have already been tampered with to make his passing easier, he breathes a new meaning to life into him.

Revenge.

When his rescuers find him, he's barely alive, with a giant bear standing over him on that muddy stretch of road side. The bear doesn't seem scared by the shots fired into the air, it hasn't bit him or seems all that interested in attacking him, and when the people come close it shambles back into the forest.

The forest breathes a sigh of relief. Two liveshave been shattered. Diverted from an intertwined path, sent separate ways. Butif it got its way they wouldn't be for long.