Lisle woke just as the first hints of dawn lightened the eastern sky. She felt a little stiff from her night on the rock beside the Guardian, but deeply contented. She was surprised by how warm the Guardian felt against her back as she curled a little closer to escape the early morning chill. The Guardian slept peacefully.

Looking up to check on her, Lisle noticed a small bit of bright green on the inside curve of the sleeping hatchling’s forearm. She looked closer and saw translucent wings folded back over a tiny sleeping body, and a fuzz of moss-green hair. Day of the One, small one, thought Lisle. You should have a name. I’ll call you Moss. Day of the One, Moss, Lisle thought to the tiny sleeper. Moss didn’t seem to notice. She slept on, undisturbed.

The Guardian stirred and lifted her head. She looked sleepily at Lisle, eyes half closed.

Ðay of th…the… One,” said Lisle softly. A slow closing and opening of the Guardian’s eyes was the only answer. Lisle felt inside for that wrenching hunger of yesterday. She felt only her own normal, morning hunger. None of that twisting torment. The Guardian must not be hungry yet, she thought. I am though. I forgot to eat mid-day and end-day yesterday. And I’ve got chores to do!

Lisle wanted to communicate what she needed to do today with the hatchling but the length of words and the idea of stumbling through them stopped her. Instead, she knelt before the Guardian and gently touched her forehead to the warm, smooth, scales between the hatchling’s eyes.

I’ve got to go back to the cottage now and let Mina know we are alright. I’ve got a lot of chores to do. I’ll be back to hunt for you soon. Send Moss here if you need anything. She pointed at the sleeping form on the Guardian’s forearm.

She sat up and said more slowly, aloud, “I’ll b…b…be back ll…l…later w…with ff…f…food.”

The Guardian gazed at Lisle then put her head down and closed her eyes. Lisle wasn’t sure if the hatchling had understood her, but she looked content. Lisle turned and headed off toward the cottage.

Arriving back at a cottage shrouded in an early morning mist, she quickly fed the clucking, hungry layers, and filled their water trough. She looked up to see if smoke rose from the chimney of the cottage but saw nothing. Mina must still be asleep. Maybe I can sneak in before she wakes.

She opened the door gently and saw Mina, asleep in the rocker beside the hearth, her mouth slightly open and a soft flutter of breath moving the edge of a woven blanket that covered her.

Stepping inside Lisle closed the door softly, and tip-toed around Mina to search for something to eat. Her stomach was complaining in earnest now.

Mina startled up. “Lisle! There you are! I was worried when you didn’t come home. There are night singers out there you know.” She rubbed reddened eyes.

“S…sorry.” Lisle looked at Mina, her hands twisting in her overdress. “N…no nuh..night singers, M…Mina.”

“Well, there could have been. I was scared for you.”

Lisle looked down, scuffing her toe on the floor. “Sss..sorry,” she mumbled, and she was. She didn’t like to worry Mina.

“Well, never mind. Did you feed the Guardian? Is it alright?

“Uh…I hu…hunted. Fuh…fed her.”

“Her is it? And she ate? From your hand? Well, that’s something then. You must be hungry. I’ll start the porridge. You make up the fire.”

Lisle happily set to, then stopped, fire poker in hand, as Mina, standing, gave her a quick, hard hug.

“I’m glad you’re home safe.”

Lisle put the poker down and hugged her back, feeling such love for her sister well up inside.

“L…love you, Mina.”

“Well…” said Mina. Swiping at eyes suddenly teary, she turned away to fold the blanket she had been using over the back of the rocker and smoothed her dress. Then she clattered about grabbing a pot and filling it with grain and water, as Lisle built up the fire from the morning’s coals.

Porridge ladled out with syrupy spoonful’s of sweetener on top, Mina and Lisle sat at the small table to eat. Lisle was hungry and shoveled the warm, sweet cereal into her mouth. Looking up she saw Mina watching her.

“W…what?”

“I looked in Ma-Marn’s Book of One yesterday.” Mina got up to fetch the book from where she’d left it on the lid of the chest. Moving her bowl aside she placed it on the table, her hands resting on the cover. “Do you remember the chapter about raising a Guardian?”

“N…n…no,” muttered Lisle through another mouthful of porridge.

“It says that the Guardian will only eat meat that has been hunted in a special way. Here, I’ll read it to you.”

Lisle stopped eating, her spoon half-way to her mouth, suddenly afraid she’d got it wrong somehow.

“Go ahead and eat. The Guardian ate didn’t she? You must have done it right.”

Mina read.

“A new-hatched Guardian cannot hunt for itself. It relies completely on it’s Contracted to feed it. It will eat from the hand of no other. Even until it’s second skin must the Guardian rely upon it’s Contracted for sustenance. Thus, may the Contracted be recognized.

The Contracted must hunt, for the infant Guardian will only eat meat willingly offered by a creature of the One. It must be hunted in the sacred way, with reverence for the sacrifice. Thus, the Guardian and all benefit from the loving gift of the One. It is so and has always been thus.”

Mina closed the book. “If she ate what you hunted for her, you have to be her Contracted Lisle, and you must be hunting the right way. How’d you know how to do that?”

Lisle looked at Mina, feeling both gratified and slightly confused.

“Uh…I don’t kn…know?”

“Well, you’d better get back out there and feed her. I’ll take care of your chores today.”

Smiling and nodding, Lisle, hastily spooned the rest of her porridge into her mouth in one huge mouthful, cheeks expanding like a tree climber, and jumped up from the table. Clattering her dishes in the wash pan, she dashed out the door, swallowing hard several times to get it all down.

Remembering herself then, she dashed back through the still closing door, and kissed Mina on the cheek.

“Th…th…thank you!" She breathed, then turned to run back to where her heart lay sleeping in the early morning sun.