Tutelary Daimon

        There was no way Tyson could’ve seen the rock placed precariously in his path. The young raccoon was asleep at the switch well before his foot slid over the rock that made him tumble onto the hardpack. For a terrifying time in which he was all but lost within a miasma of panicked distortion, he was not his own.

        “Where am I?” the eight year-old quietly asked himself upon regaining consciousness.  

        Tyson tried to move his arms and legs, but all that movement only served to make him nauseous. Tyson dared not move his head all that much. The boy felt a cool dampness flooding down the side of his face, and that impression elicited a primal reaction that made him want to avoid touching it. From his position in the dirt, the young raccoon saw that his body had crumpled up against the remains of an old, rusty car. He could smell the scent of decay mingling with the pleasant, earthy aromas of the forest floor. The forest was seemingly bathed in the glow of shimmering stardust, and a sharp, persistent whine echoed through his skull and between the trees.

       “How’d I get here?” Tyson muttered. Brushing away his blond bangs, he attempted to keep his eyes open longer to take in a better view. But his eyes soon snapped shut when the deep, persistent pain of a migraine headache and the accompanying disorientation became too bothersome to bear.

       He couldn’t quite remember how he’d walked so many miles away from his neighborhood and this far into an unfamiliar forest. Everything until now was a red blur of angry shouting and thoughts of frenetic violence. The fugue had taken him far away from civilization to a strange place deep within the forest that looked more alien the longer he observed it. It was a dry riverbed littered with a graveyard’s worth of old cars orderly arranged along the banks as if to create a path. There was but a single moment that lingered in his memory before that screaming voice overtook his will. It was the memory of a girl. She was a lynx around the same age, and she was frightened. Tyson could see her sprinting into the forest interior. Her face was alight with fear.

       “Daeja! I gotta find her,” the raccoon mumbled, prying his eyes open.

       Tyson’s whole body shook as he lifted his head off the car’s rusty frame and stared into the sky. He could see that the blue sky had since lost its luster with the coming dusk. The color was deepening perceptively as the orange and red colors of sunset began to quickly disappear.

       “Hey kid,” a voice suddenly called out from above, “what’re you doing out here?”

       The young raccoon craned his head to the side and saw what could’ve been an apparition staring down at him amid the wreckage and dreary overgrowth. The voice came from that of an impeccably dressed stoat in an overcoat and corduroy pants. He had ostensibly materialized out of the ether and stood out of place among the ruins in his yellow Chuck Taylors. The ermine seemed to interact with the environment like a mirage, but he nonetheless, exuded a tangible presence that felt real and wholly autonomous. The ermine just didn’t belong there with his formal attire, youthful visage and immaculate white fur. The stoat then knelt beside Tyson and beheld the boy in his icy blue eyes with a look of thoughtful apprehension.

       “Did somebody hurt you?” he asked as he tenderly placed a paw on the boy’s shoulder. The stylish stoat used the other paw to cradle the boy’s head as he looked for signs of injury. He then gently turned the boy’s head away from the frame while Tyson struggled to stay coherent.

       “I’m here to help, okay? I need you to relax. I think you’ll feel better if you take it easy. What’s your name, dude?” asked the ermine in a quiet, calming cadence.

       “Tyson,” the young raccoon answered, shuddering in pain from under his black hoodie.

       “Nice to meet you, Tyson. My name’s Trace.”

       “Trace?” the boy asked, his brow furrowed with bewilderment. “Are you Reese’s friend?”

       “Reese?” the apparition reiterated. “No,” he pondered with much deliberation. But a terrible truth dawned for the ermine as he tried to evoke memories of old. “At least, I don’t think so. Come to think of it, I don’t remember much of anything. Who’s this Reese guy anyway?”

       “I’ve known Reese forever. He’s like my oldest friend, but he’s not here,” Tyson replied with a tone brimming with discontent and disappointment. But there was more to be told than simple regret. The child was on the verge of tears. “I don’t know where he is. Reese should be here. But he’s gone.”

       “You didn’t come here be yourself did you?”

       “No, Daeja.” the boy slurred, suddenly recollecting his first train of thought. “She’s gone, too.”

       Tyson then grimaced as Trace slightly shifted his head in hand from one side to the other.

       “I don’t want to scare you, but I think you’ve got a bad concussion.”
Tyson tried to train his eyes on the mysterious man, but the unrelenting background noise erupted into a sudden shriek that tore open his skull with dazzling lights and unbearable pressure.

       “Oh G-g-g-g—“, the ermine stammered while he examined a nasty head wound that had revealed itself. “G-g-g-g—od. You’re bleeding badly. We need to get you out of here.”

       “No, we can’t!” Tyson desperately pleaded. “I think something’s wrong. She’s in danger! Reese’ll be here soon. I just know it. He’ll help us look!”

       In his panic, Tyson searched the sky again for some sign of revelation. His pleas were silenced when he saw that its former brightness had returned. It was as if the lingering twilight had been reversed. For the moment the changing, heavenly tide had the young raccoon enraptured in an indescribable awe. The dark blue patina had been banished in lieu of a bright yellow light that was strengthening by the second.

       “Right now, I need to get you home,” Trace insisted. “You might need to go to the hospital, Tyson. I’ll call the police when I get a hold of your parents. We will find your friend. I’ll tell you that much. I bet good money she’s already home. Probably got her parents to call the police for us. So don’t worry about it.”

       “Please,” Tyson weakly begged, his eyes still hypnotized by the strengthening light. By this point all signs of the coming night had completely eroded. The sky above now resembled how it appeared several hours ago in the afternoon. “Help me. I can’t leave Daeja behind.”

       The ermine ignored Tyson’s request, pulled out a linen cloth from his pocket and pressed it against the wound. “Here. You need to keep this here, dude. You need to hold it there real tight. Understand? I don’t even care if you get blood on it,” Trace warmly laughed. “The only thing I want you to do is keep still and hang on.”

       Trace slowly pulled Tyson off the ground and onto his back. Wrapping the boy’s arms around his neck, he made sure the child was secure.

       “C’mon. Let’s get you home. I’m sure Reese is there waiting for you.”

       As the stylish stoat began to follow the riverbed path, he, too, at last took notice of the encompassing, ethereal light that had now filtered throughout the canopy in a stunning spectacle of red and orange hues.

       “What the hell is happening?” the ermine spoke softly under his breath, sounding as if his quiet resolve was about to abandon him.

       For a few fleeting seconds, glints of hope gleamed in the boy’s amber eyes as he earnestly asked, “You think they’ll be there once we get out? You think they’re safe?”

       “I’m positive,” the ermine encouraged, “You seem like a good kid to me, Tyson. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of people back home who’d worry about you if you ever went missing.”

       Trace and Tyson didn’t get much further down the path before their escape was halted by a baffling sight. An open flame had arisen from nowhere. Incensed into existence, it roared to life in midair with a frightful force that caused the ermine to gasp in fear. Unfortunately, there was no time to try and make sense of the wondrous horror. The living fire suddenly billowed with the wind, folded upon itself and bent into the unnatural shape and character of a living creature. In fact, it bore an unmistakable resemblance to a person with pointed ears and a long tail. Trace kept his gaze fixed on the open flame’s face and the two violet formless blotches that were likely its eyes. The experience was wholly unreal and horrific. It was a man consumed by a blazing inferno building upon itself with horrendous ferocity slowly moving toward them with a steady, single-minded devotion.

       “Stay back,” said the ermine hoarsely, stepping backward to create some distance. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

       With every step backward, the sentient flame took one step forward. Even though his eyes were firmly fixed on the fiery face, Trace couldn’t help but notice that the approaching fire didn’t burn his skin or singe his fur with each new step. Strangely, the flame didn’t even scorch the ground upon which it walked.

       “Please. I don’t know what you what want, but please don’t hurt the kid.”

       The ermine slowly took to one knee and lowered the young raccoon back onto the hardpack.

       Trace never broke his focus with monster’s eyes as he rose to meet the blistering being.

       “I don’t care what you do to me,” said Trace defiantly with newfound resilience. He then extended his arms out to ensure that his entire body could guard the child. “Take me if you want. Just please don’t hurt Tyson.”

      The creature promptly answered the ermine by shooting out its arm to grab Trace by the throat in a powerful vice grip. The ermine choked as the living fire first pulled him closer then raised him high into the air. The stoat swung helplessly as the open flame began to run its course over Trace’s body. For the ermine, the pain was excruciating and unfathomable. Trace had been effectively cast into the Sun’s core, and it was methodically baking him alive with ruthless efficiency. The stoat stared in abject terror as he watched the fur and skin along his arms appear to crack as the fires finally ensnared the entirety of his being under the pressure of a collapsing star.

       Tyson trembled in the presence of the blistering being’s violence. The young raccoon almost couldn’t manage a single word in protest, but the kit felt the urgent need to speak on Trace’s behalf.

       “Don’t! Please,” he breathlessly petitioned, “don’t kill him. He was only trying to help.”

       The boy was now barely clinging to consciousness, and afterwards the only thing he could do was openly sob at the awful sight before him. Tyson himself wasn’t sure where this drive originated, but nevertheless, the young raccoon felt an almost irrepressible urge to defend the ermine with what little remained of his measly strength. Tyson was so immersed in the moment that he failed to notice a strong flash of white light erupt from his left wrist.

       “Please don’t hurt him.”

       Miraculously, the creature seemed to take note. Not only did it react to the whimpering child, but the entity also acknowledged the source of this superb radiance. Its head tilted slightly, and the violet blotches observed the young raccoon with an expression that was neither anger nor consternation. Tyson should’ve been more afraid, but his fear soon subsided as the fire focused upon him and their eyes met. Tyson sighed with great relief as the sentient flame then loosened its grip, sheathed its heat and gently placed the ermine on the ground nearby.

       “Thank you,” said Tyson meagerly in a small, feeble voice.

       Just then the earth shook and the wind gusted in a torrential surge. The violet blotches suddenly evaporated from the fiery face and the encircling light within the forest grew to a blinding intensity. The young raccoon watched through shielded eyes as that living fire grew brighter and brighter until it exploded in an awesome display of might that left the forest with its natural order restored. Dusk had once again been returned to skies above.

       Tyson sat in shock as his breath and nerves soon sought to reorient themselves. The only violet blotches the boy could see now were the many sunspots that were burned into his vision by the vanishing sight. Thankfully, everything came back into sharp focus once Tyson heard Trace cough and hack back to life.

       “Trace!” he cried, grabbing the ermine by the shoulders. “You’re alive.”

       “I’m okay, Tyson. I’m okay,” the stoat wheezed. “That thing almost killed me. Is it gone?”

       “Yeah, it’s gone,” said Tyson with weak reassurance.

       “Good. We need to get you home now. This place is dangerous.”

       The ermine then stumbled to his feet, coughing as he fought to regain his stance. “It’ll be okay,” spoke Trace with authority.

       The stylish stoat turned around to face the boy, and Tyson was startled to see that his once kind face was now devilish in appearance. The tranquil, frigid blue of Trace’s eyes had been replaced with a furious blend of red and orange. His open mouth now brandished a menacing set of jagged, wicked teeth. But even then, Tyson wasn’t afraid. He was only startled by the sudden change. And it was this reaction and his understanding of it that really astonished him even now as he was on the verge of unconsciousness.  

       “I promise you, Tyson. I’ll keep you safe.”