The Guardian

I stand at the edge of the world — my world.

Waiting.

For what? I don’t know. I never know what may be coming. What darkness may be lurking in the shadows of the trees. What evil may be creeping toward my fortress as dusk approaches.

There is no way to know what may happen. But I must be prepared for it.

So I wait here. The sun rises. The sun sets. Night comes.

Still I wait.

I’ll never leave. Because the danger will always remain. My world must be protected.

My ears swivel to the left. Suddenly all my senses are razor sharp. I don’t breathe.

There it is. The sound, as faint as a leaf landing on the snow. The sound of quiet, steady breathing.

Something is coming.

I rise. My teeth are bared. A silent snarl curls my lips. There will be no warning.

I am the guardian of my world.

Nothing is allowed to pass.