Numble's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Numble guarded the alpine trees, and he refused to share their fruit with the unworthy. He was half wolf, half man, with gray fur on his arms and a snout that curled when he growled. Each morning he walked the grove and counted the glowing fruit. Each fruit could heal a wound or break a fever. He wanted only one thing for himself: a quiet cabin under these trees, warm and safe, where he could rest and still keep watch. But strangers kept coming to steal, and Numble kept turning them away. This morning a hunter stood beneath the tallest tree. She wore black armor that hummed with blue light. A strange metal bow hung across her back, sharp and glowing. She reached up for a fruit without asking. Numble stepped from the pines. "Stop," he snarled. "No one takes the fruit unless I say so." The hunter did not flinch. She turned and studied him with cold eyes. "I'm Ava," she said. "And I don't ask permission from dogs." Her words stung. Numble bared his teeth. "Then you get nothing. Leave." "I can't," Ava said. She lowered her hand from the branch. Her voice cracked, just once. "My little brother is dying. Fever. The healers gave up. This fruit is the last thing left." Numble had heard many lies. He watched her face for the flicker of one. He found none. Her hands shook, not from fear, but from exhaustion. She had walked a long way. "Prove it," he said. "The worthy don't beg. They give. What will you give?" Ava pulled the metal bow from her back. She held it out on both palms. "This is worth more than my life. Take it. Just let me have one fruit." Numble stared at the weapon. He did not want it. But the offer told him what he needed to know. She would trade her greatest thing to save someone weaker than herself. That was worthy. He reached up and plucked a single glowing fruit. He pressed it into her hands and pushed the bow back toward her. "Keep your weapon. Take the fruit. Go save him." Ava blinked. For a moment the cold left her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. Then she turned and ran down the slope, fast and silent. A shadow slid across the grove. Numble looked up. A winged serpent circled above the trees, its scales dark green, its wings pale and wide. It landed on a high branch and coiled there, watching him with bright blue eyes. It had followed the hunter, or the fruit. Numble had never seen such a creature. It did not try to eat the fruit. It only stared, as if it had chosen this grove for its own. Numble tightened his grip and stepped forward. His quiet cabin would have to wait. Now he had a new guest to judge, and this one had wings.