Samson pressed their paws against the rough bark and peered up at the golden droplets forming on the lowest branch. The honey tree stood in a clearing, its sweet scent filling the air. Other animals would come soon, hungry and careless. Samson wanted to be different. They wanted to guard these trees, to keep them safe and thriving. One day, they would protect every honey tree in Luna. But first, they needed to know where all the honey trees grew. Samson adjusted their orange scarf and started walking. The forest stretched out in every direction, thick with shadows and undergrowth. They needed height. A tall wooden platform rose ahead, its planks weathered but sturdy. Samson climbed the ladder, paw over paw, until they reached the top. From up high, the forest spread out like a golden map. Samson spotted three clusters of honey trees in the distance, their branches dripping with amber sweetness. Bees circled each group in lazy spirals. More trees than Samson had ever imagined. They pulled out a small piece of bark and scratched marks onto it with a claw, making a rough map. Back on the ground, Samson found a wooden perch near the first honey tree. A bee sat on it, wings still. Samson circled the perch, then practiced lunging forward and blocking with their arms. Again and again, they moved their body through defensive positions. Their muscles burned. Sweat dampened their fur. But when the sun began to set, Samson stood taller. They knew where the trees were. They knew how to start training. The work of becoming a protector had begun.

Samson woke before dawn and headed straight for the nearest honey tree. They needed to learn the patterns of the forest. When did bees arrive? When did other animals come searching for sweetness? Samson sat cross-legged at the base of the trunk and waited. The first bees arrived when the sky turned pink. They buzzed in slow circles, landing on branches heavy with honey. Samson pulled out the Book of Protection for the Honey from their satchel. The golden honeycomb patterns on the cover caught the morning light. Inside, diagrams showed how honey trees grew and how their roots spread deep. Other pages explained which animals helped the trees and which ones caused harm. Samson traced the drawings with one claw, memorizing each detail. A squirrel scurried up the trunk at midday. It grabbed at the dripping honey, knocking chunks of bark loose. Golden drops splattered onto the ground, wasted. Samson stood and placed a bucket beneath the heaviest branch. The honey collected there instead, filling the container with amber sweetness. The squirrel watched, chittered once, then moved to a different tree. As the sun dropped low, Samson attached a small bell shaped like a bee to a thin rope. They tied the rope between two trees near the honey tree's base. Anyone walking through at night would bump it. The bell would ring and wake them. Samson settled against the trunk, the book resting on their lap. Tomorrow they would learn more. But today, they had begun to truly understand what protecting meant.