Great Sage Above Brockton 2.13 [Worm/Chinese Myth]

When the prince heard this, he opened his mouth wide and expostulated, "You brazen demon! You are truly audacious! Let's not ask the Great Sage Sun to face you. Do you dare hold a contest with me?" 

"If I want to be a hero,' said the fiend, "you think I'll be afraid of any contest?" He shouted to his little fiends, "Bring me my armor!" His cry immediately made those little fiends on his left and right bring up his armor and the steel crop. Changing their colors all at once, the two of them unleashed their strength and gave the order for the drums to sound on both sides. This battle was quite different from the previous one in which Sha Monk took part. 

[...]

Holding his three-cornered club, the prince feigned an opening and the monster-spirit, not realizing that it was faked, lunged forward to attack. Sidestepping quickly from his opponent's charge, the prince brought the club down hard on the monster-spirit's right arm and knocked him to the ground. The prince rushed up to him and gave him another kick that sent him sprawling. The marine soldiers all surged forward to pin the monster spirit to the ground; his arms were hog-tied behind his back, and his chest bone was pierced and bound with an iron chain. He was taken up to the shore to appear before Pilgrim Sun, as the prince said, "Great Sage, your little dragon has caught the monster iguana. Let the Great Sage decide what shall be done with him."

• Journey to the West, chapter 43

-x-

Embarrassment wasn’t a stranger to Taylor Hebert.

At Winslow, she’d drowned in it enough times to the point where she’d grown numb to the flushing of her cheeks, and instead shoved it aside and tried not to let it show on her, lest she provoke another round of harassment. But it was all the result of Emma and her insidious web, woven around Taylor to trip her up and drag her down an endless abyss of despair.

Right now? She deserved every second of that burning flush. 

Because outing herself as a cape to a Nazi over a mispronunciation so common it was engraved in her mind was a stupid fucking move.

“Who wants to know?” she said, trying to maintain both her composure and her fighting stance.

“Kaiser, for one. You really shook up the hornet’s nest.” The bald leader of the Empire mooks smirked and crossed his arms. “Some of the students in that shithole Winslow were concerned for a bullied classmate, and that video on social media mightily pissed us off. A nigger dyke beating up a white girl? That ain’t the natural order of things, no sir.” He spat to the side. “If it wasn’t for the fact that she’s a Ward, she’d be dangling from a tree by now. At least she’s out of the picture, even if a chink monkey had to do the job.”

Taylor paused at his words. Sophia was gone? ‘But there was nothing on the news. No trial, no investigation, nothing. I saw some of the newspapers, and it was all about Wukong and the property damage. Mr. Luo would’ve told me if something came up…what happened to her?’ 

A darker voice followed up on those thoughts. ‘Isn’t it obvious? You really think the ‘heroes’ are gonna change their tune after one little video?’

“But you’ve been offered a chance to get even, girl. Consider this your lucky day. Kaiser and the lieutenants said to bring you to them if we ever spotted you. If you want payback, the Empire can help. You’ll get the full package, whatever you need. We’ve connections all over the country, ones that can help you with your fancy new powers. You could walk into a house filled with every chink, nigger and brownie under the sun and they’d beg to lick the sweat off yer toes. Just say the word, and everyone who’s so much as shot you a stink eye will be six feet under. This ain’t an offer we extend to anyone, so I suggest you consider it carefully.”

A frown overcame her, snuffing the dark whisper. “I mean this with full offense, but I’d rather take my chances swimming naked and bleeding in a shark tank than trust the word of nazis. Especially scumbags like Kaiser and his ilk. Your kind don’t exactly have the best reputation for keeping promises.”

The skinhead gritted his teeth at her, the sneer warping his tattoos. He adjusted his leather jacket, flashing a metal handle from behind his back. “Watch your tongue, bitch. Brush us off and you’ll be on our shitlist. Kaiser isn’t the type to accept a no to his offers. Wherever you go, the Empire will find you.”

Her golden wings bristled at the threat, and she didn’t doubt he was bluffing. The E88 didn’t take insults lying down, and Wukong had thrown the mother of all pies in their face. She didn’t believe that Kaiser knew about their connection beyond rescuer and rescuee, and hoped he wouldn’t for a while. Otherwise, they would tear the whole city apart just to get to them, PRT and other consequences be damned. 

But even as the chill of dread crept up Taylor’s spine, the amused voice of her teacher rang loud and clear in her head.

‘How else would you describe an army’s worth of training dummies?’

…screw it.

“Bring it on. That’ll just save me the trouble of chasing you down.”

A hiss escaped from the leader’s clenched teeth even as his remaining cronies froze. This was it. She’d changed from potential recruit to walking target.

‘Good riddance.’

“Your funeral.”

His finger twitched, and the mook to his left reached into his belt. Squinting, she ran toward him and spun around. The wings sliced through the air and struck the man, knocking him clean into the street and hacking up spittle. A strangled cry alerted her to the leader and his friend, who’d abandoned any pretense and bolted away. Up in the distance, two Asian women walking by stopped, petrified at the incoming gangsters.

If they reached them-

Even if not, she wouldn’t take that chance. 

Taylor sprinted toward the Empire thugs, who were surprisingly fast. She didn’t know if she could overtake them, but nonetheless kept running. The leader’s head perked up and he reached for his belt -

NO!

Recalling her lessons and gathering as much qi as she could, Taylor jumped and twisted, her wings following her in an arc of light - 

And erupting in a storm of golden leaves. 

Flying through the air, they collided against the skinheads’ jackets and shredded through them. They yelled in pain and rolled over, curling up into fetal positions and clutching their bleeding backs.

Taylor gaped as the leaves finished shredding the last pieces of their jackets before flying toward her. She braced herself for impact, but the leaves whirled around her and their rattling calmed down, now resembling soft windchimes. They reached her back and reformed into her wings, leaving her standing alone with broken bodies of neo-nazis strewn up and down the street.

‘So that’s why it dissolves into leaves.’ She angled her head and sent a pulse to her wings, causing rippling scale-like patterns to appear along their faces. ‘Wait, could I always do that?’ 

Rolling her shoulders, Taylor was momentarily mesmerized at the sight of her wings fluttering up and down in wavy motions. ‘Adjustable hardness and sharpness, and now they can break apart, fly off, and reform? That’s…useful. It should help with subduing enemies at a longer range…holy shit, I did that just now.’

She turned around and beheld the twitching bodies and pained groans of Empire Eighty-Eight foot soldiers. Any trace of arrogance and pigheaded superiority was long gone, lost in the haze of bruises and broken bones.

‘I did it…I actually did it!’ She couldn’t help but fist in the air with triumph, a full-blown grin creeping from behind her neck warmer. ‘I’m not helpless! I’m not a victim! I’m not WEAK! I took down Nazis and saved people! How’d you like that, Emma!?’ 

Hushed whispers drew her from her self-adulation, and her face paled as the Asian girls, who instead of running away, had taken out their phones and held them up in her direction. Above her windows opened and curious neighbors looked down, gasping at the defeated Nazis, and then at her.

‘...oh right. Giant glowing wings.’

Taylor immediately turned around and ran, retracting her wings as she did. Ignoring the surprised cries and sudden stares, she moved as far away from prying eyes as she could. When she reached a secluded alley, away from any shops or hangouts, she finally sighed and slumped against a wall, only to wince and jump forward as the cold, coarse brick rubbed against her back.

‘Great. Another hoodie ruined,’ she reached around as far as she could and massaged her exposed skin. After adjusting her glasses - thank God they didn’t fall off - she huffed and kicked a stray can, tucking her hands into her pockets. 

“At least I did something good today,” she whispered to herself. Closing her eyes, she felt the energy circulating, offering a small measure of warmth against the winter air. “Maybe he wasn’t completely joking when he said I could do this.”

“On what specific matter did this Old Sun joke about, if he may ask?”

“GAH!” Taylor swerved around and readied herself, only for her face to fall flat at the sight of Wukong’s amused grin. “Oh come on, can you not do that?!”

“And miss out on a chance for some fun? Hardly. Not to mention your awareness needs honing,” he tutted and shook his head, hands behind his back. “Never let your guard down, even when you think the danger has passed.”

Eyeing the sidewalk with newfound interest, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. One would think that dodging meteor-speed balls and stupid spring-loaded training posts would help with said awareness. 

Wukong just kept smiling and leaned against the wall with his shoulder.

“Quite the scuffle you’ve thrown yourself into, dear girl,” he said. “And it’s barely been your first day outside our usual routine. It seems excitement is drawn to you as the moth is drawn to the lantern’s light.”

Pulling down her neckwarmer to ease her breath, she caught onto the last part of the sentence. “Wait, you knew I was outside this whole time?”

“Perish the thought! I am no voyeur!” he replied with hands in surrender before whipping out his music player. “I was partaking of the selection of audible delights our dear host gifted me, a rather spirited collection of a music style called blues. I happened to be in the middle of enjoying a rather upbeat tune sung by one styling himself after a rabid species of canine when I overheard your fervent battle cries.”

Her mind blanking after failing to deduce which singer Wukong was referring to, Taylor bit her lip and shifted on her toes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan for it to happen; I just wanted to get out of the house for a bit. I was on my way back, but then I saw the Nazis ganging up on those teenagers. I couldn’t just ignore them.”

“And a valiant and noble deed you have accomplished by coming to their aid.” Wukong reached over and gently gripped her shoulder. “Never feel shame for that, disciple. I do wish you’d consulted me before rushing off, however.” He then glanced upwards and chuckled. “Though this Old Sun should watch his words and not laugh at a mirror.”

Nodding meekly, Taylor inwardly smiled at the compliment. It was…no, she wasn’t so desperate, was she?

“Now, would you mind telling this Old Sun the reason for that silly order of headgear?”

She eeped and pulled down her hood, exposing the woolen cap. It was actually warmer than she’d thought; she was sweating buckets! “I wanted to disguise myself in case the police or the gangs came looking,” she said, then snorted. “Fat load of good it did.”

“Yes, golden wings are rather…recognizable, I’m afraid. Do you intend to dress in such a manner outside our little circle of friends all the time on future excursions?”

Taylor stared at him, confused, and scratched her temple. “Um…yeah?”

“Even though people can easily divine who you are? Why?”

“It’s a…cape thing,” she replied, rubbing the back of her neck. “I read about it on Mr. Luo’s phone after your fight with Armsmaster.” It was still jarring to think that he tangoed with a Protectorate hero with armed support and won, but after beating Lung, she guessed that everything else didn’t seem like much of a challenge to him anymore. And hearing how he came to Sophia’s aid at school, it raised more than a few question marks. “New Wave has public identities, like Glory Girl and Panacea, but it’s a general rule that capes should protect their civilian identity.”

“Glory Girl? Ah yes, the sunhaired flyer! I see her sometimes flying around the glass spires. I thought of sending a greeting her way, but I have a suspicion she won’t receive it with grace after our last encounter.” 

Wait, he fought Glory Girl too!? 

“But from your words, your ‘heroes’ wear masks? Is that the reason for the fake names?” Wukong asked, rubbing his chin. “But why - ah, I see.” He snapped his fingers. “Secrecy. If those hateful ruffians are doggedly after you, I imagine they tried the same tactic before, as did others of their ilk. Am I wrong?

“...yeah, it helps protect your loved ones and your normal life, outside the costume. Fleur was another hero from New Wave, and some nazis killed her out of costume after they tracked down her house.” Shivering at the memory of the news report, she rubbed her arm. “For me…I guess I’m not comfortable with the stares yet.”

The stares from the onlookers and the girls weren’t malicious or cruel like it was at Winslow, but she felt under a magnifying glass all the same. The hood and neck warmer helped, even if only slightly. 

“Hm. Your actions will draw many eyes, and sooner or later, those stares shall not be content to remain ignored.” He stared upwards and hummed. “Still, that would explain the rather ridiculous names. Armsmaster? Lung? Victor? Pah, I’ve seen frogs with better naming sense, and they address each other by croaking!” 

He lowered his head and looked at her. “If you intend to follow this pattern, have you thought of a name?”

Taylor hummed. “Well, a few. I’ve been workshopping it and I found some good examples, but I thought I’d wait until I actually fought some villains to pin a name.”

“Those villains have been felled out there. Could this Old Sun hear them?”

“Um, sure! I wanted to focus on the wings, so my first thought was Dragonfly, but that seems a little generic.” She paced around and began rattling off names. “I moved onto Pinion - like the wing part - Goldenwing, Lightblade …oh, there’s Anispotera! That’s the scientific name for dragonfly. Out of all those, that sounds like the best. I don’t think it’s taken, it sounds cool even if you don’t know what it means, and if you do, it’s even better!” She turned and faced him with an eager smile. “What do you think?”

Not a word came from his mouth. The raised eyebrow he gave in response and the flattening of his lips spoke volumes enough.

“I can see the lack of naming sense extends to your culture as a whole,” he deadpanned. Ignoring her despondence, he sighed and shook his head. “No matter. Ease your troubled mind, for this Old Sun will name you himself.”

Name her himself? “Wait, but I-”

He raised a finger and smiled, though the seriousness in his eyes cut off anything she was about to say.

“I insist. It is not simply a matter of sparing you from the legacy of a ridiculous name!” He took a deep breath and held her shoulder again. “A name must carry weight and meaning; it will define who you are and how you will see yourself. My old master gave me my first true name back when I was a young monkey exploring the world and its wonders. When I was freed from my prison, my new master bestowed upon me the name of Pilgrim. Even when my journey ended, I held that name dear to my heart. ‘Tis only fitting, as your master, that I bestow upon you a name of equal importance.”

While a bit miffed that he brushed off her suggestions like that, he didn’t look like he’d budge on this one…and now she discovered he was in prison!?

“Fine, if you say so. Can I at least decide if I like the name?”

“Of course. I apologize if I brushed off your efforts so callously, but this task requires insight you have yet to attain. I will not simply slap a name on you, and your input will hold weight.”

That was better. “Thanks,” she sighed.

Wukong broke out into a grin and clapped. “Splendid! I shall meditate on this matter most thoroughly!” He hummed and looked around, tail swishing with excitement. “Although if we are taking this important step, we shall have to up your training. Your wings have displayed an unusual feature, one we must study thoroughly to develop a proper regimen. To do that, I fear we shall have to look elsewhere for a training ground.”

“Why’s that?”

“As I have stated before, your wings are rather noticeable. Since we shall use them far more than in our previous sessions, we need a location with much more seclusion and access to good qi than some junkyard. My bagua formation has done an acceptable job with handling the impure qi that permeates this city, but that is no longer the standard we seek. Not to mention the various criminal elements and the heroes on the lookout for both of us; with my triumph over the armored warrior and your rather public showcase of prowess, their efforts will grow more dogged and desperate, and I’d rather you avoid facing them until you are better prepared.”

Taylor hummed as her lips curled downward. That was unpleasant to hear. “Any ideas where?”

Wukong nodded. “A few. In my survey of the city, I’ve reached outside its borders, and not a couple of days ago, I believe I’ve found a suitable location. It’s more remote than I would like and would prove difficult for you to leave by your lonesome, but needs must.” He dusted himself off and pulled the collar of his black robes. “I shall venture forth and inspect it properly while you head on home. With luck, it shall be ready within the next day or so.”

Wukong turned around and bent down, but not before shooting Taylor another warm smile. “You have done well by me and by yourself, disciple. Your skills showed their polish, and the flow of your brush remained steady. Above all, lives were saved by your actions. Never forget that.”

With those words, he leaped high into the sky, leaving Taylor with a bewildered expression.

‘Crap, I didn’t even ask him about the book!’ She cursed herself and held back the urge to smack her fist against the wall. ‘Okay, calm down. I’ll ask him when he gets back. Or maybe Mr. Luo; he’s bound to know something about that book if it’s so famous amongst the locals.’

Her frustration abated for the moment, and she stared at where he’d jumped. A fuzziness bloomed in her chest, and not for the first time since she’d begun her stay with the queer monkey-man.

You have done well by me.

“...I won’t let you down, I swear,” she whispered, his smile proving infectious.

She left the alley and began jogging all the way home, a spring in her step. ‘This is it. I’m gonna take the fight to them. The gangs, the Nazis, they won’t bully around anyone when I’m done with them!’ 

A few minutes later, she was about to break into a sprint when she spotted a man waving at her from a distance, wearing a baggy leather coat. Slowing her pace, she soon stopped before him and raised an eyebrow at his tarnished state. Now, Taylor was used to seeing homeless people - it was Brockton Bay, they usually overlapped with junkies - but the oh-so-brief glint in the man’s eye sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y-yes? Can I help you?”

-x-

‘Eager as always.’ Wukong thought, shaking his head as he jumped across the rooftops. ‘I confess, I did not expect her to outright engage those hooligans head-on…perhaps this was inevitable after keeping her cooped up in the house.’

His feet carried him away from the hums and smells of the neighborhood and over ramshackle and weathered houses. The glass spires, piercing the heavens, dominated the skyline even as he began to reach the city’s outskirts.

‘Her strikes were fluid and footwork swift. That nasty bit with the muscle-bound grappler almost raised my fur, but she adapted quickly. And her newfound ability…lying dormant, right in front of me, and I only had the barest suspicion. It reminds me of a few tricks used by the winged-guai, only with leaves of light instead of feathers. Nonetheless, what’s done is done. She has a new tool in her arsenal, and I have a feeling she will use it most creatively.’

Landing on a patch of grass, he cricked his neck and gazed at the city, now a cluster of spires and grey blocks in the distance. ‘The strength behind her strikes…against those so-called villains and sorcerers, I shall not begrudge her. They seem hardier than normal mortals, and with the wide variety of powers these apparitions bestow upon their hosts, ‘tis best to err on the side of caution. Against the foot soldiers…’ he sighed and stroked his mane. ‘Perhaps she has grown too used to hitting objects that do not break under normal blows. Once her defenses are built up, I shall have to remedy that. Hypocritical? Perhaps. But control is as essential as excess.’ 

Satisfied with his conclusions, the Monkey King turned away from the view of the city. ‘And this should be just the place to nurture her.’

Trees loomed as sentinels over him, with trunks as thick as his embrace, patterned with coarse ridges and grey furrows. Leaves, both needle-thin and pale-red, cast speckled shadows as the sunlight tried to pierce their skin. Cones hid within the wild grass, a dark green yearning for the spring’s radiant embrace. In the distance, the trunks tangled together in a web of bark and wood, shaped by the forces of the world. A forest that expanded ever westward, obscuring the horizon. 

He inhaled and breathed in the scent of pine, faint sugar, and damp earth. His ears tingled with the chirping of birds, the wingbeats of bugs, and the scritch-scratch of tiny clawed feet against bark. An errant zephyr ran its ethereal fingers through his fur, rustling the leaves above and below. ‘Oh Amitabha, to be graced by nature’s presence…alive and rippling beneath a tranquil surface. The ones who dwell above the earth could never understand these simple pleasures, or have long-forgotten them in pursuit of the summit.’

Picking up a wayward pinecone, long as his finger and thicker than two, he reached between its scales and plucked out a tiny nut. ‘A smaller breed. How curious.’ He popped the seed into his mouth and crushed it between his teeth. ‘Soft and buttery, with a vague sweetness. Mhm! A far cry from the usual bitterness of the pines back home.’

The crunch of leaves joined the forest’s melody as Wukong sauntered past the towering trees. As he walked, hands held behind and a soft whistle on his lips, he noted the birds watching him, button-eyed and brown-feathered, curious about the intruder in their domain. Of how the oaks’ branches shivered naked compared to their evergreen brethren, and fallen trunks, remains of those mighty watchers, teemed with life, hidden in hollows and blankets of moss.

‘These trees are old, witnesses to a sea of memories. New ones grow alongside them, no distinction between senior and junior.’ He touched one tree and rubbed his hands against the bark, brushing against a droplet of sticky sap. A squirrel’s chittering drew his attention, and he admired its bushy tail, a lighter shade than the forest-dwellers of his old forests. Though he could not speak the woodland languages as he could with monkeys and horses, he chittered through his teeth at the rodent. The squirrel tilted its head, rubbed it with its tiny claws, and scampered into the undergrowth.

“Mortals have trodden here, but for the most part they have left it untouched,” he whispered, leaning down and brushing fallen pine needles. “Yes…close enough, but not remote…this might just be it.”

His Golden Eyes flashed, and a pleased trill left his lips. ‘The imbalance of flow is carried from the city…but there is order here. Cleaner. The rot doesn’t reach as far as I feared. And what have we here?’

Trails of ethereal gold flowed past him and deeper into the forest. While tinged with fear and putridity, it was a far better sight than the rivers of corrupted qi drowning Brockton Bay. 

‘Well, nothing left to do but follow the path, eh?’

Deeper into the forest he went, past copses and thickets and shrubs. Past kingdoms of insects toiling and warring, past quiet nests of birds sheltering their young from the cold. Had the city’s wonders enthralled him so, to view nature’s workings as fresh as ink upon a page? 

Eventually, he came to a small clearing underneath a canopy of pine branches. The trails of qi swirled round and round, caressing the grass and leaf litter.

‘A natural hotspot. A small well where power gathers, flowing in and out in the four directions. With a small touch, the remnants of putridity shall be wiped clean here.’ Stamping his feet, the dirt crumpled beneath him but didn’t sink. ‘Come spring, the earth shall soften. Yes…yes, a true gem of a find, Old Sun!’

He walked around the clearing, observing the tangled roots and the evenness of the ground. Tearing up a handful of dirt and grass, he breathed in its scent. ‘Old earth, but not virgin. People used to dwell here. Yet there are no foundations or markings to indicate structures. Even the breadth of time does not erase that much. Nomads? Possible.’

But then he noticed something.

The birdsong. The chittering. Even the breeze.

Gone.

Now, only his breathing drifted in the glade.

Wukong casually looked around, eyes narrow and hand reaching for his ear.

Such sounds could not be quelled. Even when mortals chased animals from their homes, life carried on under the earth or high above in the treetops. But now?

Nothing.

‘Unnatural. But I have seen no sorcerers here. That can only mean-’

He turned around, seconds away from using his Golden Eyes -

SNARL!!

A blur rushed from deep in the forest. Jumping high, Wukong saw the blur bounce between the trees and rocket straight at him! Pulling out his staff, he struck the attacker and sent it into a tree. Almost an instant before it crashed against the rough bark, it spun in the air and latched onto the bark. Snarling upon landing, Wukong raised his staff, ready to thwart whoever interrupted his moment of tranquility…

Only for his eyebrows to furrow.

It clung to the tree with four paws, connected to a plump body with ratted fur, about the size of his chest. It bore a fleeting resemblance to the small bearcats of the southern mountains, save for the large, striped tail swishing back and forth like an angry war banner, along with the black mask that adorned its snout. Its fangs were bared menacingly, stretching its wide muzzle even further. Yet its peculiar appearance was secondary to Wukong. No, the honor of drawing his curiosity belonged to the intelligent glow in its beady eyes, laden with weariness and fear.

“Awani gia?”

The language was unfamiliar, but there could be no doubt.

“A spirit?” Wukong couldn’t believe it. But what else could it be?

The furry spirit - for Wukong could tell it was no yaoguai - snarled at him and raised its hackles. “Awanoch! Awane gia! Kalocha, chitigawina!”

‘Right. A common tongue would be helpful here.’ 

Clearing his throat and standing ramrod, Wukong allowed the mantra he’d recited many moons ago to fill his mind with the knowledge of the spirit’s language. “Greetings, spirit! I am a humble traveler, exploring this forest. How are you on this fine winter day?”

Now the spirit froze, jaws open in disbelief before closing them shut. 

“You…speak the old tongue?” it asked, words old and raspy, yet carrying a high pitch. A male, but you could never truly tell with spirits. “How?”

“This Old Sun holds many tricks and speaks many tongues,” he replied. “Why did you attack me?”

The spirit growled and pointed a clawed finger at him. “You…smell different. Other. Not like men or invaders, nor like the tainted. The sky, earth, and water flow through you as the white river crosses the stars.” Its nose twitched furiously. “I have not beheld such scents in many seasons, long after the children were driven out and my brethren retreated to the ether. Who are you?”

Tainted? Interesting…

“Where are my manners?” he clasped his hands and bowed low. “This old one is Sun Wukong, former pilgrim, warrior unparalleled, and king of monkeys. I hail from far-off Flower-Fruit Mountain and reside in the city not far from this magnificent forest. To whom might I be speaking?”

Another snarl left the spirit’s muzzle before his stare turned pensive. After a moment of possible internal debate, he crawled to a low-hanging branch and perched there.

“My forms are many, yet my name is one. I dwelt here in Wobanakik, where the children hunted, gathered, and spoke of me. I kept them light on their feet, and through my wisdom, they learned until pale hands shoved them away. My true self is hidden from you, but unless I deem you worthy, you may address me as Azeban.”

The spirit peered closer, a touch of interest coloring his wariness.

“Now that our names are known to each other, the oath and rite of guests is upon us. Tell me, why have you come to these woods, o hairy dweller-in-sky-and-earth?”