A New Guardian?

Prolouge

Blackness.

That's all there was. Until there was light.

I opened my eyes, feeling grass brushing against my legs, wind blowing against my cheeks.

Who am I?

A light shines down, and I look up to see the moon, surrounded by hundreds of stars. The soft light feels warm, comforting, like an old friend.

"Y/N, Wake up" A deep voice whispers, "You are Y/N. Spirit of the wild." I know it was the moon. Don't ask how, just a feeling, but I know it was.

I slowly stand up, wobbling slightly, and brush extra dirt off my white knee-length dress. Then it changes, elongating to the middle of my shins and turning a leaf green, silver sparkles and simple flowers growing on it tenderly. I look down, seeing vines growing around slightly tanned feet, and around part of my upper arms like ribbons. Branches around my waist as a belt. It's beautiful.

I scratch my head, feeling soft feline ears, that matches a clouded leopard tail I find attached to my lower half. Ok, definitely not human then, human adjacent.

I take a step, admiring the feel of cool soft grass under my toes, it feels right. I feel something inside me, and look around.

I'm in a large hollow, a small mainly dried-up lake with its own little island in the center. There's grass and flat rocks, small caves and a dying willow on the mini island. I hop onto it, lightly brushing a somewhat freckled hand along the cracking bark.

Something about this tree feels special, and not just the fact it's larger than it should be. Just then, something sparks. A soft green glow, and the willow rejuvenates. With it, so does the forest surrounding the hollow, and other plants spring up everywhere. A dent that goes through the hollow, the lake, and into the cliff suddenly become flush with water from a river above, a waterfall forming on the wall. A sturdy branch lowers slightly, and I sit on it, looking in wonder at the place around me.

Some creatures walk down, others fly. Squirrels and birds, wolves and raccoons, rabbits, deer and foxes, and even more. But none of them looked angry, and they all had the silver marking of something on their shoulder or forehead. Instead they all sat around or laid down, talking like old friends. I could understand every word, and everything felt right.

This place...It's home.