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Athu was young, younger than any chieftain before him, some said.

But when there was a dispute between tribesmen, Athu was judge and mediator. When they hunted the wooly rhino to prove they were still worthy of the gift of life that the great beasts bestowed on the tribe, Athu led the hunt.

Therefore, young or not, as the ice mountains shattered, and men whispered of the world ending, Athu would seek the wisdom of the Sage, despite the danger.

Even the Sage's Mountain was dying, cracking, breaking apart, as Athu began his long trek to the lodge at the summit where the Sage resided. The howling wind beat upon him, and spat sharp shards of ice like tiny spears, but the rhino's tough skin upon his back kept him safe.

When he reached the plateau at the peak of the ice mountain, he was weary and battered, but alive. He gazed in wonder at the Sage's lodge, a perfectly round mound whiter than the snow and ice around it, with round holes that glowed with light, that made it look like the skull of some great beast with a fire lit inside.

He approached hesitantly, then scrambled back as part of the skull fell away and vanished when he got close.

"Come inside, young rhino." a voice called from inside. "You're letting in the cold."

Hesitantly, he crept back up to the hole in the great skull. Then, setting his jaw, he ducked quickly inside. He jumped again, as somehow the piece of skull reappeared, and slid back into place, shutting out the howling wind completely.

Athu looked in wonder at the blowing snow and ice outside through one of the eye-sockets in the skull. It was like being in a cave warmed by fire, despite the yawning gaps in the wall. He reached towards one, and was surprised to find that his hand didn't pass through. Something like perfectly clear ice filled the holes in the wall, and yet it was only slightly cool, and didn't melt at his touch.

"Young rhino." the voice said, softly. Athu, remembering where he was, turned, and bowed low.

"Great Sage." he murmured.

"Rise, young rhino, rise. I am not a man to whom chieftains should bend." the Sage said. Athu straightened, and looked at the sage. In appearance, he reminded Athu of his own grandfather, though the skins he wore were beyond strange. What beast had a hairless hide so white and thin as the skins that made up the Sage's garments?

"So, why does the Chieftain of the Wooly Rhino Tribe seek me out?" the Sage asked.

Athu swallowed. "It is...it is said that the world is ending."

The Sage chuckled. "Is it, now? Well, if that is all that troubles you, then you need not worry."

"Then the world is *not* ending?" Athu said, hopefully.

"Oh, no. It is. But far too slowly to trouble yourself with, young rhino." the Sage said. "Nor shall its ending trouble your children, nor their children after them, nor theirs after them. It is some ways off, yet."

"But...the ice mountains are cracking! And the elders say there are fewer wooly rhinos than once there were!"

The Sage considered this for a moment, then nodded. "They do, and there are. Both are dying."

Athu groaned, mournfully. The wooly rhino was the life of his tribe, its spirit! Without it, they were surely doomed.

"Can...can not the Guardians do something?"

"Perhaps." the Sage said. "But they will not."

"What? But why?" Athu cried.

The Sage sighed. “The Guardians have always been, young rhino. They watch us from afar. Never interfering with our own struggles, but keeping their own kind from interfering as well. Ours is not to question their ways.”

"Then all is lost." Athu murmured, his eyes widening in horror. "Even...even if my children's grandchildren do not see it...we will die."

The Sage nodded, solemnly. "As will all things that draw breath, in their time, young rhino."

"Can you give me no comfort?" Athu pleaded. His people had always trusted the Sage's wisdom. He could not believe he was so callous in the face of tragedy.

The old man sighed. "Have you sired children yet, young rhino?"

"One," Athu answered, thinking of his beloved Mali, holding little Athli to her bosom in his wooly wrap. "A son, born this past moon." Perhaps it was some comfort, that Athli would not see the end of all things, but it was scarcely a real balm for the horror of an oblivion waiting only a few generations away.

"As your woman labored, did she smile and laugh? Or did she wail, and cry out, and bleed?" the Sage asked. "And did your son come to you in peace? Or was he born amid blood and offal, screaming as soon as he could draw breath?"

"I don't understand." Athu said, furrowing his brow. "We both know how children are born, Sage."

"Yes," the Sage agreed. "And from this, you may begin to understand how *worlds* are born. The ice mountains are ending, yes. The wooly rhino is likewise ending, I am sorry to say. The world -- as we know it -- is ending. But these endings are also part of a beginning."

The old man placed a hand on Athu's shoulder. "Your son is not the same as you, nor the same as your woman. He is no doubt quite different from either of you. But tell me, young rhino, what do you think of your son?"

Athu paused. He recalled the moment when he first saw his son's face. "He is...he is beautiful." Athu said, at last.

And the Sage smiled.

---

Submitted by SilasCrane on Mon, Mar 06, 2023 to /r/WritingPrompts/

The prompt

“The Guardians have always been, young rhino. They watch us from afar. Never interfering with our own struggles, but keeping their own kind from interfering as well. Ours is not to question their ways.”