The women of his pack called one another Sisters, even when they were mother or daughter or outsider alike. Achak, however, had been raised without such titles. He had been born and placed alongside a dozen other boys, blood or not, and they had simply accepted themselves as extensions of another. Sisters, brothers, were different from that. Mothers, too, for he had been given several mothers in his short life. Each one cared for them, tested them and taught them. Achak’s future had been decided before he had even fully understood the word itself – he had been born with a good physique, a suitable colour, and had displayed the needed cautiousness early in his life. While some of the other boys had raced off into swamps and shadows (and some had surely never returned at all or had reappeared days later as tufts of wet fur), Achak had watched, waited and weighed things. It made him a Watcher, a Guardian, a Keeper of Sisters. From that day, he had been assigned a Sister. Sister Wendigo, a spritely thing from the bayou.
Wendigo and Achak had arrived in Moladion only days before and Achak had immediately committed himself to scouting the land. He had grown accustomed to Wendigo and felt more comfortable leaving her to own devices - after all, he had discovered a series of crags and caves not too long ago, and he imagined Wendigo would be drawn to them one way or another. In truth, he had grown accustomed to her, but he had also grown aware of her. Wendigo, after all, had been a well-respected child in the coven. They had called her all sorts of names and Achak had watched her grow for some time, and with her body, her knowledge had grown too. If he had been a fool, he would have underestimated her. Instead, he had fostered his own healthy fear of her. He had headed on ahead to do more than just scout the land but rather, to give himself a chance to cleanse away the shadows they had walked with for weeks on end.
He stood chest-deep in the cold waters of the river; he stood motionless, his eyes half-closed as he felt the water part his fur and run across his bare skin. Light danced across the water’s surface and with it, shadows crept away from him like roots of a tree. As each dark shape slipped away, he felt himself grow lighter. It was known, after all, that the presence of a witch could be a heavy burden if one did not stop to care for themselves. As a Guardian, Achak needed to retain his strength and vigor – he could not permit Wendigo to tap into his energy for her use. He needed to keep himself clean, a practice that might have been easier if he knew the lay of the land, but he had relied on leaving Wendigo alone to find water. It made him clench his teeth, knowing that he had forsaken his duty for a moment, but it would have been foolish not to. Once he knew the land, he’d best know where to find the moon, the water or where the healing herbs best grew...
Somebody emerged at the banks ahead of him. His dark ears flickered forward, his eyes opening completely as he drank her in. She was unusual looking, and older than he, marked with strange blood-hues. He stayed silent, stayed still. He was a Watcher and so he watched as she drank from the waters; he watched as the shadows that peeled away from him congregated in the waters before her. And then he moved, slow steps through the water towards her. He moved with his posture low, cautious as he were, and his eyes did not leave her. He wanted to get a better look at her, a better smell too. She was the first wolf here he had seen, and it was his duty to discover what creatures inhabited that land Wendigo had chosen.