Evander sat on a branch, bow in hand, waiting. His legs had fallen asleep hours ago, but he knew it would be worth the wait in the end. His brother Aldric was somewhere on the other side of the woods. With any luck, he had yet to find his target. Evander would not let himself be beaten by him again.

He heard the snapping of a twig somewhere below, but looked down to see nothing but a rabbit hopping away. He sighed, and pushed some of his messy hair out of his eyes. He knew his father would force him to get it cut soon, but he thought he looked better with it a bit long. He remembered crying when he was younger, after having his hair forcibly cut. Evan knew not to make that mistake again.

His reminiscing was cut short by a flash of fur from through the branches. He nearly fell out of the tree as he scrambled to get a look at what had just ran by. Standing about twenty feet below him, in the form of a grey wolf, was a witch’s familiar. The beast that Evander needed to kill. It looked up at him, its red eyes shining with an intellect that unnerved Evander. He knew it was just a witch’s puppet, yet he still felt a pang of guilt because of what he had to do.

Drawing his bow, Evander notched an arrow and took aim. The beast below simply stared at him, as if the weapon being aimed at him was as intimidating as a ladybug. Evander hesitated, waiting to see if the familiar would make a move. He blinked, and in that brief moment, the wolf leapt, ascending nearly twenty feet in a single jump. It landed on the branch Evander was sitting on, startling him enough that his hand slipped, letting the arrow fly right past the wolf. The beast jumped on top of Evander, letting out a low growl. Evan desperately fumbled for his knife, his shaking hands making gripping it difficult. The wolf, seeing Evan reach for the blade, knocked it off the branch. The color in Evander’s face seemed to melt off. Evander’s brow was sweating enough to fill an ocean. He was at least glad no one would see him die in such a cowardly state.

The wolf leaned in, taking in Evander’s scent. It looked back at him with confusion in its eyes. The hostility it had so easily displayed a moment ago flew away, replaced with an easygoing curiosity. Evander’s own inquisitiveness was mixed with much more fear. What had the wolf picked up that would cause such a change in its behavior? Before Evander could even blink the wolf leapt off the branch, landing quietly below. It bolted into the trees, leaving Evander alone with his fear and bewilderment.

***

Fort Blackwater was not the most horrible place to have grown up. There was always a plethora of meats and pastries in the kitchens, and sturdy walls to protect the people, and a decently sized library that Evander liked to spend his time in. But the imposing place had never felt warm to him. There seemed to be a sort of spiritual chill that permeated the fort. It felt like a castle cursed for the misdeeds of those who inhabited it. But that made no sense to Evander. His father had gone to great pains to drill into his sons’ heads the righteousness of their cause.

Their family had been Witch Hunters for generations. Lord Ulysses, Evander’s father, said that their family line could be traced back to the Great Burning of 709 A.E., when most of the witches in Santo Tierra had been banished to Hell. The Ulysses family was one of the oldest families of Witch Hunters, and one of the last. Most of the other great families had been killed in the many wars against the God scorned witches. Lord Ulysses was oft quite eager to tell tales of their family’s victories against the witches. Evander had a suspicion that his father had not read much of what was written about their family.

“A Written History of the Ulysses Clan” was a tome whose sole purpose seemed to be gathering dust before Evander found it in a forgotten corner of the library. It had rested undisturbed ever since the departure of Evander’s mother some years ago. One of the only things she had left Evander was her love of history. Whereas Aldric had been taken by tales of knights and dragons as a child, Evander had consumed historical volumes with the hunger of a starving wolf. History was not only fascinating to him; it also provided a link to the person Evander missed every day. He still didn’t understand why she’d had to leave. No amount of pestering could pry that knowledge from his father’s cold hands.

***

Having gotten back from his bizarre encounter with the familiar, Evander had made his way straight to the library. It was the most comfortable room in the keep to him. It was both where near limitless knowledge was stored, as well as being the place tied to the strongest memories of his mom. He grabbed a flagon of ale from the kitchen and made himself comfortable sitting up against a bookshelf. With a blanket wrapped around him and a mug at his side, Evander dove into the text detailing his families exploits.

Evander had gotten back home sometime in the late afternoon, so he had one or two hours to indulge himself in a bit of light reading before dinner. He wanted to lose himself in some comforting escapism before having to sit through that. He flipped through the yellowed pages back to where he had left off, sometime around when his great grandfather had become the family patriarch. His eyes flew easily across the faded text. Great granddaddy had apparently been an influential fellow. At only 24 he had seized Fort Blackwater for himself after a seven-month siege against the previous inhabitants. He had then gone on to lead one of the last great hunts against the witches. He had apparently led an army into the Wild Wood and burned down one of their last great strongholds. Evander found that the rest of the man’s life was largely unnoted. One thing the book did mention was the man’s lust for cruelty. Evander decided he didn’t need to read about a subject like that.

Evander untangled himself from the warm little cocoon he’d made and shambled over to the most commonly trafficked part of the library, the shelf housing books on witch hunting. Evander himself spent a fair bit of time there, he would sometimes read aloud for those in the keep who could not. He was there to find a specific volume, “Osmund’s Compendium of the Creatures of Hell.” Evander felt the work too be a bit overdramatic in its descriptions, but most hunters vouched for its accuracy. With practiced deftness Evander turned to the chapter regarding familiars.

“As some among the Holy Hunters may be aware, most witches keep loathsome little demons dubbed ‘familiars’ by the God rejecting harlots. These fiends commonly take the appearance of mundane beasts, though this is not always the case. The fact that they are capable of camouflaging themselves makes discerning their true appearances a test. One should always be vigilant, or find oneself being dragged to Hell by the beasts. Queer behavior by the creatures is one of the easier ways of identifying them.

Their intelligence is closer to a human’s than that of normal beasts. This is, however, a double-edged sword, gifted to us by God. One of the skills of the familiars is the ability to discern magic users. If one can be captured, the creepy little creature can be used to hunt the very beings it’s meant to protect. God does seem to love his little jests.”

Evander carefully put the book back on the shelf, more confused than he had been when he began. Was that what had happened with the wolf familiar? That made no sense. No one in the Ulysses family had any magical capacity, any who had would have been promptly dealt with. What else could it have been, then? As Evander sat there contemplating one of the servants came in, beckoning him to dinner.

Family dinner was, as usual, a rather annoying affair for young Evander. Despite eating at a table that could comfortably house twenty people, only four chairs where present, with only three of them filled. Evander and Aldric sat across from one another, with their father alone at the end of the table. There were only ever two states of conversation during dinner, awkward silence rarely broken by forced conversation, and bad-tempered bickering mixed with the boastful tales told by Lord Ulysses. That night seemed to be an argument evening. Dinner had started off in peaceful awkwardness. Roast pork was brought in and the three men ate in silence, until the peace was snuffed out by Aldric.

“Hey Evan,” Aldric sand with a small little smirk “how’d the hunt go today? I didn’t see you return with the prey, did ya leave it in the woods, perhaps?” Evan suppressed a sigh; he’d been dreading having to talk about that. “It ran away, unlike some people here, the prey I hunt isn’t dumb enough to be caught by someone who couldn’t find a deer in an open field.”

“Oh, piss off about that, you know that wasn’t my fault.”

“Yeah sure, it was the deer that got you so wasted you couldn’t find your own dick.”

“Least mine can be found, yours is so small it may as well just be a girl’s snatch.”

Lord Ulysses’ eyes bulged at the last comment, and he slammed his fist down on the table. “If you boys do not quiet yourselves I will gladly do it for you. Aldric, I will not hear any unholy utterances of your brother being in any way a woman ever again. If I should I promise you I will shove your head into the fireplace so that you may have an early taste of Hell. You know what The Dios Libro says about men who wear women’s clothes. I will not have any kin of mine disobeying God’s will. I will bring out the whip should you two not behave.” Dinner was quite quiet after that little outburst. Both of the boys knew not to test their father. The soft clanging of silverware filled the dining hall, and everyone retired to their quarters.

Evander had a sizable room at the top of the eastern tower of the fort. Other than the library it was one of the few places that he felt comfortable in that cursed keep. He was sitting by the window, a stack of books next to him. The view was spectacular. The night was clear, so the stars were free to soar across the sky. The moon shone brightly enough that the Wild Wood was unusually well lit. Evan could see into it far more than usual. He knew that somewhere in those woods lurked the Night Witches, one of the last great clans of witches. He knew that the woods were unfathomably dangerous, even veteran hunters avoided the woods unless absolutely necessary. Despite that, something about the woods seemed beautiful in an ethereal way. He almost felt like there was a power that it emanated, warm and pleasant, like laying in a field of wheat on a summer’s day. Evan luxuriated in that feeling, and as quickly as it arrived in faded away, leaving him cold and lonely. He felt frustrated and confused, but decided that he would leave those feelings for future Evan to deal with. He changed into some soft pajamas, climbed into bed, and swiftly fell asleep.

And somewhere, deep in the woods, a wolf returned to their master, bringing with them the most interesting gossip.