The beast was skulking within the cave, unaware of what waited outside.

          I had tracked the creature all afternoon, following ambiguous reports from the village huddled at the bottom of the mountain. Most inhabitants gave only ghost stories and jokes regarding the monster making meals of their neighbours that dared venture up the old nature trail, but a middle-aged bartender spoke up with a claim that his brother had been taken by the beast only recently while on a hiking trip with two of his friends. The trio left midday, after lunch, on Saturday. Nightfall now blanketed the hills two days later and no-one had heard from any of them since.

          The bartender was hesitant to tell me more when I neglected to answer his question of who I was and why I posed an interest in searching for the beast, but the fact that I believed his worries was enough for him to shove a map of the route in my hands, pour me a drink and beg me to find his brother. Dad was too busy with research, so I set off on my own hunt. I had faced a beast such as this before and would be fine, he said as I left.

          After traipsing through the thick forest patched on the west side of the mountain for an hour, I came across a clearing littered with broken supplies and pine needles, and circled the area.

          A yellow tent, so bright it hurt my eyes, had been pitched. The colour would not have attracted the beast – vision was mainly based on movement – but it would have made its hunt easier, acting as a tag for the unsuspecting hikers once their presence was noted. I'd call them fools but they didn't know any better. As far as they were concerned, the wendigo was a strange and scary bedtime story.

          From the camp, I found a trail: deep footprints reminiscent of human feet that led me deeper in the dark. I stretched to step over the undergrowth and came face to face with the mouth of a cave, letting out a breath that collected in a cloud before my lips. The air was brisk on the mountainside, but it was the thought of what was inside that made me shiver.

          I had no doubt it was in there. Wendigo's favoured secluded hideaways they could stash their prey. If any of the hikers were alive, they were to be within.

          I switched on the torch I had strapped to my belt and stepped inside.

          If not for the possible survivors, I would have set a trap for it at the mouth of the cave to not waltz into its thriving environment. However, there were three hikers missing. Every minute I waited for the beast to spring the trap was another moment that could be their last.

         There was a splash. I cringed at the sound and gingerly pointed the torch downwards. My boots were now coated in red and my mouth went dry.

          I cursed. No-one could lose that much blood and still be alive. Chances were that I was returning from the cave with two – maybe less – survivors. With this in mind, I pushed on, following the blood trail to what I knew to be a gruesome scene at the end.

          Minutes passed that felt like hours. It was effort to keep my eyes pointed straight ahead to avoid any unwanted surprises, and not to look too long at the vicious claw marks that scarred the cave walls. For a brief second, I let myself wonder if it was the wendigo or its victims that made them, then stashed away the thoughts as I always did. Thoughts such as those could kill you just as much as a wrong step. I had to stay focussed.

          Then I heard it. The wet crunch of flesh and bone. My blood curdled into ice as I turned a corner and covered the bulb of the torch.

          It hunched over the body of one of the hikers, grey skin thinning over the sharp bumps of its curved spine with every movement. It ripped into the hiker's chest, pouring him onto the stone cave floor with a vile, merciless sound. Wendigos were horrid creatures. Horrid. It was hard to imagine them as humans, once.

          The acidic stench hit me, and bile rose in my throat. In its frenzy, the creature had not yet noticed I was there, watching in the shadows, completely still. So long as it wasn't pointing directly at it, the wendigo would not see the torch; the thing was near-blind. If I moved as it turned around, however, it would pick up on my movement and charge. I needed the light to fight it but couldn't hold a torch and a weapon at the same time. That was why they hunted at night. As long as their prey moved, they could see it.

          A pained sob echoed down the tunnel and I had to bite back a sigh of relief. Someone was still alive down there. For my own selfish reasons, I hoped it was the bartender's brother.

          The wendigo paid no attention to the cries from the nearby passage. It had captured its prey; it had no need to worry. This meant that I had a chance to retrieve the survivor and gain an advantage in the fight that was to come.

          What I was about to do was also a risk. I counted the distance from my spot at the entrance to the tunnel on the right: around ten metres. I counted again: still ten metres. That was all it took to get from where I was and where I needed to be. I would find the survivor first and deal with the creature later. It was distracted now, and I'd be stupid not to take that opportunity.

          Eyes on the creature, I sidestepped for the door. Slow, calculated and careful. If the wendigo turned around, if I needed to—

          Stop.

          The front of my boot kicked a stone so tiny I hadn't even noticed it on the ground. It skipped diagonal across the cavern, the sound so quiet yet it hurt my ears to hear it. 

          I flipped the switch of the torch before it could turn around.

          Frozen to the spot and engulfed by darkness, I waited. The tunnel was perhaps two large steps away, but I couldn't make a run for it. Wendigos were fast creatures and running blind through endless tunnels would sign my death warrant. It was a mistake so foolish of a hunter to make that even my own father would likely not attend my funeral if that was to happen.

          But I was no fool. I would wait. I would be patient.

          And when I heard the ragged breathing grow louder and louder, I knew the wendigo was staring at me, mere inches from my face.

          My eyelashes fluttered in panic as the icy air hit me, making its way through my fastened coat and into my chest and heart. And the smell – oh, god, the smell – hit me in a wave of toxic air that unsettled my stomach.

          It growled. The sound was something odd but still partly human. Like a child pretending to be a wolf. It was uncanny. And I couldn't even take deep gasps to steady my nerves. Every breath was short and shallow – timed and savoured.

          I had to get out of there. It was too close to even breathe for fear the warmth of it would reach its face.

         Another ragged breath was released upon my face. It was looking directly at me now. It knew something was there but could not pinpoint whether it was predator or prey. Wendigos were lone creatures. Nothing was friend to them.

          If it was looking at my face, it wasn't looking at my hand. With a movement so slow, the human eye may not even notice it in light, I slipped a hand in the lowest pocket of my coat, carefully removing a copper coin and holding it loosely in my quivering hand.

          Keep it steady. Keep it steady.

          I waited for that pungent breath to hit my face once more then released the coin with a sharp flick of my index finger and thumb.

          The creature startled as the coin bounced off the opposite wall of the cave and scuttled after it with a hiss, leaving its prey – those dead and alive – behind.

          I dared let out a gasp.

          I had maybe a minute to reach the survivors and made haste of rushing down the tunnel, switching on my torch.

          Slumped against the cave wall, a body in his arms and a coat draped over him, was one of the hikers reported missing by the bartender earlier that day. He sobbed into the chest of his friend – another hiker – and deepened his cries as he saw me enter.

          "You need to get out!" he cried. "Haven't you seen that... thing? How have you not been—?"
I pressed a finger to my lips. "Is he alive?"
He looked to his friend. "Yes. But he's been bleeding out for hours. Fell unconscious... I don't know how long ago."

          I nodded and knelt down, pressing the back of my hand to his friend's forehead. "A fever," I said. "He'll need a doctor the minute we get out."
He gaped. "G... get out? Are you daft?! This thing is—!"
I clamped a hand over his mouth and hissed through my teeth. "I came here to get the three of you out. I can't do that if you draw the wendigo in here and it kills me. Then you'll be next. And your friend. So shut up."

          I let go and he gawked at me. Hushing his voice, he said, "Who are you?"
I picked the coat off from his friend. Maybe I could use it for a fire. "Here to help," I replied.
He turned his head. "A name, at least?" No answer from me. I fumbled around my pockets for matches and found a small, opened pack. "Mine's Joshua," he said. "What's yours?"
I checked the box: six left. "Erika."

         There was no way I could get Joshua and his friend passed the wendigo undetected, especially when I made a slip up on my own. I didn't doubt Joshua would make one wrong step that could end all three of us in seconds. I needed to take the creature out if we hoped to get out of this cave.

          "I'm going to kill that thing," I declared. Joshua's eyes went wide. "And I need you to help me." Then they went wider.
"Me? But I can't... I don't know how... why do you know how?"
"You don't need to fight it. The wendigo – the creature out there – sees things based on movement. It can see me in the dark, is what I'm saying. I can't." I handed him the box of matches and the coat. "When I go in there, I'm going to attack first. As I do that, I need you to light this on fire and throw it to the centre of the cavern so I can see what I'm doing while keeping you at a safe distance."
He was hesitant but nodded. "Okay." He half-smiled. "But this is my favourite jacket."
"I really don't care. Just make sure it burns before you throw it."
He rolled his eyes.

          I reached for my belt and unfastened the flare guns from their hilts. As much as I wanted to bring the crossbow out today – as I did with most hunts – the weapon was useless against wendigos. Arrows could hurt them but only fire would grant a more permanent ending. Joshua was watching me as I checked their contents, slack-jawed and unnerved.

          Joshua quivered. "Who... who did you say you worked for, again?"
I brushed hair away from my face and gave him a slight smile. "I didn't."

          We were ready. With an encouraging nod to Joshua, I stormed the cavern.

          One shot fired from the flare gun singed the wendigo's arm. It screeched at the impact, backing up as Joshua ignited the coat and launched it at the ground below its feet. Then it roared.

          I winced, unable to block my ears. It darted around the fire and slung a clawed hand for my abdomen. I jumped back, dodging the slashing hands ready to cut like blades. It was faster than me and I would tire from jumping so much. I needed to keep it at a distance.

          I grabbed the knife from the inside of my coat and countered one of its slashes, jabbing the blade into its gnarly bicep.

          I slammed into the cave wall as the creature roared, throwing me away from him. If not for the height I reached, I would have landed directly on the flames sprouting from the coat.

          It was angry. Very angry. And I had made it that way. Joshua had retreated back into the tunnel and watched from the side-lines so I didn't need to worry about him. I had warned him to remain still and, to my relief, he was doing just that.

          I reached for the flare guns then froze. They were nowhere to be found.

          I had to worry about myself now. Because the wendigo was coming. It stepped around the burning coat, orange flames turning its dead skin to a glowing, threatening red as it growled. My hands scrambled along the cave floor for any signs of the flare guns hidden in the shadows.

         Joshua darted into the cavern, running straight for the flare gun behind the wendigo.

          I shouted for him to stop but he didn't. The young man kicked the gun in my direction as the wendigo spun around, screaming in his face.

          Long fingers wrapped around Joshua's neck and lifted him off the ground. His legs locked straight as he choked, grasping for air.

          I snatched the flare gun from the floor and aimed for its head.

          The flare ripped through its skull with a shriek and a crackle. Sparks flew out the back of the wendigo's head and ricocheted off the cave wall. It flung Joshua towards me. As he hit the floor with a grunt, he scurried back, close to me, and held onto my arm.

          I rose to my feet and nudged Joshua to step backwards as the creature screamed and burst into flames. In seconds, it collapsed in a fiery heap on the floor, limbs crackling like firewood until they turned to ash.

          Air hitched in my throat. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I turned to Joshua.
"Let's get your friend."

***

The third hiker remained unconscious as we carried him out the cave and back towards the camp in the forest: the last place Joshua recalled having phone signal. Following a short call to the mountain's rescue team and an awkward conversation explaining to Joshua why he had to keep what he saw in the cave between him and his friend a secret, an air-ambulance arrived.

          "Why not?" he asked quietly. The paramedics were a few yards ahead, tending to his friend. "Shouldn't we be screaming about that thing from the mountaintops?"
"No."

          It would be a mistake to do that. If humanity learned of the existence of beasts such as the wendigo, they would fall into unimaginable chaos. The first time supernatural beings were exposed to the public eye was sixteenth century Europe and that ended tragically. Instead of trying to understand them – that being the witches who desired contact with the humans – they set out on a course of extinction, executing thousands of innocents based on prejudices against their own kind.

          Humanity was a fragile race. One that needed protecting against the evil that lurked in the darkness.

          "Imagine the outcry if this was to get out," I went on. "The innocents that would be harmed."
"Innocents were harmed today," he argued. "Being unaware of it made us helpless."

          He was not the innocent I was thinking of. As a hunter, I was not only responsible for the protection of mankind, but the safety and concealment of the other species, too. To keep a select few protected, all of them had to be hidden away. Even if they made it difficult.

          Joshua didn't argue further when I refused to change my answer.

          We were taken back to the village at the foot of the mountain while the third hiker received medical treatment. After a thank you from the bartender, I wished Joshua luck in his recovery and began my ten-minute walk to the log cabin dad and I had made our home for the duration of the hunt.

***

I sunk my teeth into a club sandwich I bought at a garage close to the bar, savouring the sweet and saltiness of the ham and mayo. Dad was no cook, and I was not keen on having beans on toast for the fourth night in a row. I feared my taste buds had taken a dip and needed something different. Dad had a sandwich for himself waiting in my pack.

          A chill ran down my spine as an icy wind blustered through the amber leaves above. Now that the wendigo was gone, I prayed we would be leaving the cabin in the morning. It was a normal reoccurrence for us to sleep in such places – cabins, caravans, tents and even the car – but I drew a line at abandoned buildings full of splinters and breaking floorboards. I, being in the foul mood I was in that day, threatened to turn the car around and leave dad there by himself. When he told me to stop complaining and do it, I caved. Soon we were at the cabin and I was miserable for the whole week but kept my mouth shut. I longed for a night back at Diana's; to bask in a hot shower and visit my family again.

          Plus, one of her hot chocolates had been the desire of my taste buds for the month we had been on the road for. Coffee shops and sachets did not live up to Diana's self-taught barista skills.

          Once I broke through the lining of the trees, I froze.

          A car, black and glossed like spilled ink along the driveway, faced the cabin, lining itself parallel to my own car. Dad never had many visitors and, as far as I knew, only our family was aware of our location. I scanned the windows from my spot in the shadows. A shape danced passed the light from the cabin... and another.

          I ducked, crouching behind a bush. These were not visitors we wanted and exposing myself to them would take away any chance of escape.

          I weaved around the undergrowth for cover as I made my way towards the cabin.

          "Don't make this any harder for yourself, Christopher. Where are the others?"

          I pressed against the cabin wall. At this angle, I couldn't see through the windows but I could hear the voices clearly. It was a woman speaking first, then dad.

          "We parted ways after the ritual," he said. "I haven't seen them in years."
I had no knowledge of a ritual. "Lies," said the woman. "All you people do is lie."
"Kate," dad said, almost growling as he did when scolding me or my brother.
"Don't Kate me. I'm not playing your games anymore. There are twelve of you that we need – you must have spoken to one of them. Tell me where they are."
Dad sighed. "I don't know."

          I risked a look. There were five people there, excluding dad: three women and two men. The one leading the entourage – Kate – appeared slightly younger than dad, clad in black clothing like the rest of the group with red hair that rested on her shoulders and a golden pendant of a symbol I didn't recognise hanging around her neck.

          In the corner of the room, I spotted my rucksack, containing the few things I brought with me from Diana's but chose not to take on the hunt. Within it, folded into a pocket-size box, was my crossbow. If I could just get to it...

          Across the room, dad caught my eye. His lips pressed together tightly. 'Get down,' he was telling me.

          And I did. Just as Kate spoke again.

          "Is your daughter hunting with you?" Dad was silent. She must have spotted my bag. "She's old enough now, isn't she? What is she, twenty-something?"
"Twenty-two," dad said.
"I see," replied Kate. "Well, I'm sure she'll be back soon. We might as well get comfortable, everyone."

          There were snickers around the room from everyone but dad.

          "She's not coming back," he said. "She wanted a break from all this. I told her to go after her hunt. To leave." A warning to run. I wasn't going anywhere. That was my father in there. No Lupine would ever be left alone.
"Christopher, Christopher. Stop. Lying," Kate hissed. "She left her things, her car. Do you think me a fool? She's coming back, and she'll be back soon."
"She's not—"

          Dad choked. And with the warm, burning scent of magic in the air, I knew what she was doing. She was setting an example for dad; showing what she would do if she found me. Witches were powerful beings and not just for their magic. They were supposed to be on our side.

          There was a gasp. "Tell me where they are, Chris." Her voice had softened. "I know how I would feel if anyone harmed my son. Please, just tell me where they are. I won't even touch your daughter if I don't have to."
Dad sighed again. "This is crazy. Even for you. Your cult was banished before, do you think your Lord's on that island of yours will be so kind again? If not for my family, do it for yours. Your son won't want this for you." I made note of his words. We were dealing with a cult. Would dad have a record of that somewhere?
"My son knows the cost of the ritual," she snapped. "Does your daughter?"

          I didn't. Evidently, I was less informed of this ritual than Kate's son. Dad's silence told Kate all she needed to know.

          "I see," she said, only a hint of humour sharpening her tone. "Then I'll give you an offer: tell me where the hunters are, and we will leave before your daughter returns."

          It was a little late for that and dad knew it. His mouth remained clamped shut for a few agonising minutes in silent protest. The wind began to pick up, sending a chill down my spine.

          Kate snarled and the air around me stunk with the smoky taint of magic. Dad winced, his pain growing into a cry louder than before.

          I couldn't take it anymore. I reached for the flare gun in my pocket and charged for the door.

          "STOP!"

          I froze, still crouched below the window but closer to the door than I was. Dad was breathless and I saw his eyes flit towards me from inside.

          "Can't handle a bit of pain, Christopher?" said Kate. "If you find it difficult, imagine what would happen when your daughter—"
"Parkview Tower. Room 432. Edinburgh."

          Parkview Tower. Room 432. Edinburgh. I rehearsed it my head over and over but did not risk writing it down in my phone just yet. I saw the idea strike dad when he spotted me heading for the door. In no life would Christopher Lupine hand over information to a witch without a fight. Kate thought he had given up but his fight was waiting outside, clutching a flare gun and ready to defend her family.

          Edinburgh. That was where he was sending me. And I had to get there to find out what the cult wanted. That was all I could get from dad without them noticing.

          Kate chuckled. "Two down, ten to go. Now get in the car."
"I—"
"Get in the car, Chris. Unless you want your daughter to meet Felix."

          I didn't. And I had to move.

          I dropped off the decking and pressed down into the mud beneath the shrubs lining the cabin, scraping my palms on branches and thorns and wrecking my nails with mud.

          The door opened and the group filed out.

          Kate headed the pack with a smug grin, followed by dad, who was flanked by two more muscular witches, one covered in a considerable amount of tattoos from head to toe. Bringing up the rear was a beautiful brunette that snorted at the sight of dad being so vulnerable.

          I wanted to lash out, to wipe the smiles off their faces and show that they hadn't beaten a Lupine just yet. But I wasn't stupid. I kept quiet, kept low, knowing that the moment would come soon enough. It didn't help ease the knot tightening in my stomach – they wanted dad alive, it seemed, but for how long?

          The tattooed witch shoved dad in the car and slammed the door shut behind him. He leaned close to Kate.
"What do we do about the girl?"
Kate shrugged. "She's no more than a child. What can she do?" I dug my nails into the soil. Did she want to see the wendigo for reference? Oh wait...
"But what if she comes after her father?" he continued.
Another shrug. "You know how the ritual works, Felix. If she wants to put herself in danger like that, then she can be kept as a spare. And if her father doesn't cooperate then, well..." She glanced at dad, her stare cold and unfeeling. "She might prove to be a better replacement."

          I held my breath. A spare. Whatever this ritual was must have ran on bloodlines, leaving me in danger as well. Even worse, Ollie...

          My throat gurgled as the nausea hit me all at once.

          The witches packed themselves into the car and headed off down the gravel, emptiness washing over me as dad was taken out of sight.

          When I was sure they were gone, I climbed out from the undergrowth and stretched out my arms. Dad was gone. I was alone. We were at risk. We were all at risk from them, if this so-called ritual really ran on bloodlines.

          I took a breath. Dad was gone, but I would get him back. I'd take a moment, fix myself and get back out there with a plan.

          Lupine's didn't quit. Especially not on each other.

Welcome to the first chapter of Amongst the Order.

This story has been in the works for a while and its very different to anything I've written before. If anyone has any feedback, opinions or theories about the story, feel free to comment below! Also, don't forget to vote and add this story to your library for notifications of when it will be updated.

I'm excited to tell this story and hope you are just as keen to read it.

Thank you for reading,

- Caitlin xx