The Sentinels and all the living creatures, look on with mortal fear

The question asked caused the old creature to look upon the cub with different eyes. She knew the word; his presumption about her had been correct, but who else might have supposed this? We are no witch, came his deep tones, tinged with wonderment, We are servants of the witches; we are guides. We have been taught of all powers, though it is not for us to work the witches magic. He was not ashamed of this; the great gray owl knew his place and his purpose. In all of his years, he had not found the proper pupil. He imagined this was why he lived to this day; for he had never met another quite so old as he. His father he did not know of, and his mother lived on in another. The known cycle.

He did not know who the other spoke of. A sister, perhaps. The magic might live in the bloodline, though he had his doubts on the other witches strength. We will see, he decided. The owl found himself entranced and enchanted by her, but when the youth looked away the spell was broken. Wordlessly he took off into the sky, feeling the energy of her devils magic. No charlatan or trickster was this cub, and she had claimed nothing to him. The old creature knew he had found his home, here, and felt renewed.