His first memory was of chasing little animals through the undergrowth of the great pine forest. The smells of soft dirt and crunching foliage, the rush and joy of the exertion, were as important a part of life as the actual catching and devouring of the birds and rodents that were his prey. He was alive, and every fibre in his small body wanted to feel that.

Syn was the most playful and rapacious of his litter, and thus he lived through his first year. His mother and her cubs lived in the woods atop the great mountains, and times were hard when the snow fell, but he had the spirit to live. His mother, a strong and gentle wolf, had to expend much of her energy to keep him from straying too far though, and some of his siblings passed away unmourned. Syn managed to fight the elements without noticing.

The day that changed his life began with him sneaking off into a cave, away from his kin, to escape the harsh wind. Curiosity drove him deep into its depths, where he gradually began to sense another presence in the shadows. When he turned around on his four legs he saw a silhouette sitting in the cave entrance, that of a big gray lynx. He growled and sneered at the little feline, confident in his size, but the cat was not to be daunted. His aggression was responded to in kind, as the lynx hissed and meowed, but in a playful and theatrical manner. Angry, Syn felt a tingling in his limbs, and the next second he stood as erect as he could in the low cave, snarling. The cat froze and tilted its head. The new sensations of thought and pattern within his mind churning, Syn lunged at the lynx out of a mixture of frustration and fear. It disappeared in a blink of an eye. Syn stood outside in the wind, letting himself cool down. Instinctively he shifted back to all fours, and was about to run back from where he came, when he looked back towards the cave. In it sat a creature larger than himself, with two legs, looking at him. He ran as fast as he could to find his siblings.

He never found them. It seemed he was abandoned, or shunned by his very kin. Alone in the snow, he was fortunately able to fend for himself and catch a rabbit to eat now and then. Eventually he found other wolves, who changed as he did, and talked to him in a new language he understood.

The caern was a small one, but the ten or so wolves and men who guarded it taught him many things. His people, the Ute, were children of the Pure Lands, and their duty was to the great mother Gaia. His Rite of Passage was to find and be approved by Great Hawk, the totem of the caern, in the spirit world, which granted him insight into the tapestry of the worlds. He was named Walks-Inward, and given the rank of Cliath.

Many months later, Walks-Inward passed by a cave remarkably similar to the one he had come across during his First Change. The snow was gone, and he felt the soft dirt beneath his paws. Crawling in on all fours as he had back then, and but with confidence, he entered the darkness. Just then, a pair of green eyes opened. Seconds passed as Walks and the cat stared at each other, until Walks dared a question. 'Are you a defender of the Pure Lands and the Great Mother?' 'The Mother loves all but the wounds within herself. You see the skies, and gaze into my domain.' The lynx answered in the tongue of the wolves. And Walks understood.

They parted after many hours with promises to meet again, each having gained a friend. And when Walks looked back, he thought he saw a wolf, not unlike his mother, walking away into the undergrowth.