Ember's ears perk up, as he lifts his head off his front paws. Spotting Hope-Star he chuffs, and starts wagging his tail.
Hope-Star paces up onto the bluff. One foot. Then the other. Move and keep moving. These actions seem deliberate now, as if she has to remember how to walk. A very fresh spread of clawmarks, spaced as wide as crinos fingers, skips down one of her flanks. She seems to be moving toward the fire by force of will. But she expects the cub, and she greets him with the barest trace of a tail-flick in return. The edginess, the anger, is drained away, and there's a sort of numb peacefulness about her. Good evening, cub.
Ember jumps to his feet as the Strider's injuries become apparent. Hackles raise and a low growl builds quickly in his throat. His tail is held out from his body, rigid and unmoving. What happened? Do you need help? Who did this to you?
Hope-Star takes another step, another, and then her feet slow to a stop like someone in one of those dreams where the legs won't move. Those I called packmates. And there is no help.
Ember moves over to her quickly, wanting to help her closer to the fire, but entirely uncertain if he would be doing her injuries more damage. The hunt is done then. As is your time with Wolverine?
Hope-Star sees his silent offer and follows slowly, rousing herself. Her own blood prickles the black pelt over the shallow cuts as she moves, but they are not deep, nor serious, and cannot be what is hurting her: not that Ember has seen enough battle-wounds to judge them well. The little elder sighs softly. The hunt is not finished, but I will follow Wolverine no more. It has taken my heart.
Ember almost starts to gnaw his lip, but instead flicks his tail back and forth restlessly, letting out a brief whine. He is unsure what to say in answer to her last comment. Striving to fill the gap of silence with something, he offers what help he can. Do you need anything? Food, water, a blanket?
Hope-Star sinks to the ground beside him and sets her muzzle on her paws. It is a wound too deep for healing. But it's no good chewing on the stump of a missing limb. Just tell me something, Ember. Give me hope. The fire of my life has gone out. Tell me about -you-, about your hopes and dreams.Ember's tail whips back and forth still, worrying as he is. He nods a little, chuffing at her request. Where to start... He takes a seat near her, flopping over on one side.
Ember tilts his head, ears flattening out to the sides as he thinks. I used to daydream all the time when I was a kid. The usual stuff. Being able to fly, having big animal friends to protect me and show my bullies that I could fight back just as hard. He snorts at that. So much for needing animal protectors.
Hope-Star tries to focus on him, although it's clear from her subdued manner and the tightness around her eyes that she bears some pain far deeper than a few gouges. But she's quiet. Quieter than he has seen her. The kiss of Wolverine is gone from her, and that restless, caged-in anger has left her. She looks somehow smaller and younger as she listens, head cocked to one side, one ear up and one ear sideways.
Ember takes a breath, brushing his tail against a foreleg. Most of all I..I daydreamed about doing something. Something memorable, something legendary. Nothing like slaughtering dragons, or creating a vaccine for a disease. Just..something I could never really pinpoint, but that would make others look at me and say 'Wow, he's responsible for this?' Arrogant and childish, I know. But nonetheless I still daydream about that sometimes. About doing something that will put me in the history books, and the minds of quite a few people. That will make them think of me in a good light, and maybe help them through their own dark times.
Ember's tail idly toys with a piece of blackened wood that rests on the pile of cold ashes around the fire ring. Maybe that's the dream I have a problem seeing. That I want to help others, and be the one that's there for them, when no one else can or will.
Hope-Star licks her teeth. I think you can. If the sorrow of elders does not darken your sky too soon. You carry that spark in you.
Ember chuffs and shakes his head. Sorrow can only eclipse things for a time, before it is burned away by the light. Remember that, Sepdet. You may be my elder, but sometimes I think you forget that there are easier paths out of the deepest pits.
Hope-Star has tread them all. I have come back from the spiral. I have come back from those of friends. I have come back from my brother's death. I will come back from this. But it -hurts-. And I see nothing right now.
Hope-Star knows there is still a sky and that I will find it. But now it's dark. Cub, I hope you never understand what I mean.
Ember nods. If you're lost in darkness, then find some light. Something to show you where you are, to show you what you still have.
Hope-Star's tail flicks quietly. That is why I came. There are still cubs. You are not the one I've lost. No one could be. But you are the future.
Ember grins slightly, chuffing encouragement. Then consider me one of those glowing green chemical..stick things, from Halloween. Or a flashlight, whichever works best.
Hope-Star fails to parse all of that, but her nose wrinkles slightly in a ghost of humor. She cannot really laugh yet, but at least she can try. Then she sobers again. There is something else you could do to help. If your elders agree.
Ember nods once, tail flopping up and down. If they hesitate to agree, I'll just have to persuade them. What do you need from me?
Hope-Star tilts one ear back and southward. The island where we hunted. We have killed the banes now, but the Spirals who polluted it have left their filth and blood behind. The spirits are gone. They will not return until it is washed clean and safe. Garou must go there, clean the rocks and the stones, tend to the wounded plants, show great care. Garou must go there and protect it. Garou must go there and walk sacredly, in whatever way they know how.
Ember nods a little, tail still flopping around in interest. Do you want my help in restoring the island?
Hope-Star wants this, yes. But not yet. First I must settle things with the pack I left. -They- would rather kill me than let me defend the island now. And I cannot let them back to it. We killed the Wyrm-spirits there. But the killing did not stop. They slew an innocent human there. My friend.
Ember's eyes go wide, as he pieces together something in his mind. Your friend..the one I met here? Chloe?
Hope-Star meets Ember's gaze directly for perhaps the first time, and it's almost painful to see the emptiness in her eyes where fire, mystery, or secrets were held before. Yes. She came to heal us, when the battle was done, with her magic. They slew her from behind while she was tending me.
Ember lets out a sharp, mournful whine. He feels a degree of anger, confusion, and sadness that someone who was good, and nice could be killed in such a manner. Why would they do such a thing, when she was just there to heal?
The truth is too much for the Strider, although she gives it gently, movements slow and quiet, trying to break this news without causing more pain than she herself feels. She huddles down and shuts her eyes. They are Garou.
Ember shakes his head, incredulous. They would kill her simply because she is not Garou, and they are? But she was there to help! It makes no sense.
Hope-Star tries to explain a thing she cannot herself believe. I told you. Garou do not trust a human with such powers. They fear her. They hate her. She had offended my alpha, Nightflash, by coming into his pack's territory before. It is against our way to tolerate tresspass. But she meant no harm! Gaia, she meant -no- harm!
Hope-Star's whine pitches up into a pained but brief howl, with her last words.
Ember's head sinks onto his paws, still trying to process what happened. I think I see now a small portion of what you must feel. That she died was bad enough, but that she died so needlessly, and for such a foolish reason...
Hope-Star shudders. She called to us as we were leaving. She offered healing. That Fianna, Heart-of-Fury, just -attacked-. Immediately. I threw myself at him to stop him. I did not see what happened next. They say she put both of us to sleep to stop us killing one another. They say she offered healing again. They threatened to kill her if she did not leave. And she did not leave!
Hope-Star whines a little of her rage against her dead friend's folly. She stopped to heal me before going. I awoke with no wounds, although I was nearly dead of the battle and Heart-of-Fury's claws. I went back for her body. They had attacked her from behind. She was healing -me- when she died.
Ember snorts, growling. Garou speak of Gaia, and the glory of fighting for her. The glory of destroying the Wyrm and the Weaver. What glory is their in backstabbing one who was defenseless, and only trying to help a friend?
Hope-Star does not know. Ember, this is why I am not the Hope I used to be. Things like this. They make me despair.
Ember chuffs quietly, ears flattening back against his head. I see now why you speak of sorrow.
Ember lifts his head slightly. Is there anything you can do, anyway to challenge Heart-of-Fury, or the ones who killed Chloe?
Little Bear has connected.
Hope-Star shakes herself. I can't without shedding blood. She would not want that.
Ember nods and shakes his head again. It's things like this that make me question if being garou is all that great.
Hope-Star sighs. I am wrong. They did not kill her because all Garou are like this. They killed her because these -are- desperate days, and blindness, fear, and stupidity are not just human ills. Garou have them too, but we are deadly.
Ember chuffs. Maybe, but stupidity and fear still do not fully excuse what they did.
Little Bear trots in, growling low in his throat. No, it does not. And they will pay for what they have done.
Ember's ears perk, and his head rises from his paws as he spots Little Bear. There is some strange consolation in knowing another shares a desire for vengeance, or at least setting things right.
Hope-Star turns her head towards Little Bear with a whine. What good will it do to spill out the blood of the caern over this? She is -gone-. I would rip their hearts out or let them eat -mine- if it would bring her back. But she was a healer. I can't give her blood for a tombstone. Even that of her murderers.
Ember sighs, head bowing. He stays quiet, intending to listen more before he says anything. He needs to tread carefully on such a topic.
Long distance to the room: Hope-Star can't begin to express how much I miss her. Imaginary as she was. She's been a beautiful thing in my life for 5 years now.
Little Bear nudges Ember in greeting, a bit more roughly than necessary. Then it is good you will not be part of the fight. Go weep for the dead if you can stomach it, but no tears of mine will fall until my hands are red with the blood of her murderers.
Hope-Star growls. I don't want to bury you too. I'm going to need help. I cannot protect the island alone. I will die doing it, but that will not help either.
Little Bear will not fall to the likes of them. I am no trusting healer to give them my back. And I have plans. What island?
Ember's tail thwaps against Little Bear's flank, returning the greeting.
Hope-Star lifts and turns her head to look southwards. The alpha asked me to keep her murderers from defiling her grave. I am going to tend Lake Arthur, make it good and beautiful and pure as the place she loved. I am going to bring back the spirits of purity, wild things, green things, growing things, tend it as I once tended the caern I loved. But I can't do it alone. Nightflash will come, and I will have to fight him, and he is a better fighter than me.
Little Bear thinks Nightflash will not live to see the island again, much less come against you.
Hope-Star growls at Little Bear. I am an elder with many seasons of battles on you, Wendigo. I did not survive this long by underestimating my enemies. Nightflash is my match, and maybe my better, in fighting. I do not think you can beat him.
Ember at least speaks up, watching his tail flick ashes around. Is there anyone you can choose to champion you in the fight against Nightflash?
Little Bear did not say he would beat him.
Little Bear did not say he would even fight him. Another with more claim than I to his blood will take him.
Hope-Star eyes Little Bear with a shudder. I think you do wrongly. The Lady never wanted Garou fighting over her. But if you must, you must. But will you -use- Heartsfire-rhya's grief as a weapon? After what you have told me before?
Little Bear thinks the lady never wanted Garou fighting over her spilled guts, either. She is dead. All her healing and all her helping and all her loving, and still she is dead. She wants nothing now. But we have kin still alive who are in need. We have enemies now who think they can kill Wendigo kin and nothing will come of it. Heartsfire-rhya is a warrior. He will wash away his grief in blood as his kind do, and we will be all the stronger for it. For as he kills Nightflash as I cannot, I will kill Finds-the-Lost as he cannot.
Hope-Star's gaze do not flinch as she hears the Wendigo's plan. I think this is wrong, but I do not betray secrets. Only consider what I say. If Heartsfire-rhya is a tooth you plan to send into the heart of your enemies, then that makes him your friend. Only Shadow Lords use those they despise to win battles.
Little Bear snarls. And yet they do win those battles, don't they. The high road is fine for those who have already lost their land, but those of us with little land left still have reason to fight.
Hope-Star snaps her jaws at Little Bear. So you will become as cruel as Nightflash then? That I won't honor either.
Ember's brow tufts quirk at the unfamiliar tribe name, but he lets it pass, content to just listen.
Little Bear bares his teeth, hackles raising. Have you not seen how they repay kindness? SHE IS DEAD! Better she had left us all to rot and lived than-- He breaks off, turning his face, then his body, away. I am sorry.
Hope-Star closes her eyes and sinks down. She is too tired to fight, and the Wendigo's rage is no more than wind howling against a dead tree. She barely reacts at all.
Ember startles slightly at Little Bear's outburst, but settles back as he apologizes. If I might interject an opinion, I think mourning Chloe's death and ensuring the island's restoration right now are the most important things. This..Nightflash deserves some form of retaliation, whether physical or verbal, or whatever, does not matter. But his crimes and his punishment pale in comparison to the fact that there is quite a bit to do to get spirits back on the island.
Little Bear cannot let this pass. There will be blood for this. Heartsfire wants it. He is a warrior. I merely remind him of it and let him know that none of her killers will escape. I have no fight with you, Sepdet-rhya. He looks at Ember, arching a furry eyebrow, and stares at him.
Hope-Star sighs. Ember is right, and that is my task. But I will give you a thing to help you, Little Bear, even if I think you are wrong.
Ember stares back at Bear for a moment, before his tail and ears start fidgeting, and he glances from Sepdet back to Little Bear. Let me guess, I've overstepped my bounds and should keep quiet?
Hope-Star gives Ember a mournful ear-flick, then tries to explain her thought without bursting into a growl of sheer anger.
Hope-Star faces Little Bear bleakly, lifting her head from her paws again and opening her eyes. Nightflash says the alpha once gave him permission to do what he wished to the Lady, because she tresspassed on land his pack claimed. (The Strider bristles here, evidently having some issue with the claim). He says that Lake Arthur was his tribe's territory too. So he claims Heartsfire-rhya's words gave him the right to kill the Lady. Tell this to Heartsfire-rhya, if you wish to rouse his wrath even more.
Little Bear chuffs approvingly. Thank you. I know you think this is stupid and pointless, but it cannot go unanswered. You know that.
Hope-Star's eyes drop. Yes. But I do not like any of the answers I have been given. I am a maker, Little Bear. I was never meant for Wolverine's claws.
Ember grumbles something to the affect of only sociopathic Ahrouns and Get being meant for Wolverine's claws.
Hope-Star shivers. And I feel her hand on my cheek, as if she were still beside me. Little Bear, she speaks louder to me than any of you. It is like a piece of me, silent forever.
Little Bear chuffs, nosing the elder gently. You will have your green growing things again, Sepdet-rhya. But you will have them in safety without the threat of the treacherous Gaian hanging over you. The Get who helped will also die, and if Rides-Fire tries to stop either he will join them. Whether Heart-of-Fury dies will be left to his alpha. I would not take that from him. But there will be death from this. We are Garou.
Hope-Star shivers, but her vision has turned away from them and inward once more. She turns a circle and throws herself back down. Jackals cannot cry or weep. She simply curls into a small ball and goes quiet and unmoving, a thin paw over her eyes.
Ember glances to the fellow Wendigo, getting his attention with a tail thwap. He nods in Sepdet's direction and arches both brows, in a 'Can we do anything to help her feel better?' query.
Little Bear looks at Ember, eyes old and tired. He sits beside her, offering her physical comfort in the way that wolves do.
Ember rests his head on his paws, forgetting any thoughts of humor, to lighten everyone's mood.
Hope-Star doesn't seem to register his presence for a while, but eventually she raises her head and turns to lick the larger wolf a few times, along his ruff. I will run. That is a Strider's way. To the island. I will go do something there.
Little Bear lifts a paw hesitantly. Are you sure you should be alone?
Long distance to the room: Hope-Star acks. I forgot to mention when Leonard came in that Sepdet has fresh clawmarks on one side from some crinos. Perhaps they were on the wrong side from him.
Hope-Star stirs and pulls herself to her feet with a visible effort of will. You must fight your battles. This is mine. I must cleanse and heal. Or the grief will kill me as surely as they will.
Little Bear looks over the Strider, eyes narrowing as they catch something red and raw. He sniffs at the wounds on her side. Who?
Hope-Star snorts. Who else?
Little Bear growls. Why.
Hope-Star exhales. Why not? It is Heart-of-Fury. There was no love between us. Now he means to cull me. I will probably have to kill him before he has healed, or he may succeed.
Little Bear growls, darkly pleased. Do it. That ignorant drunk is the one that needs culling. Then their whole pack will be dead and they will have none left to avenge them.
From afar, Little Bear is getting downright bloodthirsty.
Hope-Star's tail droops. I am tired of Wolverine, she repeats yet again. I am going back to Salmon, who made me Garou in the first place.
Little Bear perks up. Salmon?
Ember swivels one ear at the Strider, letting Little Bear's question fall in place of his own.
Hope-Star is starting to walk away, but turns back. On my Rite of Passage, I helped kill a bane and cleanse a river. It was the spawning-place of Grandmother Salmon, the spirit-mother of all the red-fish-who-survive. She loves me. It is the oldest gift I wear.
Little Bear wags his tail. Salmon is very important to the people of this place, as well. The true people.
Ember recalls a few mentions of salmon's importance, in his tribes' stories. Sounds like a good totem.
Hope-Star sighs. Yes, Little Bear. I know. Sometime I have to tell you all that story. But it is not a thing I am proud of. It is the crime I did against your people.
Little Bear ehs? Involving Salmon?
Hope-Star shakes herself. No. But on that same journey I...
Hope-Star pauses and looks between the two of them. It will make you angry. I am not sure it is a good thing to tell now. I meant to give it to you, and the others of your tribe here, as part of my Contrition.
Little Bear sighs and would hear it. I am already angry, but I am going to pack with you I should know. Yes?
Hope-Star sighs. Yes. It is a truth I need to give you. She looks to Squall. And you. So.
Ember shrugs once. I don't anger easily. Unless you're going to tell me I can't ever eat at Taco Bell, then I might get pissy. Hope-Star cannot laugh at Ember, but at least her tail flicks once as she shifts up to the shape she always used to wear.
Hope-Star contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
You shift into Glabro form.
Ember almost starts to shift, then lets out a short growl, remembering something. He pacifies himself by sitting up and using his tail to stir up a cloud of ashes.
Sepdet moves over slightly to sit next to the cub and lay her hand on his back. There are goosebumps on her bare arms beneath the faint dusting of fur, but she doesn't seem to notice as she begins to speak.
Little Bear moves into the cave, emerging in homid and clad in his sweatsuit.
Sepdet's voice becomes a flinty chant, dusky and soft with the pain that's never far from her thoughts now. ~Seven years ago, when my elder, Horus, found a dead caern in this forest and gave his last days breathing life back into it, there were no Wendigo here. They were only a rumor of terror told to us cubs to make us behave: 'Keep well thy caern, or someday the terror of the north will come howling out of the snow and kill us all.' That is what they said, when I was a cub. The Wendigo's hate had frozen them cold, and the safest way to deal with them was never.~
Sepdet's face twists with faint irony as she looks between them, naming them with a gentle pat on Ember's flank. ~The Gatekeeper of that time, Stormcrow-rhya, a very great Uktena, set a task for a pack forming under Uktena as its totem. In Alaska, he said, what was now water had been land, and there the ancestors of Uktena, Wendigo, and Croatan had come across from the west when the world was new. The new pack was to seek a burial-site on an island there, and retrieve some fetishes which would help protect our caern. I and two friends went with them for our Rite of Passage, to prove we could act as adults on a dangerous mission.~
Leonard frowns at this, settling next to the Strider and bringing his knees up to his chin.
~But the journey would take us across the dreaded lands of the Wendigo.~ she continues in a low voice. ~So Stormcrow-rhya made a secret moonbridge into the heart of their country, the other end held by a Wendigo who owed him a favor. Old White-Eye welcomed us kindly and told us the paths we must take. When the Guardians of White-Eye's caern caught our scent and came for us, he guided us to a canyon where we might hide. As I was leading my city-born comrades down safe and secretly, White-Eye stayed behind to delay his own people, and they slew him, and my heart wept for him.~ And still does, to judge by the tightening of her jaw at the old memory.
Leonard nods, apparently waiting for the rest of the story.
Sepdet says, ~We had a long and difficult journey, and there were other perils to overcome, not least in persuading the Uktena spirit who guarded the tomb. Along the way I and the two cubs went on a separate path for a while, and that is where we destroyed the sawmill to save Grandmother Salmon.~ Her hand moves to the battered wooden fish-pendant on her breast, a note of pride briefly intruding on her sober tale. ~But on the homeward journey, the Wendigo, who had been hunting us all that time, caught up with us.~
Ember chuffs a little, having a feeling the Wendigo didn't welcome them with open arms...
Sepdet shudders. ~The hunters had the trick of hiding from the eye, so we had no warning of their ambush. Suddenly something I could not see struck me from behind, laying open my shoulders and calves with its claws. I fell down. The cold air shimmered before my eyes like a desert mirage, and I knew that the north wind had come to kill us. My packmates began to fight for their lives. I struggled to sit up but could not help; I could not stand or raise my arms above my shoulders.~
Sepdet bares her teeth at the memory, faint anger creeping back into her voice over the edge of guilt. ~I saw my rite-sister, Dia Firedrums, bleeding and grappling with someone she could not see. I saw my other rite-sister Asks-For-Directions, a -true- Child of Gaia, struck from behind as I had been, and rage rose in me, as it seldom has until these last few moons. Who were these mighty warriors, who struck tiny cubs and sweet Gaian healers from behind without the courage to show themselves? So I drew up the shotgun which I had been carrying, braced it between my knees against my chest, and shot my friend's attacker as he stood over her body. He was visible by that time, and I saw him die.~
Leonard nods, arms wrapped around his knees. He watches the theurge.
Sepdet sags and sets her chin on her hands. ~We survived somehow, with wounds we would carry all our days. It was a year before I saw what I had done.The face of the Wendigo I shot began to haunt me, and so when the north wind -did- return, a Wendigo pack howling out of the north that challenged the Wheel Renewed and threatened to wrest it from the sept, I stood with those few who would not fight them. I have served your tribe ever since as well as my oaths allow. But this I do with your blood on my hands, and the dust of tresspass on my feet.~
Ember tilts his head. Do you regret killing the Wendigo?
Sepdet stares at Ember. ~Of course. I had to defend my friends. But I should -never- have been on your lands. This is why I owe you Contrition.~Leonard nods. "It is a brave thing you do, telling us this."
Ember nods once. But you were put there by another, on a mission. You are not the one at fault, though I still see no crime in passing through another's land so long as your intention is peace.
Leonard says "Their intention wasn't peace. They were there to loot the graves of the dead."
Sepdet shakes her head faintly and looks at Leonard. ~Exactly. I have done a -wrong- thing. But I did not do an -evil- thing. I owe your tribe Contrition for my tresspass, and for the blood I had to spill.~Ember's brows furrow, obviously confused. Still, why doesn't the responsibility lie with the one who ordered the mission in the first place?
Ember flicks his tail, ears flattening to the sides. And what exactly is Contrition.
Leonard glances at Ember. "Keeping watch over Chloe's burial place is a just act of Contrition."
Leonard says "It means you right that which is wrong."
Sepdet rolls her shoulders. ~He owes it too, but it is my part I atone for. Contrition means offering atonement to a spirit you have wronged.~ She grimaces at Leonard. ~That is -not- Contrition. Contrition is given by the ones who have done the wrong thing. I guard her for love.~
Long distance to the room: Sepdet hms. Actually, Leo may be right. It's a matter of interpretation. La. :)
Ember nods once, mulling that over before glancing to Sepdet. What act of Contrition would you offer then, for the Wendigo?
From afar, to the room, Leonard grins.
Sepdet bows her head. ~I tell you this story, because it is ignorance... and misunderstanding... on both sides that led to my mistake. I teach your cubs, I heal your wounded, I offer my counsel and my respect and any skills I have. If you ask me a favor, I will do my best to accomplish it. At first I did this merely because I should. Now I do it because I know your people, and the only loved ones I have left are Wendigo's blood.~
Leonard nods, again, smiling a little. "Good. I wouldn't want you to think of us just as a debt you had to pay."
Ember nuzzles Sepdet's hand. You are a friend, and a teacher...and occasionally a pain in the tail. That's all the Contrition I need. If others of the tribe need more, that's their deal.
Ember chuffs at Leonard. No kidding, I don't want to feel like the IRS.
Leonard blinks at Ember. "The what?"
Ember just stares at Leonard before snorting and chuckling. A governmental agency that investigates tax evasion, and audits people that may have lied on their tax forms. Basically they harass taxpayers into forking over their money.
Sepdet relaxes quietly; she isn't too surprised at their acceptance, but there is still some relief in the set of her shoulders. Ember's comments are totally incomprehensible.
From afar, to the room, Leonard stops Ember now before someone jumps down his throat later :) Dude, you're in wolf form. You think they have words for money, much less audit or tax evasion? ;)
From afar, to the room, Ember grins. Hey, no one was catching me on it, I rolled with it. It's either that or try and write it out with my tail in the dirt.
Long distance to the room: Sepdet was trying to figure out how to say what Leonard said. Yeah. Always remember, when you're in wolf, that you can only express things with wolf body language. Garou must have developed -some- ways to convey Garou ideas like Gaia, spirit, klaive, even 'kinfolk'. But not much human stuff. Think of it as a challenge, a game, to see how to express things in wolfy ways. :)
From afar, to the room, Leonard thinks its definitely a challenge. You can't even say human names in wolf form.
From afar, to the room, Ember grimaces a little, but nods, lesson learned.
From afar, to the room, Leonard tries to be really nice about it because his ass got jumped on rather rudely when he was a newbie.
Ember tilts his head at Leonard, snorting. Should I try explaining?
Leonard says "Is it important?"
Sepdet shakes her head. ~Well. Perhaps you begin to see why I do not deal well with blood-feuds.~ She falls quiet at the banter.
Ember grins. Only to two legged.
Ember snorts at Sepdet. I do not understand half of what the Garou do.
Leonard frowns at Sepdet, nodding. "I did not say you were not wise in your beliefs. I know they will not see things as they are. They will ignore what they've done to us and only look at what we do to them and use it to justify killing us all. As they've always done." He stands, angrily. "But they can't just get away with it! They have to pay somehow! Otherwise what else will they think when they remember they killed one of ours and got away with it! Who's next? Robin? Joe? You? Me? Our cubs? There are only a handful of us here now, this would be the perfect excuse to wipe us out. Again. But we die slow or we die fast, we still die."
Sepdet passes a hand before her eyes. ~We are Garou, trained to defend Gaia. We defend our lands, our loves, our beliefs with the claws and teeth she gave us. That is our path. But it is a terrible thing, the power to slay, when you don't know what you're doing.~
Sepdet looks back at Leonard grimly. ~Yes. We all die. So it's how we live that matters.~ She rises to her feet. ~If you are satisfied with my tale, I am going to the Lady now.~
Ember growls low, at the thought of others killing off his tribemates or himself.
Long distance to the room: Sepdet doesn't particularly want to stop RPing with you two, but it seems weird to promise to guard a place night and day and then not go there for 3 days. ;)
From afar, to the room, Ember chuckles and nods. No problem.
From afar, to the room, Leonard grins. Damn.
From afar, to Leonard, Sepdet, and Ember, Chloe waves. Mind company?
You paged Chloe, Leonard, and Ember with 'I was just about to head back to the island, but would be glad for an excuse to -stay- here. Please do.'.
Leonard shakes his head, kicking viciously at one of the rocks that ring the fire. "Go on."
Winter has arrived.
Sepdet's shoulders slump at Little Bear's tone of voice, but she starts away from the area where they're sitting and heads for the trail, footsteps scuffing the dry grasses of late autumn.
A harsh, throaty bird-call sounds from somewhere far above--the sound of a predator-bird. Ember's hackles raise as he jumps to his feet, eyes searching for the sound from above.
Leonard immediately leaps for Ember, tackling him and shouting out a warning to Sepdet.
Leonard pages to the room: The last time there was a bird above me, it turned out to be a huge eagle that dropped me from about 100 feet in the air.:)
From afar, to the room, Ember shudders, appreciates Leonard's bodyguardness.
Sepdet barely notices the hoarse cry, but Leonard's yell brings her to a halt, and she turns slowly, making no effort to dodge if there's danger above.
Black wings can be seen against a ragged cloud; the bird is larger, far larger than a crow would be. This black-winged form spirals down slowly, toward the bluff and the Garou gathered there--in particular, toward the Strider, claws outstretched as if it will land on the Garou's shoulder.
Ember starts to thrash, trying to get free from Leonard's grasp, before realizing his intent. He satisfies himself with working his head free and growling at the bird-thing as it comes down.
Sepdet waits for the impact of claws mutely. If there's recognition in her eyes, she doesn't speak or make a sound as it lands.
Leonard pages to the room: Not big enough to carry her off, though, I take it? :)
You paged the room with 'Hey, I'm pretty small. In lupus I bet it could. ;)'.
Leonard hisses a sharp, "Hide!" in the cub's ear, standing and pushing him towards the underbrush in one movement before shifting up to crinos, ripping his precious sweats.
Leonard pages to the room: There go my only warm clothes. Sniff.
Ember reluctantly sprints into the underbrush, wriggling down deep and watching the scene with a measure of anticipation, and fear.
Winter backwings to a landing on Sepdet's shoulder, which seems to be barely enough of a perch for him. The raven is large, the black feathers bearing a faint opal sheen. *Night Star.* The speech is a rushing of wind, the play of feathers during the long glide downward--and it is only for the diminutive Strider's ears.
Sepdet sways slightly under the weight, struggling to keep her balance. When the wings have stilled about her head, she presses her cheek against the raven's soft side, ignoring the pinch of claws on her bare shoulders. ~Hello, old friend,~ she whispers, in a way both Garou and spirit will understand. ~Are you well?~
Little Bear pages to the room: So do I attack the birdie or...ah. Damn.
You paged the room with 'Luckily I'd already walked away, so you'd need a round to shift and a round to close the distance. Sorry!'.
Ember pokes his nose out of the brush and directs a quiet whine at Little Bear. It's Sepdet's friend? Does that mean I can come out?
Little Bear growls low, eying the bird balefully as he shifts back down, slowly, and looks at his tattered clothes. "Damn." He looks over his shoulder, sighing, and nods. "Stay near the cave mouth, though."
Ember leaves the brush, trotting quickly to the mouth of the cave, sending furtive glances at the two elders and the bird-thing. He sits just inside the cave's entrance, wondering what exactly is going on.
*No.* The black eyes glitter, and for a moment the talons pierce skin. Despite the dark-seeming mood, though, the bird leans its head close to the Strider's, rubbing against her briefly. *Cold. Silent. No one to fly to. The defender has fallen into grief-madness.*
Sepdet closes her eyes tightly at the answer, squeezing back tears, but catches some of the fuss going on behind her and turns slowly and carefully in place to face back towards the cave. ~He is a friend of the Lady's,~ she explains, raising her flattened voice so that it cracks. Then her voice drops again, choked with pain. ~Cold and silent, yes. But we will make the island pure and loved again as she should have wished.~
Long distance to the room: Sepdet realized belatedly that Sepdet's misunderstanding the Raven's meaning, but goes with that anyhow. Sep's not thinking too clearly these days.
Ember glances up at Little Bear, edging out of the cave a few feet before stopping and sitting again. He starts the slow work of digging flecks of bark, and bits of twig from his coat, glancing often at the others.
Little Bear's eyes flash with hurt, masked by anger. "Where was it when she fell? Why didn't it help her, or warn her or... something?"
Winter croaks harshly, flipping back his wings and balancing as she moves. *Sacred.* It pins the two Wendigo with a flat-black gaze, and then observes, *Her mate would still soak the ground with blood, and sing the rage song to the four winds. What of that?*
Sepdet looks up at Winter and gives a coughing laugh that sounds like she's sick. ~I tried to turn him from that path. But my heart sings the same song. And what would you have me do, when Heart-of-Fury comes to kill me? What would you have me do, when the murderer comes to spit on her grave? I know what you ask. But there is no answer.~
To Leonard, she adds softly, ~Where were you? Where was Joseph? We cannot be all places.~
Little Bear decides to answer that with a few rocks. He picks them up and heaves them with all his might at the stream down at the bottom of the hill. "I can answer. Kill them. All of them."
Winter's gaze is hard, focused on Leonard with an unsettling sharpness. *Blood-son of the land, and bloodthirsty.* Its speech is a hunter's cry, a beating of wings, the wind rushing past as the predator dives. *Who are you?* Dark wings half-spread, as if the raven might launch itself from Sepdet's shoulder.
Much snorting and grumbling come from the cub, as he thrashes his head, rapidly lolling his tongue and trying to spit out a piece of twig. At last he spits it out, and adjusts his legs, wrapping his tail around himself to one side, watching the bird-thing.
Sepdet shudders and reaches with an open hand after the wind left by the spirit, although there's more claw marks on her now than before. Only belatedly does she remember that Leonard may not hear the thoughts pitched beyond mortal speech, and gasps falteringly, ~He asks who you are.~
Long distance to Winter: Sepdet notes she's got fresh slashmarks down the side from some Garou or other. (Guess who.)
From afar, to the room, Winter spoke so that the cub could understand, actually. :>
Little Bear clenches his jaw, not looking at the bird. "I am Sasquatch."
A dry sound comes from the raven--something that might almost be a croak of amusement, if the creature is capable of it. Dark, dark amusement. *I have shared his prey. You are not he.*
Sepdet sinks down to a half-crouch, one knee up and one flat against the ground, cupping opposite elbows with her hands and watching the raven with a ghost of hunger. She seems tensed to move, maybe to run, but for the moment she holds still.
Ember's eyes go wide, and he ducks his head to avoid any outbreaks of laughter. He mutters in Leonard's direction. I thought I was the Ragabash here.
Little Bear glances at Ember. "Sasquatch is what Wendigo went by before his heart was frozen."
Winter launches himself from the Strider's shoulder, wings beating twice before it arrows across the bluff to the Wendigo. The raven banks past, and glides up to a neat landing on a jagged edge of rock--looking down at the Garou, the black eyes holding that unsettling sharpness. Something about that gaze is familiar.
Ember chuffs, not knowing that until now. Well, I was going to say you really don't smell like you're Sasquatch.
Long distance to Cari: Sepdet asks idly if you remember the Cirque Du Soleil lady hanging from the red silky things on the ceiling, and that song, Let Me Fall.
Cari pages: Hell yeah. Rest of my life.
Long distance to Cari: Sepdet hears it all the time in my head, and it seems apt yet again.
Little Bear looks up, watching the bird. "I am He-Who-Brings-The-Buffalo-Home, talesinger of the Wendigo."
Ember struggles not to let out a growl as the bird-thing moves closer. He paces over to the fire ring to be further away from the bird-thing's new position. Ember promptly flops down in the mound of white ashes and charred wood, at the center of the fire ring. A cloud of ash lifts into the air, small flurries joining it as the cub rolls on his back in an effort to fill his coat with the ash, and generally just to humor himself.
Sepdet sees it, watching the Raven silently, and her mouth tightens into a strained line. Abruptly she bends her head and cups her hands to her eyes, another pang of memory passing over her like a line of rain.
Winter half-spreads his wings. *Child of Wendigo's blood. She was of the blood of the land, and another land. Claimed by Purity until she fell into the dark. She was--* The spirit's "speech" breaks into a hunting-scream of rage, absolute fury, wings outstretched as if he stoops to the kill. *She.*
You paged Ember with 'I really wish Sepdet were in a mood to enjoy your antics properly. She'll get better. She always does. But right now, she is in terrible, terrible pain. :}'.
From afar, Ember grins. Ember is just going to have to bound over and share his new dusty-white self with Sepdet then.
Little Bear clenches his jaw again. "I tried to find her. For a month I tried to find her. Noone knew where she lived."
Sepdet raises her face again at the Raven's scream, a few sparse tears edging down her cheeks as her hands drop away.
Ember stops rolling in the ashes, as the bird-thing screeches. He gets to his feet and moves away from the bird-thing yet again, watching it over his shoulder as he moves over to Sepdet. He stops just short of running into her, and brushes her hand with his muzzle, leaving a dusty smudge of ash.
The raven is angry, now, moving restlessly on his talons, wings remaining hhalf-spread. *Too many hated. Never understood. She could have been an enemy. Instead she risked. Fought. Bled. Died.*
Sepdet flinches at the touch, missing the no-moon's approach in her haze. Still minding the Raven and Little Bear, she reaches down to run her tear-slicked fingers through Ember's hopelessly dusty ruff. ~Are you a ghost now too?~ she teases the cub in a shaky whisper.
Little Bear stares at the bird, eyes accusing. "We know all this. Why don't you go tell this to the sons of whores that killed her?"
Ember snorts, grinning and looking for all the world like a little kid who's just dumped flour all over himself in the kitchen. He licks her hand. No such thing as ghosts. I'm just a Ragabash trying to shine a little light for a friend.
Winter hisses angrily, talons scraping the rock. *They will never know the touch. Never know trust. Wrong to trust. She stumbled so many times. Never fell.*
Sepdet swallows and nods at the cub. ~You do well,~ she whispers to the youngster. ~I named you well.~
Little Bear looks at the dirt, folding his hands tightly across his chest. "She fell. At the end, she fell. It _was_ wrong to trust them." His voice carries more bitterness than his years should ever allow.
Sepdet is less strained with the bird's gaze fixed on another, although she watches it with a shadow of the regard she always gave its two-legged friend. The lines that jerk around her mouth and eyes silently echo the emotion behind the young Wendigo's words.
Ember turns, staying at Sepdet's side, but settling down onto the rock. He watches his tribemate and the bird-thing, still lost in parts of their converation.
The raven settles a little, flipping his wings back, giving Little Bear a hard stare.
Sepdet finds something inside her that's been still since her last loved pack dissolved. She makes a harsh noise in her throat that resolves into a song, hummed low and falteringly down in her chest where it barely sounds like a human voice at all. It's a melencholy, stumbling little tune, as it must be now, evoked by and evoking the deep sounds the Raven makes.
Little Bear glares up at the bird through a tangle of hair. "What? What do you want me to do? She's dead. Those that did it are going to die. What else can I do?"
*The wolf-born,* Winter screams. *The wolf-born hated her. She would not defend herself. She never would.*
Sepdet shudders and continues to sing softly. It's barely louder than the wind that gusts so often across the rocks and open bay of long dead grasses. Her voice cracks at the raven's blunt speech, and then staggers on.
Little Bear screams back. "And HE'LL DIE FOR IT! They both will, they all will. What else do you want me to do? Kill his warper kin? Kill all his kin? What?"
*Never,* the bird screams. *She would never kill them. Not unless they danced the Spiral. Not unless they turned to the dark.*
Ember eyes Little Bear and the bird-thing both, as apparently a screaming match ensues.
The raven's wings spread, dangerous, and he half-crouches.
Gradually the Strider's deep-voiced music, drawn from her almost unconsciously, resolves into gentle words, divorced completely from the angry exchange and the rage that flies between the bird and the man. She could be in another world (and to judge by the distance in her stare, she probably is).

Black feathers in the wind. Show me how it feels to fly.
Black feathers in your eyes. Show me wonders beyond my nature.
Black feathers in your hair. Share with me the shadow's danger.
Black feathers in your hands. Give me touch that understands.
Black feathers on my skin. Give me joy beyond my ken.
Black feathers on the ground. Give me strength to still go on.
Alone.
The raven's attention turns, sharply, to the Strider. He stares at the Garou, silent all of a sudden.
Sepdet meets the raven's gaze for a steady moment of pain, then turns away from all of them and resumes her earlier course with a slow step, headed for the lip of the hill.
With a despairing cry, the raven launches himself into the air, gliding from the bluff to seek out an updraft. He spirals upward for a time, and then banks to fly over the forest. Hunting.
Ember chuffs after Sepdet. Take care, friend. Gaia keep you in safety.
Little Bear snarls, more wolf than man-like. "They have turned to the dark. They killed one of us. For no reason. That's the Wyrm." He glances at Sepdet as the last words of her song echo back, nodding almost to himself, and he says softly, "She never would, and look where it got her. I'm not her."
Winter pages to the room: Aw. Thanks, y'all. That was touching.