Returning Family

[hazlogs]

It is currently 20:00 Pacific Time on Fri Jan 31 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is raining lightly. The temperature is 47 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the west at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.95 and steady, and the relative humidity is 97 percent. The dewpoint is 46 degrees Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waning No Moon phase (6% full).

Harbor Park -- Fountain

Situated in the center of a large, open meadow is a clustering of six trees, a flower bed, a few steel-and-wood benches set firmly into concrete, and a flagstone courtyard that is dominated by a large fountain.

The fountain is a wide circular pool of water some fifty feet across and about five feet deep in most places. The sculpture in the center is a mix of old and new, traditional and modern: eight concrete-and-stainless-steel slabs about six feet high are set in a rough Stonehenge-like circle around the center of the fountain. Water flows from their tops, cascading in bright mesmerizing sheets to the pool below. Rising above the steel circle is a large marble statue of the Water Bearer, an androgynous figure draped in robes of flowing water. It bears a large jug carved with various Greek symbols, from which pours a seething torrent of water into the pool at its feet.

Cars on the nearby street have an excellent view of the park as do any residents of the tall buildings which line the waterfront.

The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street and the city of St. Claire. Recent construction work is creating an earthen berm several feet high all along the borders of the park in all directions.

Jacob is sitting cross-legged on the edge of the fountain, finger steepled, eyes closed just listening to the water. He's wearing jeans, a plain green t-shirt and a set of knee-high black moccasins.

Salem passes through the park, angling toward the river and looking somewhat lost in thought. His hands are buried in the pockets of his long black coat.

Jacob hears birds stop singing along a path behind him. Opening his eyes, he turns to look towards the trees, eyes widening. He quickly scurries off the ledge of the fountain and grabs his backpack, not really sure what to do at this point. He pulls his hair back and quickly bands it into a ponytail that reaches below his shoulderblades, cautiously watching Salem.

Salem catches the sudden movement out of the corner of his eye and turns toward it, frowning. The frown fades after only a moment, though, as he takes in the boy's face and recognizes it. He changes his path and heads for the fountain.

Uh oh. Probably not all that good. Jake stands still while Salem changes into an intercept course. No use running now.

"Well," says the tall man, once he's within earshot. "Jacob Taylor. Long time no see." There's a hint of guarded suspicion in his voice, and the frown is back.

Jacob nods and looks down at the ground. "Yessir. I know, sir. I didn't have a chance to tell anyone before I disappeared. My folks caught me one night and I couldn't go all furry batshit on them so I went along with them and they sent me to my Grandpa B's house in Wyoming so he could 'de-homo' me, but he didn't care about that and he could somehow sense that I'd gone through my First Change and he introduced me to his pack and did some minor training stuff." He stops for breath and looks up at Salem slowly. "I'm really sorry, sir. Grandpa sent me back, and doesn't want my folks to know I'm back, which is why I look different, kinda."

Salem blinks a moment at this stream of words, then shakes his head. The tension eases back, but he's still less than perfectly happy. "He should have let you contact us. But nevermind." He summons up a thin, humorless smile for the boy. "Good to have you back. Got a place to stay?"

Jacob says "I just got back yesterday, sir, and all of my stuff is still at Rhiannon's. I crashed on the couch there last night, but I haven't seen her yet to make sure it's okay to stay there." His eyebrows come together. "Why, is there a better place for me?"

Salem shakes his head. "Rhiannon's will do fine. I'm sure she won't have a problem with it... and you'll have a chance to get to know Quentin as well." His lips thin. "A lot's happened since you vanished."

Jacob frowns a bit. "What have I missed, sir? I'm assuming it's pretty dire, by the look on your face."

Salem casts a glance over the park, but there's nobody within earshot; the area's clear. He takes a seat on the edge of the fountain and speaks in a low, conversational undertone. "Do you remember John Smith? Taller than me, more scars?"

Jacob nods. "He was there when Frankie shot me."

"He's dead." Salem's mismatched eyes study the boy's face, his expression deadpan. "Francisco's been missing, too, since around the time you went AWOL."

Jacob blinks. Jacob blinkblinks. "Dead? And Frankie's -missing-?! What the hell??"

"Dead," Salem confirms. "Gutted by a Spiral Dancer. Francisco simply vanished. Possibly into the Umbra. Possibly, he's dead." Cheerful news to greet the prodigal cub.

Jacob sits down on the fountain, eyes wide, not knowing what to say. "But..." Hm. "But wasn't John in charge? And who's been doing what Francie did?"

Salem reaches into his coat and withdraws a handrolled cigarette from a slim black case. "I'm in charge now. As for the trees, if that's what you mean by 'what Frankie did', I assume that the rangers are taking care of them."

Jacob shakes his head. "No, I mean finding new cubs, like he did with me." And then that other thing sinks in. "You're in charge? Am I supposed to treat you any differently, sir? I don't think Grandpa said anything about that."

Salem arches an eyebrow. "I'm your elder whether I'm in charge of the family or not. And finding cubs is something that we all do, not just Francisco." He sets the cigarette between his lips and lights it efficiently. "We've got a couple more since you left. How much did your grandfather teach you?"

Jacob thinks about the best way to put that. "Well, basically, he made me get really comfortable with my other four forms." He gets a dreamy look in his eyes. "Do you know what it's like to spend weeks as a wolf, Salem-rhya? It's the most amazing feeling." He shakes himself back into the here-and-now. "He also showed me what a pack is supposed to feel like. How a -family- is supposed to be. His entire pack, though, knew that I was just temporary, and I have email addresses for most of them, so that I can stay in touch." He smiles. "Can't hurt to have contacts, y'know."

Salem smiles thinly, but it doesn't touch his eyes. "I've had that experience. And no, it doesn't hurt at all to have contacts. Did you get any other training? Fighting, spirit-realm, that sort of thing?"

Jacob shakes his head. "No, Grandpa said that it'd be best to get that from my home pack. Or at least the other Garou around here."

Salem grunts. "I'll get you in touch with Daisy, our resident seer. She's lupus, so you might find her odd, but she knows her job. Fighting, I can teach you, but there's a kinswoman named Elisabeth who's willing to teach kickboxing. I'll give you her number so you can look her up." He takes a deep inhale from the cigarette and blows out gray smoke. "The tribe's thin, so much of your study will have to be self-directed. The more self-motivation you show, the faster you'll get to your Rite of Passage. Understood?" He turns a dark eye on the cub.

Jacob nods. "Yessir. Before I left, Frankie suggested I talk to Tobin. I know he's not a Walker, but he -is- a Theurge, and that would help me greatly, wouldn't it? Would you have any objections with him teaching me?"

Salem shakes his head, taking another drag on the cigarette. "None whatsoever. Tobin's, mm, eccentric, but he'd be a good teacher. As would Andrea, the Sept's leader. You can contact them both over at the farmhouse." He squints. "Did Francisco show you where that was?"

Jacob shakes his head. "No, I've not ever been there."

Salem grunts again. "He showed you the caern, though, didn't he?"

Jacob swallows and looks down again, shaking his head.

Salem's mouth thins. "Did your grandfather's pack show you their caern?"

Jacob shakes his head again. "Not that I know of."

Salem flicks ash onto the ground. "Past time, then. Come on." He starts heading for the street, not looking back, as though there could be no question but that Jacob will follow him.

Jacob slings his backpack over his shoulder and follows along.

Salem leads Jacob out to where his car -- a surprisingly ugly, rust-orange Yugo -- is parked. The drive out to the farmhouse is a long one; Salem parks the car over by the gravel lane, then leads the cub and instructs him to take wolf form for the run out to the caern. He himself shifts almost immediately after and takes off at a hard pace.

On the South Rim

A stream winds crookedly out of the dense, surrounding forest. It meanders, making its way blindly and plummets off the sheer wall of the cliff, here where the forest suddenly stops. The valley that cuts the land here is roughly forty meters across, though it varies in places to as narrow as thirty. The view across the crevice is impressive, though the view into the crevice itself is obscured by mists below. The rush of water hitting stone is a constant song, although its counterpart, the waterfall itself, can't easily be viewed from here on the rim. Only a small foothold betrays the trail leading down.

The forest surrounds this spot on all sides away from the crevice. Off to one side, a small, narrow trail leads down into the crevice and the mists.

Salem pauses just before entering the caern and turns to look at the cub with one wolf-gold eye. Do you remember the laws? The last one in particular?

Skywalker whuffs. Yessir.

Salem flicks an ear in acknowledgement. This is an important place. A ~holy~ place. Enter it as you would a ~church,~ with respect. With that, he turns and pads fourfooted down into the caern.

As you take the trail down, the mist clears after a brief brisk walk, and you end up on the floor of the canyon, next to a waterfall.

By the Waterfall

The rugged walls of the canyon, spraypainted everywhere with lewd and vulgar phrases and images, grow narrower to the northeast, forcing the gusts of winds that it catches to rush down into this small clearing. Here the breezes meet with the drifting mists off the waterfall's spray, becoming swirling bits of haze that dance and whirl like merry ghosts. Occasionally, the canyon's rim pushes swifter air into the caern, breaking up the dance and sending the mists, scattered, back to their source.

Swirling in the area is some of the mist sprayed up by the waterfall to the south. To the west, a rock slab juts out of the ground at an angle. the caern's center is to the southwest; the rest of the valley extends northeast, toward the mountains.

The old growth forest surrounding the caern has been hewn down out to 150', leaving only stumps as tombstones for the mighty trees that once sheltered the caern. The ground has been salted and otherwise rendered poisonous to anything that might otherwise grow.

To the west, cool mist kicked up by the falls mingles with warmer steam from geothermal sources; these mists swirl around the caern to the north. The caern's center lies northwest of here. You can pick out what seems to be a hazardous trail over rock and up the wall, to the side of the waterfall.

Salem, in lupus, leads Skywalker down into the valley. He shakes himself as the waterfall's mist sprays his fur, then turns back to regard the younger Glass Walker.

Skywalker turns blue-gray eyes to his Leader, feeling the tension around him.

Salem chuffs, then leads the cub further into the caern, to its center.

You head into the center and heart of the caern.

Center of the Caern

This area of the clearing is about 30 meters wide and is a mixture of dark soil and clay throughout. The ground is mostly mud, but patches of grass, halted by winter's cold, are beginning to peek through the ground and take root. Near the center of the clearing, a small cairn has been built with white stone and quartz--what was left of the beautiful boulder that was once there. None of the stones is bigger than a softball.

Around you, twenty yards in every direction, stretches the caern. To the southeast, a waterfall plummets over the edge of the chasm into a small pool in the caern; nearby, to the southwest, steam comes from cracks in the ground, perhaps some of the same water. Northwest, a rocky spar juts out of the ground at a low angle, showing a sloping but smooth top. The chasm walls narrow a bit to the northeast, causing some of the mist to swirl in that area.

Bitter Cup splays her ears out. It will at least let her know how her equals think of her, she comments. She seeks to challenge still.

Salem's ears prick as he and Skywalker draw nearer. Who seeks to challenge?

"Alicia," Aubrey replies for Salem. Then she looks over to the Glass Walker cub, giving a light tilt to her head in greeting. She seems to be the only one in her birth-skin and braving the weather.

Calls-Spirits gets to his feet when Salem and his cub approach. Though it's obvious he doesn't quite recognize Skywalker, he chuffs polite greetings at them both. Your packmate, Guards-Flame, seeks to challenge, apparently. And she has also come to me asking to learn the Speech of spirits.

Skywalker hangs back behind Salem, not sure what's going on, but not entirely shying away from it, so long as he's not directly involved.

I do not think she has asked another yet, the Gaian elder comments. But I am fairly certain she still has that desire. Bitter Cup then chuffs greetings to the two urrah, looking on Skywalker with mild curosity.

Salem's eyes narrow faintly. Then he snorts and glances back at Skywalker. Introduce yourself, he instructs the cub.

Skywalker. I'm Skywalker. The darkish colored cub wuffs softly, young and not entirely sure of himself.

Salem sits down, still watching the cub. Your tribe and auspice, too, he prompts, not completely unkindly.

Aubrey tilts her head a little. "Don't need to be afraid of us," she says with a warm smile. "Nice to meet'cha."

Skywalker drops his head, embarrassed. Glass Walker theurge.

Calls-Spirits looks warmly amused at the cub's shyness. I am called Calls-Spirits, Rite-named Calls-the-Spirits-to-Battle, crescent moon of the Silver Fangs.

Salem glances at Skywalker and notes that Calls-Spirits is the crescent moon that Skyscraper Stands-His-Ground mentioned to you.

Aubrey smiles and goes about introducing herself to the Glass Walker cub. "I am Aubrey Bennett, ~Golden-Eyes~ and Rited ~Spirit's Touch~, crecent moon of the Fianna."

Stalks-Silence makes her way down from the forest at a rather brisk pace, almost trotting as she enters the Caern proper. She comes to an almost complete halt as she spies people here, though approaches cautiously, recognising only two of the group; Bitter Cup, having seen her in Lupus before, and Aubrey. It is towards the former she heads, chuffing a soft greeting, and query as to whether it's okay for her to be here.

Salem cocks an eye over at Stalks-Silence, then chuffs at her in curt greeting. Cat still keeps the gift you gave him.

Stalks-Silence

Before you is a sleek wolf of mottled colouring; chocolate brown mingling in parts with dark greys and paler auburns to give a slightly mismatched appearance, overlaid by speckles of white so randomly distributed that it looks as if the wolf may well have been caught by a sprinkling of white paint. As for build, there is little doubt that this wolf is built for hunting; dispite the thick pelt of fur a strong, whiplike musculature is evident on the otherwise slim frame, giving the creature's motions a clean and graceful slant.

Keen gold eyes peer out of this mess of fur and muscle, eyes that seem somewhat more intelligent than those of the average lupine, catching and tracking the slightest of motions.

Skywalker nods in turn to everyone, then turns to Calls-Spirits. Could we converse sometime about training?

Bitter Cup takes advantage in a pause in the conversation to offer her introduction to the cub. I am Drinks-Deeply-of-the-Bitter-Cup, alpha female of the Children of Gaia, cresent moon, and alpha of the Hidden Walk. I run with pack Circle Snake, under Uktena.

Stalks-Silence's ears perk up at the ex-Slord's comment, the cub piecing together the comment along with Salem's scar, her muzzle dipping briefly in a show of respect. The stuffed toy? she prompts, seeming happy. Good. Is he well? Her tail wags behind her, fit to come off.

Aubrey sees the young Children of Gaian cub and waves to her. "Hey there," the Fianna smiles.

Calls-Spirits sits back on his haunches and chuffs amiably at Skywalker. Of course we can, I would be happy to teach you what I know. There are several cubs who need the teaching.

Bitter Cup reaches out to nuzzle Stalks-Silence warmly, as the cub settles near her.

He is well, the Glass Walker Elder tells Stalks-Silence. He gives Skywalker and Calls-Spirits a glance, then huffs approval.

Stalks-Silence rumbles quietly, parking hersemf somewhere between the Alpha and Audrey, returning the light nosing to her Elder, before leaning over towards the Fianna and - should one be in reach - nosing at one of her hands hopefully. Hi!

Aubrey gives Stalks-Silence a light ruffle behind the ears. "Looks like I am the odd one in the group tonight," she says with amusement.

Calls-Spirits turns and hops up at Aubrey again, getting more pawprints on her jacket. Join us! Come on, be fuzzy! He also chuffs a greeting at Stalks-Silence. It's me, Calls-Spirits.

Salem stands up and gives himself a brisk shake before lying down, sphinxlike, near Skywalker. The halfmoon is as relaxed as he's likely to get, though his manner retains a stiff, reserved dignity that's more feline than canine.

Bitter Cup's ears splay in mild amusement. I find the wet easier to tolerate in this form.

Stalks-Silence cocks her head at the Fang Cliath, allowing herself to enjoy Aubrey's ruffling a moment more before padding over to nose Calls-Spirits in greeting. Did not recognise you, she agrees openly. So different from two legs.

Aubrey gives a look at her jacket as it collects more muddy pawprints. Then she looks over to Bitter Cup with an agreeing nod suddenly. "That does it Tobin, you've collected enough of your muddy paws all over my clean jacket." she says. With that said, the Fianna shifts to lupus and springs on her packmate, intervining in the conversaton between the Coggie cub and her Fang packmate.

Calls-Spirits is in the middle of being amused at Stalks-Silence when Aubrey pounces. He yelps in surprise and goes down, getting mud all over his nice white fur. He doesn't waste time getting into the tussle though, as he immediately starts wriggling away from Aubrey, snarking playfully at her.

Salem quirks an ear, eyeing the two Theurges' antics with dry amusement.

Stalks-Silence barks in cheerful encouragement of the playfighting, prancing and almost bouncing around Calls-Spirits and Golden-Eyes energeticly.

Skywalker sits down, still alert, watching all the goings-on around him, still not quite sure what to make of it. His ears flick now and again.

Bitter Cup seems removed from the antics, though her posture again takes on an amused element.

By the waterfall, something scrambles out of the Umbra and collapses into the pond at the base of the waterfall with a great splash.

Golden-Eyes chuffs back at Calls-Spirits, pinning him down with not as much force as she could. Her ears flicker as his white fur gets all full of wet earth.

Salem sits up quickly, then stands, his attention turning toward the waterfall, his ears snapping sharply forward.

Calls-Spirits lays his head flat against the ground to look at the pool upside down when he hears the splash. He chuffs at Aubrey to let him up and starts scrambling to his feet.

Stalks-Silence likewise perks towards the pool, taking a step or two towards it, though then coming to a halt, tail half-raised, ears perked up.

Bitter Cup yawns, her pink tongue curling. We should speak soon, she mentions toward Salem. We still have an enemy within the city.

Golden-Eyes lets Calls-Spirits up as soon as she hears the sound from the waterfall. A small bluish-light halos just over her head for a moment before it begins to drift towards the direction of the waterfall. The light is about the size of a firefly, although it is blue instead of the bright yellow.

By the waterfall, there is a great deal more splashing, the kind of frantic activity that might result from someone not realizing they've just jumped into a pond.

Salem, distracted by the commotion over by the waterfall, glances over toward Bitter Cup and indicates agreement. Yes. It must be finished, and soon.

Skywalker blinkblinks. He looks at Salem, then back, watching the little light.

Calls-Spirits gets to his feet and takes a few cautious steps towards the waterfall and the pond, giving a soft aroo, wondering who's there.

Bitter Cup's eyes return to the activity as well. Perhaps in the next few nights, we can speak. Do you wish to return here, or shall I seek you at your den?

Golden-Eyes follows behind Calls-Spirits, at his shoulder. Her ears are perked keenlu forward as she approaches the waterfall with her packmate.

By the waterfall, Skyscraper's frantic paddling manages to catch the bank of the pond and he scrambles, digging chunks of mud and vegetation out of the bank as he throws himself to shore. There he lays on his side, panting very swiftly and shallowly, tongue hanging out, eyes staring.

Calls-Spirits stares at the wolf who scrambled out of the pond for several seconds before he recognizes him. He takes another few cautious steps forward, sniffing carefully. Skyscraper?

Salem tells the Sept's Alpha that he will come here, to the caern itself or to the ~farmhouse,~ or he can seek her at Circle-Snake's territory, if she prefers. Then he glances toward the waterfall again and goes stiff, ears snapped forward, nose working.

Skywalker stands up completely, ears forward, eyes wide. Sky-- He looks back at Salem, obviously agitated. His head darts back and forth, feet dancing slightly. Skyscraper?

Golden-Eyes flattens her ears against her dappled skull. The Fianna Theurge tilts her head to the side, looking at her packmate with a puzzled expression. Is it?

Calls-Spirits stands with his ears pricked forward, shocked. It's him. For real. There is no taint of the Enemy on him that I can smell.

Bitter Cup's ears turn toward the newcomer, after she chuffs soft assent to Salem.

Stalks-Silence makes for the Caern edge, towards the steam vents, soon vanishing into the swirling mists.

By the waterfall, Skyscraper lets out a low moaning howl, barely lifting his head from the muddy ground to do so. Garou. Help. Help.

Salem's astonishment -- which is both considerable and, in the emotion-transparent shape of the wolf, clearly visible -- keeps him frozen for a beat or two. Then he surges forward, reverting to human form as he heads for the waterfall. He utters a soft exclamation in Serbian.

You head southeast, towards the waterfall.

By the Waterfall

The rugged walls of the canyon, spraypainted everywhere with lewd and vulgar phrases and images, grow narrower to the northeast, forcing the gusts of winds that it catches to rush down into this small clearing. Here the breezes meet with the drifting mists off the waterfall's spray, becoming swirling bits of haze that dance and whirl like merry ghosts. Occasionally, the canyon's rim pushes swifter air into the caern, breaking up the dance and sending the mists, scattered, back to their source.

Swirling in the area is some of the mist sprayed up by the waterfall to the south. To the west, a rock slab juts out of the ground at an angle. the caern's center is to the southwest; the rest of the valley extends northeast, toward the mountains.

The old growth forest surrounding the caern has been hewn down out to 150', leaving only stumps as tombstones for the mighty trees that once sheltered the caern. The ground has been salted and otherwise rendered poisonous to anything that might otherwise grow.

To the west, cool mist kicked up by the falls mingles with warmer steam from geothermal sources; these mists swirl around the caern to the north. The caern's center lies northwest of here. You can pick out what seems to be a hazardous trail over rock and up the wall, to the side of the waterfall.

Francisco

This good-sized wolf has nowhere near enough meat on him to cover his bones; his ribs and hips jut out sharply, and his legs are nothing but sinew over bone. His coat is dry and staring, and his golden eyes are nothing short of feral.

At the center, Golden-Eyes is a bit too stunned to move, she looks to moves up closer to the weakened Glass Walker but at the same times moves out of the way for the tribe elder to get through. Help?

At the center, Skywalker whines a bit, feet dancing more, eyes trained and intent on the waterfall and everything going on inside. Want help, Salem-rhya?

At the center, Calls-Spirits follows close behind Salem but stays a few paces behind, giving the confused Skyscraper some room.

At the center, Calls-Spirits heads southeast, towards the waterfall.

Calls-Spirits approaches the waterfall from the center of the caern.

At the center, Golden-Eyes heads southeast, towards the waterfall.

Golden-Eyes approaches the waterfall from the center of the caern.

Skyscraper squirms to his feet suddenly as Salem approaches, hackles spiky with mud and water rising to full extent, ears laying back and lips pulling back from teeth. It's not aggression, it's terrified defense, as evidenced by his tail, firmly between his legs. Said legs shiver with exhaustion.

Salem stops short, though not out of fear, just within lunging range. More slowly, the former Shadow Lord crouches down, one knee in the wet ground. His eyes meet the other Walkers'. "Francisco. It's Jack. I'm not going to hurt you."

At the center, Bitter Cup pushes to her paws as the stink of the other wolf's fear comes to her on the wind. She does not crowd the waterfall, but it does have her attention now.

Golden-Eyes stays back, although she seems willing to help if she can. The Fianna takes a few steps away from the Glass Walker, throughly examining around the waterfall for anything that may be out of the ordinary.

Calls-Spirits continues to hang back behind Salem, trying to look non-threatening. He whines softly, looking worried.

Slowly the snarls die down, and the Glass Walker's ears ease up, just a little. He stares up at Salem, quivering. Dark one, he calls Salem. Big fucking gun.

At the center, Skywalker dances to the edge of the pool. He yips once, ears forward, eyes full and worried.

Salem arches an eyebrow. "When we took back the caern, yes," he says, his voice calm. Now that the first shock of surprise is past, he's returned to the usual controlled, unruffled demeanor.

Calls-Spirits takes a tentative step forward coming into view. It's me, Skyscraper. Calls-Spirits.

Skyscraper's gaze flicks to the dancing cub, then at Calls-Spirits, then back to Salem. His ears rise further, his hackles smoothing down, but there's still some strong incredulity in his stance. Skywalker, and Calls-the-Spirits. Caern of the Hidden Walk. Finally? Finally? His tail waves once, hesitantly.

At the center, Skywalker whimpers, his agitation slowly disappearing. Skyscraper. You're home.

Salem's gaze rakes over Francisco, taking him in from muddy fur to jutting ribs and everything around and between. "You're home. You can relax now." He sits back on his heels and shakes his head; for the perceptive, there's a definite touch of bemusement there. "First Jacob, now you."

Golden-Eyes flickers her ears forward, finding nothing as she slowly loups back towards her packmate. Golden-Eyes, she chuffs softly, and yes... finally. She gives Skyscraper a light bump on the shoulder with her charcoal nose. Are you OK, she asks him.

Calls-Spirits chuffs affirmative at Skyscraper, looking more relaxed now and not a little relieved. Caern of the Hidden Walk, yes.

Skyscraper snaps lightning-swift at Golden-Eyes with a sudden snarl. He pulls the strike at the last second though, teeth clacking shut on air, and backs away a few steps, tail stiff. Again it's far less aggression than the startled reaction of a nervous wolf. Don't.

Salem's eyes narrow, and he waves the Fianna away. "Don't crowd him." Then he turns to Skyscraper. "Can you shift? Human form's less... instinctive."

Golden-Eyes snaps her head back. Ears grazing her skull, and her eyes grow thin for a moment as she also backs up. The Fianna sits off a ways from the Glass Walkers, watching quietly.

Calls-Spirits jumps back when Skyscraper snaps at Aubrey. He takes the few steps to his packmate and nudges her shoulder. We should leave him until he is himself again. Let his packmate help him. I am going to head back to our territory. I can be found near the Grotto if you need me.

At the center, Bitter Cup, satisfied there will be no trouble, disappears so quietly into the umbra that it's unlikely the other Garou even notice the moment she disappears.

At the center, Skywalker watches his leader and his mentor, unsure whether to help or not, eyes less frantic, fur laying back down.

Skyscraper licks his nose, ears swivelling back up, then around. He can't remember how to walk on two legs. Can't remember. Can't remember anything. Swims-Through-Silver-rhya, the dream, then... nothing. He looks up at Salem, his tail doing uncertain things. Walks-Thin-Ice, gone. Skyscraper felt him die, felt the link die. He remembers that.

Salem grimaces. "Yes, he's dead. Late last year." He glances back and beckons Skywalker forward, then says to Francisco, "Try. To shift. It's your birth form... your body will remember."

This idea plainly makes Skyscraper even more nervous. Might have to fight. Might have to run. Then, wolflike, he promptly forgets that the subject was brought up. Instead, he pads a little closer to the other two, and stretches out his neck to sniff cautiously at Skywalker.

At the center, Skywalker stretches his nose out to Skyscraper. Try, Skyscraper. Do as the Leader says. Change back to homid.

Salem says nothing more, only watches the other Philodox with narrowed eyes.

Skyscraper gives Skywalker a thorough snuffle, then snorts in satisfaction. Cub, he says, plainly pleased. He sits down and looks at his two tribemates. He will try to shift. Standing back up, he swells effortlessly into hispo, then the full war-form, still far too thin for his giant frame. He pauses here, panting uncertainly.

At the center, Skywalker shifts alongside Skyscraper, into crinos. ~Good, Skyscraper. Halfway, Teacher. Heck, if I can do it, so can you.~

At the center, Skywalker contorts and blurs as he is transformed.

At the center, Skywalker shifts into Crinos form.

Salem's gaze remains steady on Francisco. "Go on," he urges, when the other halfmoon pauses. His tone is patient, as though speaking to an uncertain cub.

Skyscraper pants faster, his breath shallow, giant claws gouging the ground. Then he collapses into homid in one step and sprawls on the ground, shaking. He's pitifully skinny, clad in jeans and shirt that are both ripped to hell, barefoot, and every one of his piercings are gone, the holes healed over as if they'd never been. His hair is a shoulder-length unruly tangle, the tips still bright blue. He lays, still panting, the line of his spine and his shoulderblades poking out clearly through his shirt.

Salem stares at Francisco with an expression of mingled pity, concern, and quiet satisfaction. "You look like shit, Mr. Delgado," he says, with dry humor. "But it's good to have you back."

At the center, Skywalker contorts and blurs as he is transformed.

At the center, Skywalker shifts into Homid form.

At the center, Jacob looks distinctly worried in a way his other forms just can't show. "Fracisco-rhya..." He gets all choked up and can't talk, but holds back the tears, jaw jutting out to keep it from happening. He reaches slightly towards the two. "Do you need help out of there?"

Francisco snorts at Salem, laughter that wants to be wolven coming from a human throat. He pushes himself to all fours, sways, then puts a foot on the ground. He looks up at Jacob, and although he doesn't speak, he holds a hand out in the most human gesture he's made all night.

At the center, Jacob steps into the pool to take Francisco's arm across his shoulders. "Come on, Obi-Wan. Let's get you out of here and dried off and some food in you. Lord, you're scrawnier than ever. Come on." He looks at Salem.

Salem likewise helps the wasted Glass Walker to his feet. "Think you can make it to the farmhouse? I took a month of Guardianship this past December. They're quite well-stocked."

Francisco finds his feet under him, leaning on his tribemates. He's wobbly, but he manages to cling to the other Garou, and chuffs assent.

Salem nods and, with Jacob's assistance, starts helping Francisco out of the caern. "You're really just in time," he remarks, off-handedly. "I was planning to call a tribal moot sometime soon. The family has a lot of business to take care of."

Francisco turns his head a little to look at Salem, his dark eyes intent with agreement, as he limps along.

At the center, Jacob helps get Francisco out of the water and settles him down on the ground. "What can I do, Salem-rhya?"

Salem eyes the cub consideringly. "Why don't you stay at the farmhouse with Francisco while he recovers from his, mm, ordeal? It'll give you a chance to get to know the other members of the Sept as well." Then, to the other Philodox, he says, "I'll contact the tribe after I leave you two." He smiles faintly. "Rhiannon will be... quite happy, I suspect."

Francisco winces at the mention of Rhiannon's name, and nods with a wry grimace. He smiles a little at Jacob and brushes a hand over the cub's hair, lightly, still getting re-used to this whole hands thing.

At the center, Jacob nods. "I'll do whatever it takes to get him back to where he needs to be, sir."

Salem nods. "Good."

+Mail sent to the Tribe:

Salem passes the word along, letting people know that both Jacob and Francisco have returned to St. Claire. Francisco is weakened from his ordeal and Jacob is in good health. Both are staying at the farmhouse until Francisco recovers enough to return to the city.

My god. The man actually sounds _happy_ for once. Relatively speaking.