"If you hadn't known me, you would have been happier."

[hazlogs]

[Dec 7, 1997]

Behind the Falls
Dug by a combination of the wearing down of stone by time and erosion, and the 
  shifting of rock from the water's weight, this cave behind the falls is 
  comfortably roomy. A gentle downward slope leads back from the entrance, 
  perhaps ten or so yards; the cave is about five yards across at its widest, 
  and small juts of rock have created natural shelves and nooks in the walls. 
  Very little light pierces the dark recesses of the cave, hidden as it is by 
  the twists of stone and the flow of water, but one of the nooks along the 
  cave floor has been cleared out and, by its blackened and sooty appearance, 
  used as a fire pit.
Obvious exits:
Grotto  

Erik is seated by the fire. The blanket is draped over his shoulders and 
  wrapped around him, but this seems less for hiding and more for simply 
  keeping warm. His head is slightly bowed, his eyes closed as he sings 
  quietly in Latin, the music slow and soothing.

Brightspot pauses before fully entering the cave. Her head is held high as she 
  tries to keep from getting hit in the chest by the sneakers still swinging 
  from the bundle of material she's carrying in her jaws. Unable to chuff, she 
  blows out softly through her nose. Though her ears are lowered, she's not 
  cringing.

Erik halts in mid-note and opens his eyes to look at the lupine shape near the 
  exit. He bites down on his lower lip and then looks back at the flames.

Brightspot starts towards the metis, her steps slowing the nearer she gets. 
  She stops before drawing even and leans forward to place the items next to 
  him. ~Bigger pants, matching socks, maybe better shoes,~ she explains 
  quietly.

Erik hesitates, then rests his hand on the small pile. Though he doesn't seem 
  as emotionally mauled as he was yesterday, the Metis is still very subdued. 
  He shifts his eyes to her, sidelong, and asks, "Has any mention been made of 
  your Rite of Passage?"

Brightspot remains standing, appearing unsure of her welcome. Now. Well, 
  Ravenfeeder said it should be before too long, and Moon Otter-rhya asked me 
  if I thought I was ready, and what I needed to learn still.

Erik nods slightly. He doesn't seem angry at the cub, far from it; the 
  distance he's forced between them is a fragile thing. If anything, he seems 
  worried and tired. Softly, he says, "Tell me why you think the tribe hates 
  me."

Brightspot lowers herself down next to him, maybe not close enough to be 
  touching, but a shift from either of them would cause the longer guard hairs 
  of her coat to brush his leg. Heart-of-Fury is always saying bad things 
  about you, and he tries to hurt you.

"Heart-of-Fury is one Garou," Erik reminds her. "Not the whole tribe."

Brightspot shifts uncomfortably. They don't stop him.

Erik turns his head to regard the fire and then glances back at the cub. "They 
  did last night."

One of the cub's ears move forward, then back in a 'Huh?' sorta movement. She 
  blinks. They did?

Erik pulls his knees up to his chest, folding his good arm over the truncated 
  one and resting his head on them. He switches tactics. "Kasie, do you 
  remember the day at the..." He pauses a moment, grasping for a word at the 
  tip of his tongue. After a moment's thought, he gives it up. "Steven was 
  picking on you, calling you rabbit. I told you something then. Remember?"

The cub's quick flicker of embarrassment at the name pushed aside by a more 
  satisfied look as she remembers. The time he and I fought. You told me he 
  was... She tilts her head to look up into his face. You said he was testing 
  me, the cub finishes, looking like she has an idea where he's headed.

Erik nods. His eyes shift away again, broodingly to the flames. He's silent 
  for a long moment, long enough that one might well think he'd lost track and 
  forgotten about the conversation.

Brightspot turns her eyes to the fire, too. But he's not just testing /you/. 
  Her muzzle wrinkles, but not so much that any whitness of tooth is exposed, 
  He does it all the time, he never stops.

Erik blinks, coming back from whatever mental limbo he'd gotten derailed into. 
  He turns his head to stare at her in confusion for a few moments, and then 
  closes his eyes and passes his hand across his skeletal face. "Steven hates 
  me," he sighs. "And for that, you hate him. But you also hate the rest of 
  the tribe, and..." He stops abruptly and swallows visibly, pressing his 
  forehead into the palm of his hand. More slowly now, his voice trembling at 
  the edge of his control, he says, "And I can't help but think that it's my 
  fault."

Brightspot moves her head closer to his leg, touching it lightly with her 
  muzzle to emphasize her point, Not your fault. You told me I should like 
  them, that they were good. She lets her head slip back down to the floor of 
  the cave, appearing almost tired.

Erik grows tense, hugging his knees to his chest and shivering as though from 
  a chill. "If you hadn't known me, you would have been happier."

Brightspot's growl is out almost before she can catch it. Once she does, she 
  bites the sound off but her posture is not softened for the lack of the 
  sound. No, she snaps her jaws. No. You are my best friend and if I hadn't 
  known you I wouldn't have stayed. Remember the first time I met 
  Heart-of-Fury? What if you hadn't been there?

Erik turns to look at her, his eyes searching her expression in despair. 
  "Heart of Fury is _not_ the whole tribe, Kasie..."

Without looking at him she notes, You're cold. There are coats at the house, 
  I'll get one. She stands up.

Erik sighs. Giving up, he lowers his forehead to his knees. Softly, almost to 
  himself, he murmurs, "I wanted you to succeed..."

Brightspot turns her head to look back at him before she goes. I will. /They/ 
  don't think so, but I will.

Erik doesn't respond.

Brightspot trots out. Some time later she returns with a surprisingly small 
  bundle in her mouth. She slows as she returns to his side.

Erik doesn't seem to have moved much in the interval, though he looks up as 
  she returns from yet another trek to and from and farmhouse.

The package comes apart as she drops it. The cub runs her tongue over her 
  muzzle, making a face at the fuzz left by the sweater. There's more, she 
  says as she shifts up.

Erik blinks, his eyes shifting from the bundle to the cub and back again.

Kasie stays in homid only long enough to remove her backpack and open the 
  bloated looking thing. She pulls out a ski coat sorta jacket and her pack 
  returns to a more normal shape. She hands it to him with a shy smile, 
  shoulders the pack again, and shifts down.

Erik surveys the gathered collection of scrounged clothes and shakes his head. 
  His resistance, however, is starting to crumble; the cub is far more 
  stubborn than her teacher.

Brightspot flops down, looking muchly satisfied with herself.

Erik, resigned, picks up the sweater and pulls it over his head, awkwardly 
  with one hand.