1/30/04
Forest North of I-90(#2354RA)
The forest is thinner here than it is south of the highway, though it is still
difficult to see for far. Signs of human habitation break the stretch of
woods every few miles; roads, paths, farms, and the occasional
out-of-the-way home remind you that civilization is encroaching, though
in this area, the battle is not yet decided. Hardwoods mix with towering
firs and smaller trees, still concealing some of nature's hidden places
from the nearby humans.
The forest spreads north from Interstate 90, which delineates the souther edge
of this area. Marked by logging areas, farms, and other signs of human
presence in places, the woods are still relatively unoccupied by humans.
You paged Signe, Alicia, Jacinta, and Emma with 'A stranger's howl rises up
from the woods just north of the Bawn, with a message: White Bison, of
Elder Brother's tribe, seeks one of Little Brother, or another of the
Sept of the Hidden Walk, which was once Little Brother's land.'.
Winter's Child
This not-quite fully adult wolf bitch is a starved, unhealthy-looking beast,
too tall for her scant flesh. Her dry, unkempt pelt, light gray,
stretches tight over bone and muscle and sinew, showing clearly the jut
of ribs and spine and hip. Large paws, each toe tipped with a blunt,
yellowish claw, suggest that Winter's Child has yet more growing to do.
Within her long muzzle are needle-sharp fangs that have an unhealthy yellowish
hue, and from deep sockets within her lean wolven head burn pale blue
eyes, cold as the frost.
Guards-Flame pages to Signe, Jacinta, Winter's Child, and Emma: Another howl
rises up from the woods in greeting: Welcome White Bison. I am
Guards-The-Flame of the Mother's Children. I will meet with you.
Two wolves greet the sight of those who come in answer to the howl. One is old,
a smallish bitch with a dark gray pelt that's mingled with red and black;
her muzzle's grizzled with the white of age, but her golden eyes are
clear, and she carries herself with the confidence of rank and experience.
The other is taller but bonily thin, a starved-looking not-quite adult bitch
with pale gray fur and frostily pale blue eyes. This one, ribs and spine
jutting visibly, is seated next to the standing elder, and her manner's
sullen and submissive, ears laid back and tail tucked close.
The pitch black wolf travels slowly through the snow, loping over a small dune
or two as her brown eyes fall upon the forms of the two wolves up ahead.
Ears streaked white lifts upwards curiously towards them as she keeps her
head and tail up high. Welcome to the Sept of the Hidden Walk. Brings the
Buffalo home is within his territory right now, and not on the Bawn. How
may I seek to aid you? She questions, sniffing at the pair some.
From afar, to the room, Guards-Flame taps Sense Wyrm.
You paged the room with 'Ain't no Wyrm 'round here.'.
Sheeaghan strays on the far edge of the bawn, wondering what sort of company as
gathered there. The wards have not been envoked but the pale wold heard
mentioning of a few members of the sept gathered here. Her ears are
splayed forward on her skull. Greetings, she chuffs softly as she
approaches.
Defiant-Storm arrives late, from the south. The smaller wolf traveling at her
side is told to stay back, but she herself comes up to stand beside and
even a little in front of Guards-Flame. Her ears are alert and her eyes
glitter a mean yellow as she regards the two strangers, especially the
sickly one.
The bony youngster shies away from the inspection, flattening herself against
the ground and edging closer to the elder, who studies the arriving Garou
with a calm, unintimidated gaze.
I am White Bison, crescent-moon of Elder Brother, the old bitch tells
Guards-Flame. She indicates her companion. This is Winter's Child,
gibbous-moon cub of Little Brother. I have brought her to be trained here.
Sheeaghan looks to the elder and nods her head. The Wedigo you are looking for
is located in the foothills of the mountains, she explains, I hear rumor
that he has a kin there that would greet you if he is not there. She
huffs out a breath, which creates a plume of moisture into the air. There
is another Wendigo cub there as well, Darkfeather.
Guards-Flame glances over towards Defiant-Storm as she steps ahead of her, then
settles herself back upon her haunches, becoming a full head away. Her
ears flicker slightly and she nods towards the Pure One pair. She remains
silent.
In this form, she looks very young and lean. Her ribs slant out from her sides.
Pitch black fur run along her body, with a few whisps of black at the
ears and chest. Her tail is slender, almost always whipping back and
forth in excitement. She's muscular in the legs, but not nearly as
powerful as she could be. Her eyes are like goldeny amber, bright and
filled with intelligence.
Fire-Dancer waits back as she was told, though her ears are pressed forward
intently. Her nose works over the new scents as well, taking them in, and
watching the proceedings.
Defiant-Storm breaks off her inspection of the submissive sick one to glance
back at Sheeaghan. The Get's ears splay a little in puzzlement before
turning back to the Uktena elder. She meets the others gaze, at least for
now, and bares her teeth very briefly. Why leave it here? She asks,
dubious posture unmistakable.
There's something odd about the scent of the tall, skinny Wendigo cub, though
it's difficult to pin down. It seems normal enough, but...
White Bison turns her gaze to stare at Defiant-Storm, her head lifted. Though
smaller than the Fostern Get, there's an unmistakable aura of authority
about the old Uktena; her tail lifts in dominance. The roots of Little
Brother are here, and she is Little Brother's blood. Her mother is dead.
There is no other place for her.
You paged the room with 'White Bison's an Old One, or near, and gives off those
wow-i'm-high-rank vibes, if it isn't obvious. :}'.
Sheeaghan looks from the elder Uktena to Defiant-Storm. Perhaps this is
something that Brings Buffalo Home needs to make judgement on, this is
his blood. The pale wolf's ears lower slightly while glancing towards the
elder Fenrir.
Guards-Flame tilts her head slightly to one side and softly chuffs. She flicks
her ears a bit, worriedly. She glances over towards the child and offers
a light greeting, one of hope. Her tail wags a bit from side to side,
before glancing back towards the older one, dipping her head a bit in
submission. She glances sideways to Defiant-Storm.
Fire-Dancer stares at the cub, wondering why she is so skinny and sickly
looking. Even the Walker cub is more fulled out than that one.
It takes little more than a few moments before Defiant-Storm's tail lowers, as
do her eyes. She licks her muzzle, assuming the naturally submissive
posture under White Bison's gaze. The larger wolf steps aside, gesturing
towards Guard-Flame. She knows the way to the place where her kind live.
She can take you. Then, Defiant Storm looks to Guards-Flame as if asking
if she would be willing to do this.
White Bison turns away from the Get and focusses back on Guards-Flame. The cub
at her side looks at all of them warily, her ears still laid back.
Guards-Flame flicks her ears forward. I will, of course. She rumbles to the
pair. I am just afraid that Brings Buffalo Home will not welcome her with
open arms, for his opinion of Metis is not very high. She cants her head
a bit, asking the Elder. Is her welfare a concern of yours? If he wishes
to cull her, I may not be able to hold back my own claws.
Fire-Dancer's ears twitch and flicker at this, shocked to find out the sickly
one is metis. Seeing the funny tail of the metis toddler is one thing,
but this wolf looks more normal, if not just really skinny. Her eyes fall
to the Get she came with, watching for her reaction.
White Bison seems unsurprised, but also unworried. He will accept her, or he
will not. There will be no culling while I am near.
Sheeaghan does not mention another word, but the pale wolf takes a few steps
backward and sits down on her flank. Her golden-eyes remain on the elder
Uktena as she listens.
Guards-Flame lowers her head in respect to the Old-One, ears falling back to
her skull. Thank you White Bison Rhya. Mules may not be accepted by most
tribes, but my heart burns for life. If he doesn't accept her, I will
take her in, raise her to be strong, and proud of her blood.
Defiant-Storm's hackles are up, but she keeps her eyes well below those of the
Uktena. She snorts at the goings on, and then turns away from the scene.
In fact, the quicker she gets away from the Uktena the better, though for
her own pride and vigilance, she manages to walk instead of trot. Nosing
Fire Dancer, she moves back south.
The old Uktena quirks an ear at Guards-Flame's eagerness and accepts the spirit
from which it's given with polite amusement. I did not catch your tribe,
youngster.
Fire-Dancer stands up and moves to follow, head glancing back just a moment at
the skinny metis, before she is just a half pace behind her elder.
Winter's Child sneaks a glance at the departing pair of Get, then looks
sidelong and upwards at White Bison.
Guards-Flame rumbles softly, fur fluffing up a bit. I am the Voice of the
Goddess for the Children of Gaia within this Sept. I am born a Moon
Dancer, Fostern for my people.
White Bison's posture indicates understanding. The generosity of the Children
of Gaia is known. You do your ancestors proud. Will you take us to the
place of Little Brother?
Guards-Flame looks humbled by the Elder's words and offers a chuff of thanks.
Your words make my heart all the more lighter. I will take you.
With that, the old Uktena Theurge turns aside and nudges Winter's Child. The
cub gets to her feet with visible reluctance and, though obedient,
continues to regard the strangers with sullen suspicion and the elder at
her side with no little unhappiness.
Sheeaghan returns to her Guardianship duties and heads somwhere remotely south
but not in the same direction as the two Get of Fenris.
Guards-Flame chuffs a farewell to Sheeaghan, giving her a light nuzzle on her
way past. Chin up sister.
[...]
Two Eagles Bluff(#3332RJ)
To the northeast, the foothills climb upwards into the steep, snow-capped crags
and mountains. Here, the tall summer grasses bend in sporadic waves as
the wind dances on the bluff. The evergreens and aspens give way to an
open field that lends itself to a panoramic and picturesque view to the
south and east. A small stream wends its way unobtrusively through the
eastern edge of the mountain's crags, the scent and sound of trickling
water clear on the hesitant but almost incessant breeze. Wildflowers
litter the green of the grass, coloring them with touches of violet and
bright oranges, yellows and blues. Tucked in along the sloped wall of the
forested foothills to the northeast is a well-worn section of ground.
Desiree is standing outside of the cave, scrapping away at a twing. The bark
falls to the snow-covered ground as she works. The woman is wearing
mostly leather in layers. She is dresses against the cold, although even
this cold is almost unbareable for a woman like Desiree, who has spent
her entire life in the north.
A powerful howl echos through the territory as Guards-The-Flame leads the pair
through the snow covered ground. She lets her announcement slip through
the vocals, alerting the Natives here of the coming arrival of friendly
Garou.
White Bison stands near Guards-the-Flame, perfectly calm, the skinny cub just
as sullen and unhappy as before.
Desiree knows the sounds of friendiness, however, she is still cautious. Her
eyes narrow, watching as the three slowly approach.
Guards-Flame sniffs the air a few times around Desiree, then settles upon her
haunches, staring at the kinfolk with her golden wolf eyes. She reaches
out with a paw and pushes the snow away in a human like gesture, then
pats it, ears lifting upwards. See, Garou, not wolf.
This woman's Native American heritage is unmistakable. She is short, barely
above five feet tall. Her body is curvaceous and physically fit, showing
more musculature than extra weight. Dark, straight hair falls to her
shoulders, although it is more often pulled up from her shoulders in a
messy ponytail. Below high cheekbones rest dark coffee-brown irises. Her
eyes are almond-shaped, set between a well-define nose.
She wears several layers of warm cotton shirts, over which is a white
deerskin coat with ornately-designed tassels. Her pants are basically the
same as the jacket, reminding one of a pair of cowboy chaps. On her feet
are a sturdy pair of boots. During these wintry months she can be found
wearing a scarf and, oddly enough, a cowboy hat. In field, she also
carries a light backpack.
White Bison studies the leather-clad woman, then looks bemusedly at the Child
of Gaia. Is she kin, or no?
Guards-Flame flicks an ear. She may be the kin the Fianna spoke of. I have yet
to personally meet her.
Desiree remaind with her eyes on the three wolves. Placing her hands on her
hips, she frowns at them. Apparently they are speaking with one another
in a language she cannot comprehend.
White Bison seems less than pleased with this, but calm. We will wait for
Brings the Buffalo Home, then, or another of Little Brother, or one who
can confirm that this woman is kin, as she seems to be.
Guards-Flame sniffs the air a bit and rumbles softly. This is his home, and he
would not allow humans to be here. She trots her way towards Desiree,
ears flickering upwards, offering a chuff. She makes her way straight to
her feet, sitting down and staring upwards.
"Who are you and why do you come?" asks Desiree, looking to the three. There as
not been anyone near the cave for awhile except those she is familar
with. "I know what you are," she says. Her eyes look down at Guards-Flame
but the woman simply crosses her arms against her chest. Do you really
think Leonard would allow anyone around this cave for weeks at a time?
The two strangers, elder and youngster, remain quiet. Winter's Child's still
being sullen, and White Bison is merely calm, in no rush. Indeed, her
gaze becomes rather distant as she scents the air and looks around.
Shifting upwards to the homid form, Alicia takes a step back away from Desiree,
offering a slight grin to her. "Well, thank god you do know what we are
then, huh? You never really know. Hey, where is Leonard at?" She rambles
out swiftly, cutting her eyes around. "I'm Alicia. Child of Gaia,
Fostern, blah blah.. you must be that kin chick that Bree' was talking
'bout."
Desiree crosses her arms against her chest as she looks towards Alicia, adding
a nod in response. "I do not know anyone by the name of Bree..." she
remarks, although Leonard and/or Taslyn could have just as easily have
told them about her. "Leonard as been gone since early morning, he should
be returning sometime tonight."
The Uktena glances up and, smoothly stretches and contorts herself into human
form -- a small, thin old woman of mixed blood -- none of it white. Her
long, braided hair is white and her face is very lined, but her brown
eyes are clear and steady. Her clothing's a mixture of deerskin and jeans
and flannel, and she's well-bundled against the cold.
Winter's Child shifts to match her companion -- a tallish teenage girl, still
bonily thin and dressed far more lightly. She hunches her shoulders and
casts frost-pale eyes downwards, frowning.
At a glance, this is a gaunt Native American girl, mid-teens, a few inches over
five and a half feet tall, with thick, straight black hair that's been
cropped roughly and boyishly short, probably with a knife. Large hands
and feet suggest that she's not quite finished growing.
She's too thin to be pretty, hollow-cheeked and starved. Her teeth have an
unhealthy yellowish hue and there's a pallor to the coppery complexion.
The unkempt hair is dry and looks like it would tangle easily if it
weren't so short. Underneath thick black lashes lurk pale blue eyes, cold
as winter.
Winter's Child's bony form is clothed in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of
faded blue jeans. Her feet are bare.
"Gotcha. Well, don't worry 'bout Bree, she's tribe to Tas. You know how it
goes.. Leonard finally gets a kinfolk to stick around him for more than
ten minutes and the entire town is talking. Anyways.. right behind me is
an Elder of the Uktena. You know, like super ranked, and thats a Wendigo
cub. She's kinda dropping her off for Leonard. But.. I think maybe we can
just come back when he /is/ around, because there is just a lil bit of an
issue regarding the entire thing." Alicia says, then shrugs her shoulders
a bit. "Nice ta' meetcha by the way. You got a name or do I call you kin
chick?" She asks with a wryness about her.
"The child is Metis," says White Bison bluntly, fixing her gaze on the
kinswoman. "Her mother is dead and there is no place for her where we
come from."
Winter's Child pushes her hands into the pockets of her jeans and stares at the
ground, bare toes digging at the cold, hard ground. Though she's hardly
dressed for the season and weather, she doesn't seem uncomfortable.
"It is a three hour walk on foot to the farmhouse," Desiree explains, "Perhaps
an hour and half in wolf. You are welcome to stay or go, I will leave the
desision up to you." She nods to Alicia, "I am Desiree Skywatcher Keller,
daughter of Micah Crash-of-Thunder Keller... of the Colville tribes." Her
eyes flicker to the metis, and the woman scowls briefly. "This is not my
place to judge, you may wait for Leonard's arrival." Still, the woman
offers her hospitality. "Come in side where the fire is warm."
"Awesome. Good name you got there. Perhaps I should leave you three be. I was
only playing tour guide." Glancing over her shoulder to White Bison,
Alicia offers a smile, nodding her head. "Rhya, shall I come back for you
tonight, and lead you home, or will you be alright?"
White Bison turns a faint smile onto the Child of Gaia. "I will be fine. Do me
a favor and let your Alpha know of our arrival." Then she moves to join
Desiree by the fire.
The Metis cub follows reluctantly and doesn't come close.
Alicia nods her head and gives a bow, offering a smile. "It was a pleasure to
meet you White Bison. Perhaps we can trade a story before you leave. I'd
be more than honored to listen to your words." With that, she tilts her
head to Desiree. "Nice meeting you also. Take care. Luna guide your paths
safely wherever you trek." And with a hop to her step, she shifts back
down to the black wolf and starts galloping off through the snow.
Desiree nods her head in reply to the two, "I will let him know as soon as he
arrives." She places some wood into the fire before she stands. "Are you
hungry?" she offers them. "You're travels must have been long."
White Bison looks after the departing Gaian and lets out a sigh of mingled
exasperation and amusement. "An idealistic child, that one." She eyes
Desiree, then smiles warmly and nods. "It has, it has, and some food
would be welcome." She settles down with only a little stiffness. "I am
White Bison, Theurge of Elder Brother's tribe. The girl is called
Winter's Child."
Winter's Child looks up with interest at the mention of food, but she keeps her
distance from the fire, approaching only a step or two more before
squatting down on her heels.
"As I had introduced to the other woman, I am Desiree Skywalker. I am kin here
at the cave, I do what needs to be accomplished by a woman and let the
men at their own duties." she says, then dips her head as she moves to
the tunnels in back of the cavern. She returns with a few bowls filled
with what looks to be some type of trail mix and fresh snow-melt water.
Her eyes flicker occasionally to the metis, having never really having
the opputinity of seeing one before, although her grandfather would often
talk about them and that they were a disappointment to most Garou.
Desiree remains quiet about the metis, unaware of what Leonard will
decide when he returns. She sets the food and drink in front of both of
them and sits down to return to her sewing. It appears that she is making
clothing.
The old Uktena smiles warmly at Desiree. "Sweet girl. Are you mated to anyone
yet?" She begins to eat what's been offered to her while waiting for an
answer.
Winter's Child ducks her head, mumbling an accented 'thank you' as Desiree
gives her the bowl, and tucks in immediately, as though she hadn't eaten
for days.
Desiree chuckles and shakes her head. "No," she replies. She pulls the needle
through the leather slowly, making her stitches exact.
White Bison studies Desiree critically -- checking out those birthing hips,
perhaps. "Tell me of the Pure Ones here. Are there many?"
Surprisingly, Desiree does have a gracious figure. "The only one that I have
met is Leonard, and he has a cub that he has been teaching. His name is
Darkfeather, but I have been unable to speak with him. There is also a
new woman that I have not met and a Uktena that lives in the city that
Leonard as talked at some length about." she answers.
Winter's Child is already finished with her portion and licks the inside of the
bowl clean, getting up every little morsel.
"An Uktena in the city?" White Bison's eyebrows rise toward her hairline as she
peers at Desiree.
Desiree nods her head slowly, "Yes." Her eyebrow preforms the same gesture as
she looks back to the elder. Then, she carelessly throws back her
shoulders in a shrug-like gesture.
The Uktena hrmphs, then shrugs. Noticing the Metis cub's stare, she smiles
fondly and passes her half-empty bowl over to the hungry-looking girl.
"Tell me about Leonard," she says, as Winter's Child eagerly tucks into
the offering.
"My father would appraise him highly," Desiree replies. "My father often kills
Wyrmbringers when he has a chance, you see. I do not exactly like his
ways, but he is doing what he feels the Wendigo would appreciate." Her
eyes turn to the elder-woman. "He knows what he is, he is a good Wendigo.
Some here will say that he knows nothing of women or of his young, but I
believe they are wrong. I have only been here a short time, but I see
that there is strength of his tribe within him. He is a good teacher too."
White Bison nods slowly, her eyes half-lidding as she looks at something past
the kinswoman's shoulder. Like many an elder Theurge, she seems aware of
things no one else can see. "Good. How old is he?"
Desiree shrugs up her shoulders, having forgotten Leonard's true age.
"Sixteen... seventeen, or eighteen." she replies to the Theurge. "He is
willing to listen to me, to the stories that my grandfather had told me
when I was young." She pauses as she looks to the metis, "Perhaps I will
share them... if she is willing to stay." She makes a light gesture to
the metis. "She is still a Wendigo by blood, heritage is important."
Winter's Child, licking out the bowl that White Bison handed her, pauses to
look warily at the kinswoman, her thin shoulders hunched. Then she looks
down again, sullen and quiet.
White Bison arches her eyebrows, looking surprised. "So young? Well, well."
She, too, looks over at the metis, then back at Desiree. "The girl is a
talesinger by birth. Stories will do her good." Her eyes narrow, the calm
look containing a hint of steel. "And I do intend to see she isn't raised
by Wyrmcomers, even well-intentioned ones. But she must be raised _here_,
at this Sept, at this caern."
"Why here?" Desiree asks, looking curiously towards the elder.
White Bison extends a hand toward the squatting cub, and both bowls, licked
clean, drift up into the air and float unerringly toward the old Uktena's
hands. She offers them to the kinswoman, saying, "She is Little Brother's
blood, and this is Little Brother's land... even if he no longer rules
here."
Desiree looks to the elder and nods in understanding. "This is the hunting
ground of our ancestors," she explains. Desiree takes the bowls while
giving the pair an equal glance.
"You understand." White Bison turns to Winter's Child, then, and speaks in the
gutteral, growling tones of the Mother Tongue. ~Try not to look _so_
despairing, pup.~ To which the metis just nods and toys with bits of
stuff found on the ground nearby -- a pebble, a twig, a clod of dirt.
Desiree nods her head. "That is why I am here," she replies truthfully. "There
should be more Wendigo here, this is our land. The reservations are too
overpopulated and not as favorable as these lands."
White Bison snorts. "When _have_ the reservations been favorable?"
Desiree lightly chuckles and sits back as she looks to the elder. "You are
right," she replies, a bit of mirth in her expression. "They have never
been."
White Bison smiles ruefully, then pushes to her feet. "Is there a place we may
rest until Leonard arrives? Is has, yes, been a long journey."
Desiree points to the back, to a tunnel. "You may uses the room I sleep in, if
you wish to rest." she says.
The old Uktena smiles warmly. "Thank you, dear."
Winter's Child follows the Old One into the tunnel, giving Desiree a backward
glance; the cub doesn't seem to want to let White Bison out of her sight.
[...]
From afar, to the room, Leonard will say that Desiree came to fetch him and he
told her to stay wherever he was so he could check out these newcomers.
Having rested from their journey, the two visitors are inside the cave. White
Bison -- a tiny old woman of mixed ancestry -- most of it Native
American, none of it white -- sits crosslegged by the fire, wrinkled
hands resting on her knees, her eyes closed and her deeply lined face
turned upwards. She's singing quietly in a mixture of languages. She's
dressed in a mixture of deerskin and cotton and flannel.
Winter's Child, far more lightly dressed, squats on her heels far from the
fire, bare toes digging at the ground, longer figures toying
with whatever they happen to find there. The Metis cub watches the old
Uktena, her thin face sullen.
Leonard makes his way into the cave, stopping once he sees the girl. He frowns,
taking her in cautiously. "Yahey."
This teenage boy stands about five-ten and weighs maybe one sixty-five. Soaking
wet. He's lean and almost hungry-looking with that gangly look of one
who, while he may have finished growing, hasn't yet filled out his new
frame. This is not to say he isn't muscled; he's simply the epitome of
wiry. No older than late teens at a guess, his coppery skin, black hair
and high cheekbones fairly scream 'Indian.' His brown eyes are large,
deepset and fringed with lashes any woman would envy, but his demeanor is
as sullen as any teen's.
He wears a faded, tattered black t-shirt. Equally-faded worn blue jeans and a
pair of scuffed black boots round out his wardrobe. Around his neck is a
rawhide bag of which he seems very protective. All in all he looks pretty
scruffy, as if he lives on the street.
Winter's Child glances up quickly as Leonard arrives and edges back, thin
shoulders hunching and her back pressed against the cave wall. She drops
her too-pale eyes.
At the fire, the old woman stops singing and opens her eyes, turning a clear,
intent gaze upon the arrival. She looks the young man up and down. "Ahh.
Brings the Buffalo Home?"
Leonard frowns deeper as the girl doesn't answer, and looks towards the old
woman at the fire. "Who asks."
The old one sets her hands against her knees and then gets to her feet. "White
Bison, crescent moon of Elder Brother's tribe." Her head cocks, fixing
Leonard with intent, dark eyes. "Did the girl not tell you of us?"
Leonard watches the woman, face expressionless. "I would hear it from your own
mouth. Did she offer you food and drink?"
White Bison smiles faintly (and the starved-looking girl continues to stare at
her large feet and say nothing). "She did. Sweet child. She'll bear
strong children, I think." She looks over at the Metis and nods to her.
"That is Winter's Child, the daughter of Frost Hunter. A cub of Little
Brother, born under the waning gibbous moon. I have brought her here to
be trained."
Leonard studies the woman, sparing a glance for the girl. "What is her moon?
What is her breed?" He peers at the girl closely. "She doesn't stand like
a human. She wolfborn?"
White Bison's eyebrows lift toward her white hair. "In the common term, a
Galliard. And is her breed not obvious?" She studies Winter's Child for a
moment, thoughtfully. "Perhaps not." With a clearing of her throat, she
switches to the Mother's Tongue. ~Pup, stand up. Let your brother feel
your hand.~
Winter's Child looks up when addressed, then with slow obedience stands and
holds her hand, with its slightly discolored nails, out to Leonard.
Leonard frowns, looking from the old woman to the ragged child. He hesitantly
reaches out and takes it.
Winter's Child closes her hand loosely around Leonard's. She's cold. To the
tune of about twenty degrees Fahrenheit lower than is natural. He can
feel the bones in her, too close to the skin.
Leonard lets go quickly, staring at her in mild disbelief. He turns to face the
old woman, absently wiping the hand that touched the girl's on his jeans.
"Metis?"
Winter's Child withdraws a step, bony shoulders still hunched, and drops back
into a crouch, not looking at either of them.
And the old Uktena woman nods. "Metis, yes. Though still Little Brother's
blood." She tips her chin up, staring up at Leonard with the calm
directness. "Her mother is dead, and there is no place for her at my
Sept. And the spirits call for her to be here. At what was once the
Wheel."
Leonard narrows his eyes. "The spirits have not spoken to me or mine about this
metis. What is your sept?"
White Bison is unruffled, though there's a touch of steel in her dark eyes.
Though smaller than Leonard by far, she has the kind of commanding aura
that comes to Garou of high rank. "Not one I may name to you, youngster.
As for the spirits..." She shrugs. "That they don't choose to speak to
your Theurges of this cub is not my concern. What _is_... is the child's
future." That steel enters into her voice. "She will be at this Sept.
Even if she needs to be trained by Wyrmcomers, she will be at this Sept."
Crazy obsessive Theurge, perhaps, but the old woman's clearly got a stubborn
streak a mile long, at least.
Leonard cocks his head, his own hackles rising. "You come to _my land_ to push
your shame off on me without telling me so much as where you come from?
Who are you to tell me what I will and will not do in my own sept? You
are not my alpha. That you are my elder is the only reason you have not
been told to leave and take your shame with you."
Winter's Child, for her part, seems apathetic to her fate, though she glances
up warily at the rising tension between White Bison and Leonard.
The old Uktena blinks once, then smiles in a brittle sort of way. "Young man,"
White Bison says briskly, "the child is not _my_ shame. She is not even
my tribe. She is Wendigo, like her parents." She meets Leonard's gaze
directly, stone-hard but calm. "I will be direct. Will you accept the
cub, train her in the old ways, or do I have to leave her in the hands of
one who spends his time in the city... or, worse, do I have to leave her
with Wyrmcomers?"
Leonard shakes his head, glancing at the girl again, angrily, then back at the
woman. "Chiminage." He folds his arms. "If you wish me to take her, I
demand chiminage for doing it. And I also ask that you come to the moot
and state who you are, who her parents are, and why you brought her here
to me."
White Bison tips her head, briefly distracted by something that no one else
senses. When she focusses on Leonard again, her lined face shows
disappointment but no surprise. Her determination's not lessened. "The
moot would be a week or so from now, yes?" The clear, dark eyes turn
calculating now; any trace of warmth has left her voice. "Name your
chiminage, then."
Jacinta finishes her climb up to the bluff, stopping once within sight of the
stern voices. She waits, quiet, as the others continue their conversation.
Leonard nods. He looks at the girl, pursing his lips in thought. Finally he
says, "At some point in the future, I will need the help of many Pure Ones.
I want your word that, should I call to you, you will come, and you will
bring as many as you can to aid me."
The Uktena gives Leonard an incredulous-granny look, peering at him hard. "Are
you _serious_, young man?"
Leonard nods, looking at her directly. "Is that too much to ask of you, old
woman?"
Jacinta's eyes turn from one to another of the Garou, one she has only just
met, two are strangers to her. The sickly cub gets a longer, more
thorough appraisal, but her attention turns sharply to Leonard at his
suggestion of Chiminage.
White Bison's mouth thins out; the Old One is clearly displeased. "I tend the
spirits, young man. I do not command armies."
Winter's Child, near the cave entrance and far from the fire and the
confrontation, sidles away from Jacinta. She remains hunkered down and
tense.
Leonard nods easily, almost cockily. "Good. Because I didn't ask for armies, I
asked for help. The spirits are a powerful ally, as you well know. You
are an elder. You belong to a sept. Your sept has other members, and as
commanding as you have been to me, I can only imagine what weight your
words must have with them. Now, I ask again: will you come to help me
when I call for you?"
Jacinta listens with rapt attention, her gaze sliding from Leonard to White
Bison and back. As the cub slides away, she spares a glance in that
direction, a small smile as well.
White Bison's mouth thins. "Let's be clear about what you're asking, little
cousin," she says to the younger, taller Garou. "In exchange for
accepting, as a Wendigo, a Metis cub born of two Wendigo, you demand that
I, White Bison, Theurge of the Uktena, an Athro, be at your beck and come
at your whim. Am I correct, young man?"
Leonard eyes the woman. "The Wendigo are not who brought her to me. The Uktena
are. It is the Uktena who seem to think she belongs here, and needs to be
raised by the Wendigo. The Uktena feels so strongly about this that she
traveled all this way, personally, to ask it. If the Uktena feels so
strongly, then the Uktena should be willing to do one small favor. I am
not asking you to be at my beck and call. I am asking you, one time, to
come to me when I ask you, and bring what friends you may. Once upon a
time such a request would not have been questioned between Older Brother
and Younger Brother." He shakes his head. "Such times are long past, I
see."
Jacinta stands mute, her thoughts now hidden by an impassive face.
"Once upon a time," the old Uktena retorts, sharply, "Cliaths knew to respect
their elders, and to keep a reasonable and polite tongue in their mouths.
By your demand, your answer is clear. It would have been better if you
had simply said 'no'." She turns from Leonard to Winter's Child and
collects the bony metis with a curt, gutteral, ~Come, pup.~ Then she
starts walking out toward the cave's exit; the Metis, still sullen and
quiet, follows the old Uktena obediently.
Leonard snarls as the old woman collects her charge and begins to leave.
"Wait." He grits his teeth.
Jacinta closes her mouth before she can speak, and again waits and watches.
White Bison lays a hand on Winter's Child's shoulder, stopping her. Then she
turns around and regards Leonard with cool, calm brown eyes.
Leonard says "Why did the Wendigo not bring her to me?"
"The Wendigo where I come from have rejected her," White Bison replies briskly.
"Because of her birth. Her mother is dead, and there is no place for her.
Nor am I able to see directly to her training." Her eyes narrow. "The
question was put to them, and they said no."
Leonard cocks his head. "Then why should I say yes?"
Jacinta closes her eyes, her head tipped forward so that her chin almost
touches her chest. In a voice a mere whisper she answers, "Because every
warrior counts. Because she must learn the ways. Because shame is no
reason to toss the fat with the gristle."
White Bison's forming brittle smile softens as Jacinta speaks; she looks over
at the young woman appraisingly, then turns to Leonard. "And mercy. Or
pity, perhaps." Her gaze is direct, her chin tipped upwards imperiously.
Leonard snorts. "Winter is not merciful. The Wyrm knows no pity, and your metis
will get none here. She will pull her weight or she will die." He turns
and takes in Jacinta. "And she will be your responsibility. If she fails,
it will be as if you have failed."
Jacinta raises her head. Her eyes spring open and her back stiffens at
Leonard's words. "Then she shall not fail."
White Bison narrows her eyes, then nods once. "Very well. And, as you say, I
will remain long enough to speak of her at the next Moot. _That_ request
of yours was not unreasonable."
Leonard nods, moving over to the child and grabbing her wrist. He fairly flings
the girl in Jacinta's direction. "The moon grows fat. It will shrink and
grow three more times. Then she will be sent on her Rite."
Winter's Child cringes back from Leonard, but can't escape being grabbed and
roughly shoved; the scrawny girl stumbles, caught off-balance, and yelps
-- the first noise she's made since arriving.
White Bison stiffens, her lined face tightening into a frown, but doesn't
intervene.
Desiree comes across the clearing, dressed from head to toe in layers upon
layers of clothing. On her back is a large hiking backbag, filled with
what is needed to restock the cavern. She is being stubborn this evening
and has found a Guardian to leader her back to the bluffs. Slowing as she
approaches, she catches the glimpse of Leonard pushing the metis towards
the unfamiliar Wendigo. Frowning, she lowers her gaze and walks past them
as she heads directly for the inner tunnels in the cavern.
Jacinta steps in to catch the girl and draw her close beside. "Ii. Assirrtua."
She turns to face White Bison, head bowed in respect. "I am called
Jacinta. Pierces Ice, a warrior for Little Brother. She will learn the
ways and be well cared for. In this, Brings the Buffalo Home is correct -
There is no pity, no mercy in the heart of the winter, and thus she shall
receive none. But the ways teach respect, and that she shall have."
Jacinta senses "Winter's Child is cold. Her body temperature's closer to 78.6
instead of 98.6. Inhumanly cold, in other words."
Leonard studies White Bison. "Should I send for your tribemate, the one who
lives in the scab? I think he would want to meet an elder of his tribe."
White Bison smiles warmly at Jacinta and, after giving her own introduction,
turns an unruffled eye back onto Leonard and nods again. "Yes... and I
would like to meet _him_ as well." Her tone suggest that she in no way
approves of Pure Ones acting as urrah.
Winter's Child doesn't cringe, but the bony girl looks uncomfortably at
Jacinta. She bites her lower lip and nods slowly, then turns her
frost-blue eyes to watch White Bison intently and unhappily.
Leonard nods. "Then I will fetch him." He looks at Desiree's retreating back.
"Desiree. See to our guest while I am gone."
Desiree turns mid-way through her trek to the tunnels and gives a quick nod of
her head before returns to her trek to the back of the cavern.
Leonard nods. "You are welcome to our fire while you are here, grandmother. I
will let the alpha of the Sept know that you will be there."
Jacinta gives the cub a small, reassuring smile, and turns back to the other
adults. "We will start her training, now. Unless you object, Leonard?"
Leonard shakes his head. "Sooner the better." He heads off down the trail.
When Leonard's gone, White Bison mutters something under her breath in spanish,
shakes her head, and gives the remaining women a smile. Then she catches
Winter's Child's eye, nods once, and then retreats to settle her old
bones back at the fire.
Jacinta looks at the cub. "Who are you, child?"
Winter's Child stares at Jacinta for a moment, then mumbles, haltingly, and
eyes lowered, "Winter's Child. Metis. Gib-bous moon. Cub. Wen-di-go."
"Her English is a little rusty," remarks White Bison, pulling a bit of string
from her shirt pocket. "Her mother was wolf-born. She knows the Mother
Tongue, though."
Jacinta looks past the cub to the elder. "Ii. Then we should continue in
English, to better prepare her." Turning back to the younger Garou she
says, "Good. Come with me. I have promised teaching to another. Perhaps
you can learn as well."
Winter's Child bites her lower lip again and gives White Bison another look...
getting a stern one in return and a shoo'ing gesture. (And when the metis
turns away, the Uktena gives Jacinta another warm pleased-gramma smile.)
With a resigned sigh, the young Metis steps over toward the stranger who
shares her tribe -- obedient, if not enthusiastically so.
Jacinta darts into the cave and returns with a largish back-pack. A blue one of
the sort school books might be carried in. "Come," she says in a
reasonable, if commanding tone, and begins the climb down the side of the
hill.
Winter's Child follows after, barefoot in the snow, trotting along like a
well-heeled dog.
[...]
At the center, Jacinta and Winter's child would arrive just in time to see
something most odd from the Warder Cub. He sits on his side, twisted over
a small hole that he dug out with his paws. His foreleg is clamped in his
mouth, biting just hard enough to cause a few drops of blood to flow down
and drip into the hole. A more perceptive mind would recognize this as a
crude and primitive imitation of the Rite of Feeding the Earth. Once
done, the cub lets go of his leg, moving forward to fill the hole back in
once more with the displaced dirt.
Jacinta walks down through the canyon at a sedate pace. Over her shoulder is
slung a backpack, and she glances often at the young cub following after.
"This is the heart of our caern. It is most important that this place is
always protected. Do you understand? Even at the cost of our lives, this
place must remain pure." As she turns back to the center, she gives a
very odd look to the Walker cub, clearly not familiar with whatever he is
doing.
Winter's Child nods silently at Jacinta's words, though her furrowed brow
betrays her need to concentrate. "No action to cause a caern to-be
vio-lated," she says in slow, halting English, as if reciting from
memory. She peers past Jacinta toward the self-mutilating wolf at the
center, her frown deepening.
At the center, Wrestles-Wolf finishes burying the blood, looking up to the two
newcomes at the sound of their voices. Almost instantly, his posture
changes in the presence of his instructor, to one of respect and
submission. Pierces-Ice-Rhya, he greets the elder.
Jacinta places her backpack on the ground and opens the main compartment. To
the cub with her she says, "Introduce yourself. This is another cub I
teach." From the pack she pulls a large rectangle of some thick hide and
a tangle of thongs. "Wrestles the Wolf," she calls over to the center,
"Have you rested well, today?"
Winter's Child's frost-pale eyes turn from Jacinta toward the other cub, and
she stares at him with shy, wary curiosity. "Winter's Child," she recites
dutifully. "Metis. Cub of Wendigo. Gib-bous moon."
At the center, Wrestles-With-Wolves, Full Moon cub of those who Ward Men and
Walk on Glass, he introduces himself matter-of-factly to the other cub in
return, indicating he was pleased to meet a new cub, not remarking on the
word 'metis.' Finally, he turns his head back to Pierces-Ice, and answers
her question truthfully for the first time of the day. No, he hasn't. He
was visited by his elder and keeper today, which has only troubled him
further. Even supplements to Mother, at this he indicates the hole,
haven't helped him.
~He bleeds for Grandmother,~ Winter's Child mumbles, reverting to what is, for
her, her native tongue. Then she bites her lip and looks down at her bare
feet for a moment -- only to look back up again and stare at Wrestles
like she's never seen anything like him before.
Jacinta watches the Glass Walker cub as he answers, at the same time, taking
the walrus hide and wrapping it around her forearm. "Ii. And did you tell
them what you have been learning?" Though it is still loose, she begins
to tie the thongs about the hide. ~Yes,~ she replies quietly to Winter's
Child, "Now help me tie these straps."
Winter's Child nods to Jacinta and stops staring at Joshua to do as the older
Wendigo asks. Cold fingers assist as best they can.
At the center, Wrestles-Wolf moves a few feet forward, looking curiously at the
straps, understanding full well what they where for. He reports that he
tried his best to explain to Scar-Rhya, but with the Waxing moon,
Scar-Rhya was more irritable than normal. He seems to believe we will
fail, Wolves thinks.
"Thank you," Jacinta says to Winter's Child and rises, now satisfied with the
wrapping around her arm. "Come with me." She heads to the center, leaving
her pack neatly out of the way by the entrance to the valley. "What do
you believe, Wrestles The Wolf?"
Winter's Child follows after Jacinta, the tall, skinny girl hunch-shoulder and
awkward next to the self-assured older Garou.
At the center, The cubs answer is simple and direct: He believes Pierces-Ice is
wise, and knows the right way. His head declines, adding that if they
could not do it, then no one short of the mother herself could do it. His
mannerisms are not flattering, instead earnest and assured.
Winter's Child, as she gets closer, falls to staring at Wrestles the Wolf again
with a furrowed-brow frown on her hollow-cheeked face.
Jacinta nods once, sharply. "Good. Assirrtuq. Then tonight you will face
yourself, and know your own heart." She comes to stand close by Joshua,
but her attention shifts to her own charge. "This one is like you in one
way. He has a problem which he must learn to turn to his strength so that
his elders do not decide he is more trouble to Grandmother than he is
help. By tomorrow, he must learn to have both his hearts beating
together." ~By morning, he must learn to have both his hearts beating
together.~ "You understand?"
Frosted eyes turn back to Jacinta. She stares intently at the Ahroun,
listening, and then nods slowly. "Two... hearts... beating to-gether."
Wrestles-Wolf sits attentively before the elder, lowering himself onto his
haunches. As politely as he can, he correct Jacinta, making sure his
posture cannot be mistaken as anything but submissive. Rhya, it is by the
rising of the sun two days from now that they will decide. Although that
is still no time at all.
Jacinta's eyebrow raises, but at the same time a bit of tension hidden in her
neck eases. "Yes? Good. Then we have two nights left. One to learn, one
to practice." To Winter's Child she nods. "Ii. You will help. Take the
wolf and be ready to do as I say."
Winter's Child obediently stretches her tall, thin body upwards, bone and sinew
creaking as she slips through the forms into lupus. Grayfurred and just
as bony, she stands on four large paws and looks alertly at Jacinta.
This not-quite fully adult wolf bitch is a starved, unhealthy-looking beast,
too tall for her scant flesh. Her dry, unkempt pelt, light gray,
stretches tight over bone and muscle and sinew, showing clearly the jut
of ribs and spine and hip. Large paws, each toe tipped with a blunt,
yellowish claw, suggest that Winter's Child has yet more growing to do.
Within her long muzzle are needle-sharp fangs that have an unhealthy yellowish
hue, and from deep sockets within her lean wolven head burn pale blue
eyes, cold as the frost.
Wrestles-Wolf remains sitting stalk still, but already he starts changing his
breathing, imitating the breathing and posture of Alicia taught him for
calm. But his tail belays how nervous he is, the end of it idly twitching
on its own accord.
Jacinta places her left hand on Wrestles The Wolf's back, commanding him to lie
down. As he gets lower, she comes to sit by his side. Her armored arm
rests now against his back, hand smoothing the fur of his ruff, ready to
grab hold when needed. "Come before him," she says to her cub. "Place
your nose out of reach of his, but within easy sight and scent. Take a
restful posture. Whatever he does, remain calm. Can you do this?"
Wrestles-Wolf barely notices it as he lays down, he's so intent on getting this
right. Breathing stays steady, slow and deep as his eyelids start to
droop half closed, tail finally stilling itself against his side.
Winter's Child can do this, she informs the older Wendigo. Padding around to
the other cub's front, she lies down as instructed, placing her head
between her forepaws. There's some tension in her, but the metis makes
herself be still and quiet.
Jacinta speaks again to the Glass Walker cub. "Slowly. Feel. Listen to your
wolf-heart. Close down your mind until you can begin to hear the distant
howl." She smiles and nods approvingly at Winter's Child. ~Be ready to
open your mind, be ready to hear and feel and think.~
Ape, let go. The shift was as obvious as before, the cub one moment calm and
relaxed, the next moment full of tension and aggression. The cub says
that he knows she's back there. He saw her; unlike the pup, he is not
blind. The cubs tone doesn't have an ounce of the submissive or
respectful quality it did before, instead his lips peel back into a bare
teeth yawn, snapping at the air once or twice as close as he can get his
mouth to the Wendigo Metis, missing by inches.
Winter's Child flattens her ears, hackles rising along her skinny neck and
jutting shoulders, and she twitches visbly, but somehow keeps still where
she is. Even so, the Metis presses herself further against the ground.
Jacinta uses only what force is required to keep the wolf on the ground. Her
words continue in the soothing tone. ~Calm, little one. Open your mind.
Let your senses tell you the truth. I am no more ape than you. Neither
are we wolf-brother. We have two hearts. We are Garou.~ Her voice goes
on, sometimes in English, sometimes in Yup'ik, sometimes in the Mother
Tongue. Her words always carry the same meaning, always the same message,
always the soothing calm tone. ~Be calm. Let your thoughts and your heart
beat as one. You are safe. Be calm.~
Wrestles-Wolf's teeth keep gashing, turning his attention to the Wendigo
holding him down. He snarls and snaps at the elder with none of the
restraint from the other night, hell bent on biting her. His teeth fail
to pierce the hide, though, and soon he focuses all his efforts on
getting out from under the pin. Apes lie. Apes try to kill wolf, He can
hear just as well as the pup can; he's not deaf.
Winter's Child's ears remain flattened, and her eyes flick nervously for a
moment to the Ahroun. Then the young Wendigo seems to steel herself, and
she stares directly at the other cub while focussing her hearing on
Jacinta's voice. While it doesn't seem to help calm Joshua, it does have
a good effect on the Metis.
Jacinta shifts upward, just as she did the night before, smoothly, subtley, so
that she has greater weight and power to control him. ~You are safe.~ She
repeats her mantra, though, in the middle, she takes a breath to
appreciate her cub's attempt to join her efforts to calm the Glass
Walker. ~Good. Let him smell your calm.~
Wriths and roils, held to the ground to the Glabro. The cub doesn't get any
calmer, instead trying all the harder to get out. Apes lie! Pup trys to
kill him, and he will not let pup do this! The wolf carries on like this
for more than a few minutes, before finally slowing, then stopping, every
now and then biting at the air. Ape/Bitch, he commands, Let go!
Winter's Child, meanwhile, does her best to stay calm, at least outwardly,
though her own temper wants to rise in response to the Walker cub's
storm. She alternates between trembling tension and slow-breathing
stillness.
Jacinta simply continues, calmly. ~Smell me. I am not ape. You are not harmed.
None will harm you while I am here. Now, open your thought-mind. Think
and feel together. Scent and sight and mind are more than scent alone,
more than mind alone. You are more than wolf. More than man. Open both at
once and do not fear.~
Wrestles-Wolf snorts defernty. He is not giving Pup back control, even for a
moment. He was lenient at first, but will not tolerate pup anymore,
Ape-Bitch. Pup had his chance, and it is over.
Winter's Child, calmer now, regards the other cub with fascination, and even a
bit of pity. Her glance flicks from Joshua to Jacinta and then back again.
Jacinta's hold on the Glass Walker cub does not change, but she shifts around
to have easier access with her other hand. ~There is no him. No
difference. You are one. Open your mind to hear your own thoughts. No one
controls your mind. I hold your body to keep you safe while your mind
comes to understand itself. Feel your heart. Listen to your head. Do both
at once.~
Right. The wolf doesn't seem convinced in the least, baring his teeth. If he
does this, Pup goes back to Elder, and then they remove him for good. He
has ears, he can hear them talk just as well as Pup. He will _Not_ be
killed. The Walker Cub roils some more, unable to get out. Even the pup's
_Name_ says this: Apes work to kill him, work to pin him into dark cave,
never to come out again. No, he is never letting Pup even a moment out of
his cave. Pup lost the moment he learned how to kill him.
Winter's Child sets up a low, regular chuffing, as close to a sing-song as one
in lupus can get. Not wolf. Not ape. Garou. Garou. Garou.
Realization spreads across the Wendigo Ahroun's features and she explains to
her cub what she believes to have happened. ~Before, his elders had told
him he would be culled. Instead of this, perhaps they would perform the
Rite of the Stole Wolf, leave him alive, but empty. A living shell. He
must have dishonored his Elder for Scar to respond so. To be culled would
merely be to be found lacking. To have the wolf taken is far worse
punishment.~ She leans into Joshua's side, her head now behind his, and
whispers softly. ~Take my scent deep into your lungs, into your heart.
Know me. Know I am no threat. Now hear me. You are not only wolf. You are
not only man. Neither half can live without being whole. You are Garou.
You must open your mind, let your fear subside. Hear me. Smell my truth.~
Winter's Child's ears flatten at the explanation of the Rite. She stares at the
conflicted Walker cub again and echoes in wolf speech. Smell her truth.
Hear her. Hear her.
Wrestles-Wolf retorts that the Wendigo is wrong. Man can live without wolf.
Ritual of stealing wolf can do this. He will not give up until pup is
broken, until pup will not go to elder to steal the wolf. Better to see
pup culled than him killed.
Jacinta repeats her words of calm. ~You are right. Far better to die whole than
live as only half. Joshua must come to understand this. Better still to
live whole. Open your mind, let your thoughts mingle with your
wolf-heart.~ She smiles appreciatively at Winter's Child as she continues
her mantra. ~Smell my truth.~
Winter's Child looks hesitantly pleased at what she sees as approval from
Jacinta and chuffs again. Wolf _and_ man. This is truth. Hear her. Hear
her.
Wrestles-Wolf inhales sharply, slackening as he does. The cub takes a few
labored breaths, looking hallow and crushed. Did it. Wolf put up fight,
but pinned him back. The cub audibly huffs, as if he just ran some great
distance. Wolf would not give up. Not like last night, he wouldn't budge.
The cubs eyes droop closed with a deep sigh. Too hard. Why was it so hard?
Jacinta does not give him even an instant to recover. "Fear. Your heart knows
you come close to killing it. Your heart fears. Your head hides from the
fear. Now. Again. Go back to that place, only know what you want, this
time. Know you want both heart and head to be wolf and man - Garou." ~Go.
Now.~
Winter's Child's head lifts, then settles back between her paws. The Metis cub
seems more confident now, and intently interested in the strange Glass
Walker.
Wrestles-Wolf slips back into the feral mind with terrifying speed, the same
transition between being lax and being tense being the tell-a-tale sign
of the change. The wolf doesn't try to break for it, this time, instead
just glowering strait forward. Stupid pup. Doesn't know when to take kill
and gorge. Pup must like torturing himself.
Jacinta returns to her attempt at calming speech. ~Listen now. Listen for your
head to meet your heart. You are still safe. Do you smell that truth?~
Winter's Child, as before, echoes with something similar to Jacinta's words,
all the while staring intently at the other cub.
Wrestles-Wolf's responce is short and irritable. Stop your squawking,
Ape-Bitch. He snaps his jaws at the air in front of Winter's child,
indicating she should do the same. Speak plain or do not speak at all.
And get that /whelp/ to silence itself.
Jacinta continues, unmindful of the cub's response. ~Listen, little one. Be
calm and at ease. There is no need to fear. Open your mind. Let your
senses inform your thoughts, thoughts inform your actions.~
Winter's Child flattens her ears, cutting off into silence at the snap. She
looks as though she's considering moving a bit away, then glances at
Jacinta and stays right where she is. Slowly, she lays her head back
down, and then shifts her hind legs so that her back end is stretched out
on its side. She chuffs. I am calm. I do not fear you. I am Garou. Like
you.
Stupid Ape-Bitch. He growls out, curling back his lips as his jaws hang open.
The first indication that anything is wrong is his head: fur slowly
darkening as the color changes, before the Cub cracks and shifts up to
his Dire-Wolf form, having had enough of the this. Ape-Wolf or not, you
two are all that keeps him from being free, and he has had enough.
... and the giant sized Hispo prompty collapses back down to the ground. Just
like the night before, Jacinta was prepared with the falling touch. The
cub got no where.
Jacinta matches Josh's shifting, moving into crinos to keep him in place. ~Take
the wolf, Joshua. You learn nothing, here.~ Her tone is stern, but not
harsh. Commanding without cruelty.
Winter's Child stiffens as Wrestles shifts up, her hind legs tucking closer to
her body, though not quite getting under her. Her pale eyes are wide.
Wrestles-Wolf snarls, now massive head snapping as he tries once more to break
free. The cub isn't getting anywhere, Jacinta having the advantage of
starting out with the pin to begin with. Stupid Monkey-Wolf, he snarls
out, hind legs trying feverishly to lift himself up. He is -not- the pup.
Pierces Ice wrestles to keep hold of the cub. ~Then we must find your true
name. Now calm yourself, and take the wolf.~
Wrestles-Wolf actually does just that. He slips down to Lupus, trying to use
his smaller body size to jump out of the elders's grip.
Pierces Ice's greater body mass would possibly have left the cub an opening,
had she not been commanding this very action. Her large hand remains
clenched on his ruff, the weight of her torso bearing down on his ribs.
~Calm yourself. Tonight you must find your center. Listen to your heart.
Listen to your head.~
Wrestles-Wolf knows his center, he growls out. And it is not Pup. All the while
he tries frantically to scratch and claw at the elder ineffectually.
Doesn't look like he's going to break her grip.
Winter's Child, silent now, simply observes, growing more confident as Jacinta
keeps such a strong grip.
Pierces Ice seems prepared to wait him out. She simply continues to try to
reach both of his halves at once. Wolf-child. ~Wolf-child. To live you
must hear both hearts in tandem. Listen to the beating of your heart.
Listen. Listen.~
Wrestles-Wolf finally slackens in her grip, tension still present. _Why?_ He
growls out, Why should he listen to Pup? What does working with Pup get
him? Food? If it wasn't for him, pup would have starved. Station? Pup
challenges and looses even to weakling. Pup brings nothing, and he does
everything. So -why-?
Winter's Child licks her her dull brown nose with a long, grayish-pink tongue,
the motion briefly showing her needle-sharp, yellowish fangs. Her ears
twitch.
Pierces Ice's wolfish jaw slackens in a grin only her cub can see from this
angle. ~Safety. Packmates. Life. Without the head-thought, you would be
alone. Wolf-brothers will fear you, not accept you. With your heart
whole, you will have packmates. Garou, like you. With your heart whole
you need no longer fear. The Elders will not wish to harm you. With your
heart whole, you will be at ease both day and night. With your heart
whole, you will exist at all times, and no longer need to fight your
head-thoughts to be heard, to be allowed to hunt.~ With her right hand,
Jacinta touches the wolf gently, far enough from his muzzle that she is
not suddenly a tempting target. ~Open your mind. Let heart and head
combine.~
Wrestles-Wolf hangs limply in the air, teeth setting as the elder speaks.
Finally, he growls out a list of... demands? No Stolen wolf. No being
forced back into mind-cave. No being locked in stone hives. Must be free
to hunt. And pup must change his name to something -respectful-.
Pierces Ice chuffs at that last, an almost human laugh from the Crinos form.
She cuts it short, however, in an attempt not to upset the cub further.
~No Stolen Wolf. No culling. When you open your heart and open your mind
at once, the mind-cave will end. You will not be locked in the stone
hives, and you will be free to hunt when you have permission of the alpha
as you need. And, we will find you a better name.~ She does not say,
although the metis cub may read it in her posture, that while she hopes
these things are true, she has no guarantee, and the truth lies within
the cub himself.
Winter's Child's ears cock forward. She looks from Jacinta and back to the
Walker cub, interested in his reply.
Wrestles-Wolf growls slightly at the laugh, turning a dark eye to the direction
of the elder still gripping him. He snarls out one last bit: He's
trusting pup. If pup begins to betray him again, he will kill pup. Not
lock up, -Kill-. With that, the tension drains from him once more,
leaving only the Walker Cub hanging loosly in the grip of the Crinos
Wendigo.
Pierces Ice looks down at the cub beneath her and says only, ~Again. You are
close. Now you can hold both thought and heart at once. Do it /now/.~
Winter's Child's eyes widen in surprise at the order.
Wrestles-Wolf whimpers from his spot in the air. He can't, he's weak, he's
tired. He needs to sleep. And wolf is stronger, alert, dominant. The cub
sounds as weak as he claims to be, near mental exhaustion.
Pierces Ice strokes the wolfen form's ear. ~Yes,~ she acknowledges, ~No more
wrestling. No more fighting the wolf in your heart. Embrace him. Become
him. Allow your thoughts to merge with his. Now, your heart is open
waiting for you. Bring your thoughts into the wolf.~
Winter's Child's dry brush of a tail sweeps the ground behind her, once, twice.
Wrestles-Wolf tries the one last time, eyes rolling as once more he attempts
another connection with the feral mind. For a long moment, he just hangs
there. A moment stretches into a minute; a minute into two. Finally, the
tell-tale tension returns, the cub snapping his eyes open, squirming
slightly.
Pierces Ice says only, ~Both. Heart. Mind. Both.~
Winter's Child chuffs, then echoes her teacher readily.
Wrestles-Wolf squirms some more, head arching back to try and face the elder.
Release pin? Uncomfortable being held to ground. Getting squashed here.
Rhya?
Pierces Ice tips back her head and howls, weight slowly coming off of the cub.
Her howl is joyous and clear. The note of triumph rings out across the
night. ~Well Done! Keeps the Heart of the Wolf! Well done!~
Winter's Child's ears perk. She pushes her forepaws against the ground and
levers herself up into a sit.
Wrestles-Wolf shakes himself off as he stands up, getting all the snow and dirt
off of him. He Chuffs that he doesn't have much say in keeping it. But
they can work things out from here. He pauses mid step, before
considering outloud: How is he going to tell Scar-Rhya that he won't have
his wolf stolen?
Pierces Ice pulls herself up to her full seven feet and looks down on the wolf.
~You will say that you do not wish it. You will say that you would prefer
a clean death, if one is necessary. You will say that you are Wolf Heart,
and you have no need, and no wish, to be less than whole. You will say
this with respect, and with honor, and Scar-rhya will hear your words. He
may test your heart. He may not believe, at first. But Scar-rhya is
Fostern, and has wisdom. He will not want to lose a warrior if there is
no need.~ With these last words, she glances at her own cub, but the
glance is brief and she returns her attention to the Glass Walker. ~If
you ask it, I will stand beside you when you speak to your Elder.~
Winter's Child studies the other Wendigo as she speaks, her too-pale eyes
intent.
Wrestles-Wolf's head declines respectfully, responding to the Wendigo the best
he can. He would like Pierces-Ice to be there. He must convince both his
elder and his keeper, both of whom have great presence. And if the decide
that he sould indeed die instead of having the wolf taken... the comment
goes unfinished, the weight of the situation returning to the cub. It is,
after all, he adds, not over yet.
Pierces Ice slowly retakes her breed form and places a hand gently on the Glass
Walker's head. "No," she admits, "It is not over. It is never over."
Turning, she steps over to Winter's Child. Back in homid, the walrus hide
slides easily over her hand. "Please try to remove these knots without
harming the leather." Then, looking again at her first student she says,
"Tomorrow we will test your heart. If you are strong, perhaps we can
begin the instruction you first requested. If you still desire it?"
Winter's Child slides from wolf form to human form and takes the object from
Jacinta without objection. Dropping into a squat, she bends down over the
hide and starts working carefully at the knots, picking at them with
yellowed fingernails.
Wrestles-Wolf hesistates, before indicating that he does. If Pierces-Ice-Rhya
was still willing to teach, he was still willing to learn.
Jacinta chuckles softly and looks down at Winter's Child. "What lesson have you
heard twice tonight that your fellow cub has not yet learned?" Her tone
is light, humorous, but there is an edge to it that tells that she is
serious in asking her question.
Winter's Child looks up from her careful picking at knots. Her brow furrows at
the other Wendigo. "Lesson... learned?" She studies Jacinta's face to
confirm that she understand the gist rightly, then chews on her lower
lip. "All... all warriors... uh... good. All warriors good. To be. Have."
Wolf-Heart stares at the ground in front of him, before agreeing with ear
flick. Finally, he looks back up at the elder and the other cub, Setting
himself slightly. Rhya? I have patrol the bawn once more tonight, before
I rest. May I fulfill my duty before moon has fallen?
Jacinta grins broadly, pride nearly radiating from her. "Yes. Grandmother needs
all the warriors she can get. All are necessary. By strengthening each
other, we strengthen the protection for Grandmother." She turns her smile
back to Josh. "Yes. I will teach you. Tomorrow. Now, you must patrol and
we must rest. Piurracauqa, Wolf-Heart. Piurracauqa."
The smile that Winter's Child gives Jacinta is shy, guarded, but clearly
pleased. She bends her head afterward and focusses more intently on the
knots, getting them loose one by one.
Wolf-Heart backpedals, bobbing his head as he cuffs out a farewell, before
turning from the two, trotting off into the woods around the Caern for
the long patrol. There is still the heavy cloud hanging over his head:
while he had done what he had set out to do, the knife was not yet
avoided. And he doesn't forget this.
Jacinta watches the Glass Walker go and then returns her attention to Winter's
Child. "So, child. Do you prefer to sleep outside, or in the cave?"
Winter's Child is almost done with her task; the last knot is difficult and
tight. She looks up again. "Out... out-side. I like... cold."
Jacinta nods. "Even me. Let's stay here, tonight, then. Give Brings the Buffalo
Home time to accept you before we go back."
Winter's Child tenses at mention of Leonard and nods. She frowns as she picks
at the last knot, and -- finally -- works it free. Quietly triumphant,
she offers it back to Jacinta.
Jacinta takes it with a silent smile and puts her belongings away in her bag.
Returning to the center, she shifts down to lupus and curls up not far
from caern of stones. Rest easily cub. There will be more to learn
tomorrow.
Winter's Child joins the other Wendigo in lupus form -- the thirty-degree
temperature now low enough for even _her_ to feel a bit of a chill -- and
curls up on the ground nearby... but not pressing close to seek the
other's warmth.
[During the caern scene, back at Wendigo Cave...]
White Bison> Hiking up the trail by his lonesome, Reggie manages to look small,
compared to the big mountains around. But only when compared to them. In
spite of the low temperatures and high humidity, he's quite overheated,
despite his walking pace.
White Bison> White Bison is within the cave, comfortably enjoying the
hospitality of the fire, seated crosslegged and humming softly to
herself, eyes closed and hands on her knees.
White Bison> Reggie uses spit to smooth down the worst-tangled of his grey fur,
and rubs away a mustard streak from the corner of his mouth, at a brief
pause before he reaches his destination, the head of the trail. He looks
to the west. He looks to the east. He looks at a loss. The thought of
looking for a cave doesn't occur to him. But the idea of trying out his
yodelling skills occurs to him, and he bellows out the news of his
arrival. "AAaayooooooouh". It's a good imitiation of a wounded bison.
White Bison> In reply, a few moments later, the thin, white-haired form of
White Bison appears at the mouth of the cave. She squints at Reggie, then
sniffs with an expression of mingled amusement and disgust. "What _are_
you doing, silly boy?"
White Bison> Having expounded his breath on the trek and the yodel, his voice
is now a hoarse whisper as Reggie works to get his breath back. "Heard
there were openings in a remake of Heidi. No? Leonard
Finds-Buffalo-and-Moves-them-Across-Country didn't tell me much.
Something about people here. Someone wants to see me? I'd have gotten
more out of him, but he's discussing new bison recipes with Megan.
Something about using Guinness on them."
White Bison> White Bison lifts her eyebrows at Reggie and folds her arms across
her chest. For such a tiny old woman, she's downright imperious. "You're
the Uktena who lives in the city, aren't you?"
White Bison> Reggie attempts a bow, but his stomach keeps him from getting much
further than a head nod and a sweep of his arm. "Guilty as charged." He
considers, and begins, "Well, there is that one who lives in a van--",
and brings off his sentences under her imperiousity, and sweeps his eyes
low.
White Bison> White Bison blinks once. "So. There _are_ others." Then she
smiles, from elderly bitch-queen to amiable granny in a heartbeat, and
waves him over. "Come in. There's a fire. We shall talk."
White Bison> It isn't a question of Reggie having to decide whether to follow
or not. He immediately does so, although casts suspicions at the height
of the cave's ceiling.
White Bison> White Bison sits down crosslegged by the fire, displaying only a
little stiffness. "Ahh. Now. We introduce ourselves." She looks Reggie
over. "I am called White Bison, a Theurge and, as you can see, not a
spring pup like the rest of you here."
White Bison> Desiree comes out from one of the tunnels, having completed
storing the food stores in the back of the cavern. She narrows her dark
eyes towards the Utkena she has not had the chance of meeting, but
Leonard has spoken about.
White Bison> Taking a spot nearly across the fire, but with a flame-free line
of sight to the other, Reggie follows her lead and lowers himself to the
ground with a grunt of effort. "Pleased to meet cha". Straightening his
shoulders, he continues, "I am Rags-Torn-to-Rags, a full moon of the
Uktena, a Metis of the Mohawk, and Reggie Coward at The Sticks--that's my
place in the city. A pool hall. I run it with my brother". He blinks some
smoke out of his eyes as he notices Desiree, and he belatedly looks about
for other hiding spots.
White Bison> "A pool hall." White Bison shakes her head, gives Desiree a warm
smile, then turns back to Reggie. "I take it that you're the... elder of
the tribe at this Sept?" She says it like she can't quite believe it.
White Bison> Desiree crosses her arms, looking stubbornly across to the younger
Uktena and mutters something in Salish under her breath. "Would you two
like anything to eat or drink?" she offers, remembering that Leonard had
asked her to show some hospitality with company being around.
White Bison> Reggie begins to nod to Bison, before the magic word 'eat' grabs
his attention and he explains to whoever the third person is, "Yup!
Particularly if it's highly processed and shrink wrapped." He considers
his chances that there's beer about, recalls it's Leonard running the
show here, sighs tragically, and turns back to White Bison. Curiosity
colours his question, "What brings you here?"
White Bison> White Bison likewise accepts the offer of food and drink, though
with much more dignity. "Delivering a cub of Little Brother," she says
then, answering Reggie.
White Bison> "Sorry," she explains to Reggie showing a light frown at his
responce. "The Great Father provides us with what we have." She turns
before another comment can be made and disappears into the back passages
of the cavern.
White Bison> Reggie's spirits sink at the reply, and his resignation sinks into
his voice as he replies to the elder, "A cub? That must have made Leonard
happy."
White Bison> White Bison's lips go thin. "He might have been. But the cub is a
Metis. So he was less than pleased."
White Bison> Reggie's head shoots up, and he whistles his surprise. "Noooo.
I'll bet he wasn't."
White Bison> White Bison smiles wistfully, ruefully. "He's a fiesty young man.
If a bit full of himself. But..." The old Uktena shrugs. "The cub has
been accepted. She has a chance to learn the old ways. The rest is up to
her and Grandmother."
White Bison> Desiree comes back a moment later with a pot with water and what
looks to be some packaged rice. She sits near the fire and begins to
prepare part of what she had stocked up on while she was at the
farmhouse. As she prepares, she offers Reggie and White Bison a drink
that is almost like an herbal tea. She allows the two to talk without
breaking into their conversation.
White Bison> White Bison takes the proffered drink with another of those warm,
grandmotherly smiles.
White Bison> Shock after shock rattles Reggie. "He accepted her? What do you
have on him?"
White Bison> Apparantly, White Bison's taken quite a shine to the young
kinswoman. Holding the cup in both small, wrinkled hands, she sips
delicately. Then she chuckles. "Nothing except mercy and persuasion...
and, fortunately, that sweet young warrior who offered to be teacher. And
take the burden."
White Bison> Desiree is as quiet as a mouse as she creeps around the pair. The
woman looks to be preparing and cleaning up from earlier as well as some
other simple activities.
White Bison> Reggie looks into the cup, sniffs it, then puts it down on the
ground. "Mercy and persuasion--", he echoes, then dismisses the first
with a slight shake of his scarred head, and repeats the second,
"Persuasion. You must have talked really fast."
White Bison> White Bison smiles, though there's a hard edge to it now. "You
don't think the boy knows mercy? So. As they say, winter knows no pity,
no mercy." She shrugs, sips again, and repeats an earlier statement. "The
child has a chance, now. To learn or die. More difficult than most, but
better than she would have gotten when _I_ was young, heh."
White Bison> Reggie looks at White Bison as though trying to estimate what
century that would have been, but his words are more politic as he nods,
"I guess so. Where're you and the cub' from?"
White Bison> "Long ago and far away," White Bison says, enigmatically. "A
colder and, mmm, stricter place." She sips. "But I'm rather out of
politics. I'm just an old woman who tends to spirits." Yes, an old
_Uktena_... and everyone knows the kind of spirits Uktena usually tend to.
White Bison> Reggie mumbles a few more courtesies, then remembers a space
heater melting some pipes that needs to be attended to, and makes his
leave.
[...]
White Bison> White Bison is seated crosslegged by the fire, sipping the warm
drink that Desiree provided for her and staring with half-lidded eyes at
the dancing flames.
White Bison> Desiree comes back out after completing a chore and stirrs the
rice in the pot as it cooks. Once she is finished, she places a portion
into a bowl and offers some to the elder Uktena. "I have made enough for
the others when they return," she says softly as she takes a seat near
the fire.
White Bison> Leonard enters with a heavy tread, and the reason soon reveals
itself: he brings meat. A (rather scrawny) deer rests across his
shoulders, the broken haft of an arrow protruding from its chest. He
drops it on the floor of the cave just inside the entrance.
White Bison> "Thank you, dear," says the old woman to the young. Then
she turns an eye onto the returning hunter, her smile more secretive and
thin. She gives him a nod, then begins to eat the rice given to her."
White Bison> Leonard nods back to the old woman, pulling out a knife. "I gutted
him, but its too cold to skin him out there. Can't see for the steam." He
kneels next to the carcass.
White Bison> Desiree looks to Leonard and smiles softly, her eyes flickering
with light amusement. "I see you brought home more than I could have
asked for, but we have company." she says. "Go ahead and sit..." she
tells Leonard, "There is some food in the pot for you." Its just plain,
cooked rice. "I will see to it."
White Bison> Leonard arches an eyebrow at Desiree, but nods, leaving the knife
by the carcass and sitting next to the fire, warming his hands before
digging into the rice.
White Bison> "It will be warm enough soon," White Bison remarks, between bites
of rice.
White Bison> Desiree takes Leonard's place in preparing the meat to be cooked,
while she allows him to speak with the old-Utkena woman if he wishes. She
has no wish for talk at the moment.
White Bison> Leonard shrugs. "Wendigo's got some air in his lungs this winter.
It'll be a long one." He eyes the Uktena. "How far did you have to travel
to get here?"
White Bison> "More than a few days," the Old One answers. "From the east."
White Bison> Leonard huhs. "Stop by Rosebud on your way here?"
White Bison> White Bison looks from her rice to the Wendigo, studying him
coolly. "We stopped nowhere between there and here. Why do you ask?"
White Bison> Desiree works without hesitantion, staying quiet as she works but
listens to the pair as they converse.
White Bison> Leonard shrugs, watching the old woman. "I have friends there. I
thought you might have run into them." He puts the bowl to the side,
having finished. "I have to wonder why you are so secretive about where
you came from."
White Bison> "Do you?" White Bison tips her head to one side. "Ah. But I
thought you would realize that there are things that may not be spoken
of, even to cousins. Especially _young_ cousins."
White Bison> Leonard bristles at that. "Oh yes, the Uktena's love of secrecy. I
fear to ask you what you might like to eat." He shakes his head. "And you
wonder why..." He stands abruptly, grabbing an empty bowl, and heads out
of the cave.
White Bison> White Bison watches Leonard go, her calm unruffled, her manner
quite cool. Then she turns to Desiree, handing over the empty bowl. "I
don't think I shall burden your hospitality for long." Her tone is
neutral.
White Bison> Desiree takes the empty bowl from White Bison. "Perhaps the
farmhouse you would seek more friendlier hospitality in the meantime,"
the kinswoman suggests. "Some of the Wyrmbringers there are friendly
enough, although not particularly trustworthy." She glances towards the
door, although waits to talk to Leonard until she has shown the proper
respect to the Uktena.
White Bison> Leonard enters maybe five minutes later, bowl of snow in hand. He
sets it near the fire, retaking his seat, and stares into the flames.
White Bison> "I will need to meet with the Sept's alpha soon, in any case,"
White Bison is saying as Leonard enters. As he sits, she gets up.
"Perhaps I will go speak to the voices of winter." Another smile for
Desiree, and the old Uktena shifts into lupus form and pads outside,
leaving the pair of youngsters alone.
White Bison> Leonard shakes his head, watching the old woman leave. Once she's
gone, he mutters, "I don't trust her."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hazlogs
