"Forgive me if I seem to ramble..."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 14:16 Pacific Time on Sun Mar 14 2004.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 57 degrees
      Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the 
      southwest at 13 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.34 and steady, 
      and the relative humidity is 67 percent. The dewpoint is 46 degrees 
      Fahrenheit (7 degrees Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waning Half Moon phase (44% full).

Bawn: Southern Forest
Evergreen trees spread their overhead branches wide across the forest floor.
      Each tree limb interlinks with its neighbor, forming a thick overhead 
      canopy of pine needles that leaves the forest floor dim even at noon. An 
      apparent tenseness seems to permeate the air here, and there is a 
      somewhat less than subtle feeling that perhaps something is watching. The 
      behavior of the wildlife in the area betrays a certain wariness that 
      suggests the presence of predators nearby.
The southern edge of the bawn is marked here by the railroad tracks which run
      from St. Claire and Kent's Crossing to the west, towards the mountains to 
      the east.

Pierces Ice trots easily through the forest, here, on the well scent-marked
      paths traveled by Garou. She is not so quiet as a scout might be, but her 
      easy movements attract little attention.
Salem's presence is scented long before he's seen, though he's making no
      special effort to hide. It's the scent of the city and the irritating 
      smell of past-smoked cigarettes -- the latter a bad habit he's recently 
      resumed, even though he isn't indulging in it now. Hands in pockets, he 
      stares up at the trees, frowning.
Pierces Ice slows as she scents the Glass Walker. Locating him, she shifts up
      to homid before approaching. Her bearing is different than it has been 
      with the Fostern in the past - still deferential, she is cooler in manner 
      and voice.
Salem glances over. Dark, reflective lenses hide the Walker's eyes, and his
      expression is mixed, difficult to read. "Afternoon, Jacinta," he greets, 
      politely enough.
Jacinta bows her head after studying Salem's unreadable expression.
      "Salem-rhya." She lifts her head, gaze fixed just below the rim of his 
      glasses. "I," her pause is short, accompanied by a tensing of her spine, 
      "I had wished to speak with you. I have been told things."
Salem's brow furrows, eyebrows drawing together over the dark glasses.
      "'Things'?" His mouth thins. "What sort of... 'things'?"
Jacinta hesitates, considering her words carefully before she speaks. "Before
      Brings the Buffalo Home left, he told me of an incident involving you, 
      and one of our kin. I would hear from you, your view on events, before I 
      resolve myself to an opinion."
Salem's nostrils flare slightly. "You mean Sarah Berard." He exhales a mildly
      frustrated-sounding breath. "_That_... is quite a story." He makes a 
      beckoning gesture and starts to move off. "The Sept compound's not far. 
      Come on, and I'll tell you what I know."

The Sept Compound
Sweeping branches of trees form a sort of natural roof overshadowing most of
      this clearing, no more than an open space of grasses and beaten earth in 
      the heart of the forest. Some pains have been taken to keep wear and tear 
      on the area to a minimum, so the firepit tends to shift from time to 
      time. The firepit, several sawn logs polished from use, and a stack of 
      firewood discreetly piled up at the base of an old spruce under a tarp, 
      are the only signs of constant occupation. However, those of a 
      naturalistic bent might think that some minimal landscaping or planning 
      had been done, for nestled among the winter-browned grasses are a few 
      hardy perennials that, come spring, will create a profusion of color in 
      the clearing.
A faint trail leads off to the east, and a bit north.

Jacinta follows the Fostern into the compound. Her gaze falls on the stone
      slab, and rests there for a while.
Salem takes a seat on one of the logs near the -- currently quite cold --
      firepit and gestures for Jacinta to sit down as well. Following Jacinta's 
      glance toward the slab, he grunts. "Sepdet's idea, after we regained the 
      caern and when the Sept had almost no Guardians. Rather out of date, 
      though it's difficult to erase stone." He shrugs. "Anyway. Sarah."
Jacinta grunts and moves to sit by Salem. She nods, otherwise silent.
Salem presses his palms against the log he's sitting on. "Forgive me if I seem
      to ramble, but there's a lot that went on in the background that I 
      suspect that Leonard didn't tell you... and, to be fair, he probably 
      didn't think it was important." He shrugs. "Sarah was friends with 
      Sepdet. Close friends. So was Leonard, in fact... they packed together 
      under Salmon. The pack dissolved after the caern's reclaiming. Badly." He 
      frowns. "Our old caern totem, Fog, was gone, and the Sept was trying to 
      decide who to petition to replace him. When we called out, both Chimera 
      and Wendigo answered. Wendigo, by the way, had been extremely helpful in 
      our fight to take the caern back from the Dancers. Nobody denied this, 
      though... well. As you can imagine, not many of the Sept was thrilled 
      with the idea of Wendigo as the caern's sole totem." He shrugs. "Much of 
      this I'm telling you second-hand, since I don't know spirit-speech, but 
      if I remember rightly, the offer was made for both Chimera _and_ Wendigo 
      to join with the caern, the way Magpie and Buffalo and Cougar had in the 
      old days. Chimera's wisdom and Wendigo's strength, except Wendigo 
      refused. Said we weren't bitter enough and stalked off."
Jacinta grunts once more, recognizing the truth about Wendigo's expectations,
      and that this Sept would not meet those expectations.
"Now," Salem continues, "Sepdet had at some point made a vow to see your tribe
      restored to prominence at the Sept at some point, but she also felt that 
      the time wasn't right, and that Wendigo being the caern's totem wasn't 
      the way. Or something. She didn't work _against_ Wendigo being chosen, 
      but she didn't work _for_ it. Or at least not enough for Leonard's taste, 
      so he called her an oathbreaker, banned her from Wendigo lands, and their 
      pack disbanded. And then Leonard went to Sarah and told her that if she 
      ever even talked to Sepdet again, he would murder the Strider."
Jacinta nods slowly. "Brings the Buffalo carries great anger. Sometimes it
      blinds him to the truth."
Salem grunts agreement. "Sarah stopped going out to the woods after that, I
      believe, and avoided Leonard. I suspect that they'd never really gotten 
      along, and Leonard... Well. Sarah moved back to the city and concentrated 
      on her studies at the university, and things remained at status quo until 
      someone broke into her apartment and started stalking her. She moved back 
      to the farmhouse and there met Leonard again. She still wanted nothing 
      more to do with him, but Leonard didn't understand and kept asking her 
      why."
Jacinta's head tilts, brow furrowing slightly in curiosity. Some of the tension
      has left her as she continues to hear what she recognizes as truth.
"One of my cubs was staying at the farmhouse at the time," Salem says.
      "Quentin. How he ended up in the middle of this, I don't know, but when 
      Leonard agreed, he attempted to mediate and explain to Leonard why his 
      kin was upset with him. Leonard responded by striking Quentin, and... 
      well." He grimaces. "I won't bore you with all the details, but suffice 
      to say that I personally witnessed Sarah acting afraid of Leonard... so 
      much so that she felt the need to get a shotgun. And I saw him shift to 
      Glabro to wrest it from her and act threateningly."
Jacinta shakes her head sadly. "And then?"
Salem folds his arms across his chest. "Sarah wanted to go back to the city,
      but she was afraid because of this stalker. It was the first time I'd 
      heard about it, actually, but I agreed to help. So did the Bone Gnawers, 
      under Renee at that time. She went back to the city, first to the 
      Gnawer's territory, an abandoned church, and then to a new apartment... 
      in the same building I was living at the time, in fact." He shrugs. 
      "Safer for her that way, I felt. Leonard, I assume, told you I'd 
      kidnapped her, but Sarah acted of her own free will. Leonard, on the 
      other hand, insulted the Bone Gnawers and then hunted on my own 
      territory, outside my home, without permission or even a by-your-leave. I 
      eventually beat him in fair combat and told him to get the hell out of 
      the city and stay there." He scowls. "And do you know how he responded to 
      that?"
Jacinta raises an eyebrow, "How?"
Salem's eyes narrow behind the dark lenses. "By using his Crinos form to beat
      unconscious and then kidnap one of _my_ kin, a young man named Jeremy who 
      was visiting the farmhouse and who thought that Leonard was his friend. 
      He stripped him, dragged him out to the mountains, and then dropped him 
      down a fucking hole. And then, while I and several other Garou risked our 
      necks rescuing him, Leonard went _back_ to the city to hunt down Sarah." 
      He inhales a deep breath and lets it out, controlling his temper. 
      "Fortunately, I'd already told Sarah what had happened, and she, with 
      Quentin escorting her, went down to L.A., to the Sept of the Steel Angel."
Jacinta scowls. "I understand. Thank you for your honesty." She rises, crossing
      her arms over her chest and begins to turn away.
"Wait," says the Glass Walker.
Jacinta stops, and turns back to Salem. "Yes?"
Salem gets up, reaching inside his coat and taking out a small spiral notepad
      and a pen. "As far as I know, Sarah's still in L.A.," he says as he 
      writes. "This is the e-mail address of one of my tribe there. I'll 
      contact them tonight and let them know that I vouch for you, and we can 
      see about getting you in touch with your kin." He tears off the page and 
      regards the Wendigo Ahroun steadily. "Perhaps you can draw her back. 
      Perhaps not. But she at least should know that someone in her tribe gives 
      a damn about her as something other than..." He grimaces. 
      "..._territory_."
Jacinta takes the paper and, after glancing at it, slips it into her back
      pocket. "Thanks you," she says with a nod of respect. "People are not 
      belongings, and respect must be given, in order to be earned."
"I'm glad you agree," Salem replies evenly, putting the pad and pen away.
      "Before you go, though, I have a favor to ask you."
Jacinta raises an eyebrow, the muscles at the back of her neck tensing, again.
      "What is it you need?"
Salem's hands vanish into his coat pockets. "I don't know what you know, if
      anything, about the situation in the city, with these Russians. There's a 
      plan in the works to take out one element and work towards bringing down 
      the entire organization, but it will require a faked death. My own." He 
      pauses, mouth thinning. "I want to make sure that there's as little 
      chance as possible of the Russians finding out that I'm not really dead, 
      but it's clear that some of them have their own kind of magic."
Jacinta nods, slowly, as though she is trying to understand something just
      beyond her grasp. "Yes. I have heard some little bits about this."
Salem grunts. "Yes. Well. You know a ritual called Break with the Past. I've
      heard it said that it can change one's True Name. Is that correct?"
Jacinta says "Ii. That is it's purpose - separating an individual from what
      they once were, and allowing them to begin anew."
Salem nods. "Would you concent to performing it for me, after the ambush?" He
      smiles thinly and, it must be said, rather cynically. "Presuming there's 
      anything to perform the rite _on_, of course."
Jacinta's jaw works, teeth tapping in slow rhythm as she considers the request.
      "It is not a thing done lightly. If you give up your name, your old self, 
      it must be heartfelt. Like renouncing your auspice, you could never again 
      be Salem, or Scar. That person would be gone. Are you ready to do this?"
"I've already died once," the Glass Walker replies, his voice flat. "I doubt
      that a second time will be any more difficult." His shoulders roll in a 
      shrug. "Besides the whole Russian thing, it will be... appropriate. So, 
      to answer your question... yes."
Jacinta says "Then I would be honored to perform the ritual."
Salem inclines his head. "Thank you."
Jacinta smiles gently, "Quyana to you, as well."
"Your tribe is lucky to have you," says the Glass Walker as he turns to go.
      "Walk with Gaia."
Jacinta nods and returns her attention to the stone, fingering the carved
      glyphs.