"It's a lot like Jonah and the whale sometimes."

[hazlogs]

Location: The Caern (Firepit)

It's cold this morning, with the temperature rising but still right at the
freezing point. Fortunately it's not a dreary day, as the sun is out. The
cold air is still, mirroring the stillness within the caern.
Brings-the-Pack is seated on his haunches perhaps a little too close for
comfort to the fire pit. It would seem he has gathered some fresh
"sacrifices" of wood from the forest, and the fire has been built up
higher than it normally goes.

Salem takes the first few steps into the caern in wolf form, but is in homid
by the time he makes it over to the fire pit. He looks bleary-eyed and
sour, but summons up a bit of a smile and a raised hand of greeting to
Brings as he approaches. "Morning."

And into the area wanders a wolf, the black-and-brown female the cougar
encountered yesterday - and quite possibly the stranger, or
not-entirely-stranger, who howled and was welcomed the night before. She
huffs a greeting to the cougar and the Homid, rather than trying to sneak
around, but she does keep a distance from the fire.

(Wintersbite)
This mature female wolf has a thick brown-and-black pelt and amber eyes. She
looks to be young enough that the world is still something of an
adventure to be explored; her ears are never still and her nose and
tailtip are constantly twitching. She's well-groomed, most of the time,
and while she's not a stunning example of the breed, she is a perfectly
ordinary wolf, with an uncanny intelligence in her amber eyes and a
lightness to her movements.

Brings-the-Pack pivots his ears in greetings to the two newcomers. "I wonder
if, eventually, a garou is going to come upon a cougar and assume it is
me when it is not? Certainly not within the confines--borders--of the
caern, but.... that might be funny." He says to Salem, "Apologies for my
extended absence. My father passed, I had to take care of his estate,
and... I found myself in need of time and space."

(Brings-the-Pack)
This is a North American cougar (Puma concolor couguar), which is not an
uncommon animal in Washington State, although they are rarely seen by
humans. Typical of the species, it has a slender, muscled body with a
round head and pointed ears. Like most cougars, this particular specimen
is substantially longer, taller, and heavier than the average wolf. He
likely tips the scales at about 160lbs and measures nearly 8' from nose
to tail: Much of that is certainly tail. This cougar's pelt is slightly
more reddish-orange than usual, although not unusually so. Lithe,
powerful, sinuous musculature is readily visible beneath the cat's short
fur, giving some indication as to the power and speed available to this
apex predator should it choose to use it. The black "mustache" marking
around his nose and mouth is more pronounced than usual, giving the
feline's already-handsome face an even more suave--almost
debonair--appearance.

"A cougar in the caern is either you or a materialized spirit, so either way,
a little hello seems appropriate." Salem glances at the arriving wolf,
eyes narrowing slightly, but after a moment he looks back at Brings.
"Sorry for your loss."

(Salem)
This lanky white kid is a couple of inches under six feet tall and
looks to be around sixteen years old. His straight black hair is
medium-length and shaggy; he's probably past due for a haircut. He's got
a thin face with a beaky nose, thick eyebrows, and dark brown eyes. He's
not a bad-looking youth, quite the opposite, but there's still something
about him that makes most normal people uneasy, a feeling of potential
violence, of predatory intensity.
Rumpled blue jeans, battered sneakers, and black t-shirts are his
usual attire, along with a black hoodie for the colder weather and a
black denim jacket over that.

The wolf's tail flicks her indifference to whether the cougar is really a
cougar, but she moves closer, expanding to the near-wolf shape as she
does so. Her ears stay up and her fangs stay hidden, and there's no
aggression there as she settles a short distance away, politely waiting
for the current conversation to finish.
Wintersbite contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Wintersbite shifts into Hispo form.
This adult female thing has a thick brown-and-black pelt and amber eyes. She
looks to be young enough that the world is still something of an
adventure to be explored; her ears are never still and her nose and
tailtip are constantly twitching. She's well-groomed, most of the time,
and while she's not a stunning example of the breed, she is a nine foot
long monstrosity of muscle, fur, fangs and claws.

Brings-the-Pack looks about the caern, only slightly leaning back as the
newcomer shifts upwards into hispo. That definitely made the cougar-mage
a bit nervous, even if it hadn't been intended that way. But he stays
put, and then responds to Salem. "I imagine the spirits are more prone to
materialization during caern-based rituals and moots."

Salem's eyes narrow again, and ever-so-casually, he moves so that he's a
little bit closer to the Hispo and just a little bit positioned as though
the lupus might be a danger to the talking puma. He addresses the giant
wolf calmly. "You look familiar but I'm failing to place a name to you."

The Hispo tries to make herself a little bit smaller when the cougar leans
away. She's not very successful, but she tries.
~She-Whose-Howl-Summons-Winter's-Bite,~ she introduces herself to Salem.
~Lupus Fianna Theurge, Fostern, once of the Hidden Walk.~ She turns her
gaze on the cougar. ~I did not mean to worry you, not-Cougar
Ally-the-Sept, but words.~ Her ears flick flat to the sides for a moment,
then up again - she doesn't like words much, it seems, but sometimes they
just have to be done.

"Sorry," the cougar-mage replies softly, words spoken slower than usual. "I
have not been around the garou much recently, and.... exercising...." He
picks a simpler word. "... being careful around garou is always a good
thing to doe. Thank you for using hispo instead of crinos." He seems to
be fairly knowledgeable about garou society and/or terminology.

Salem seems more or less satisfied with this and offers up his own
introduction. "Jack Salem, called Scar, Adren Philodox of the Glass
Walkers."
Wintersbite's tail flicks an acknowledgement of the cougar's words - and his
wisdom, for that matter. Her attention turns back to Salem in very short
order, and she tilts her head to bare a little of her throat to Salem.
~Scar-Rhya,~ she replies politely.

Salem nods to acknowledge the gesture of respect and steps over closer to the
fire to sit down, crosslegged on the bare ground. "Have you been around
long?" he asks the lupus.

~I came here the night before last night,~ Wintersbite replies, her throat
hidden once more with Salem's acknowledgement. ~Before that...~ Her ears
flick out a lupine shrug. ~It is many winters since I was here last.~ As
Salem sits, Wintersbite's head lowers almost reflexively, making her look
even smaller. It's an odd look on a Hispo - but possibly not as odd as
the look she gives the cougar. She still doesn't quite know where he fits
into things.

"I imagine a lot's changed since you were last here," Salem says. "Any
particular reason that brought you back or," and here he gets a wry,
slanted little half-grin, "were you just drawn back?"

Brings-the-Pack offers a reassuring yet indirect welcome. "It is good that a
garou has returned. The sept could use more defenders."

Wintersbite's tail flicks assent again. ~There is much that has changed,~ she
agrees, then adds, ~The totem of my home sent me. He did not say why, but
he waited for my last litter to see their first winter through.~ There's
more to it than that - her body-language isn't quite right for the
statements - but she doesn't elaborate. The cougar gets an amused look
from the overgrown wolf, but one that comes with thanks for the sentiment.

Salem rubs the side of his nose with his thumb, looking thoughtful. "Sent.
Hm." Then, more briskly, "Agreed. Glad to have you back. And
congratulations on the new pups."

Brings-the-Pack looks from Fianna to Walker and back to Fianna. "Yes.
Congratulations on raising the pups." He seems genuinely pleased about
that accomplishment. He then looks between the two garou. "I am often
surprised by how much faith the garou place in spirits. Returning here
must be a huge change in your life. Was it unexpected?"

Wintersbite does perk up at the congratulations, both sets. She's rather proud
of her cubs, it seems - and that they're cubs, plural. ~Thank you,~ she
replies to both, before looking to the cougar. ~I needed to go from where
I was.~ No anger, just sorrow. ~It was time to return to the homid world.
Dragon is ancient, wise. He sent a dream. And so I am come. But...
unexpected? I do not expect. It /is/, I /am/.~

"It's a lot like Jonah and the whale sometimes," Salem says, looking at
Brings. "Sometimes you can ignore it, sometimes you do and end up eaten
by a big marine mammal."

Brings-the-Pack pushes to all fours and stretches as he speaks. "I imagine it
makes more sense to those who are more spiritually attuned. I am, but
clearly to a lesser extent." He regards the caern pointedly and remarks,
"But it is difficult to imagine someone who could come to this place and
NOT feel the tug of the spirit world." Stretch and observation completed,
he excuses himself as he cuts through the caern to the southeast.
"Speaking of spiritual pulls, I need to go check on my territory. It was
a pleasure visiting with you both. And Salem, I believe the sept alpha
might wish to speak with you about Walkers and their ability to
communicate amongst themselves quickly and securely." And with that, he
slips into the trees.

Wintersbite watches the cougar go, then looks to Salem again. Apparently the
reference to Jonah and the Whale meant nothing, but it's obvious that
she's used to that and doesn't really care anyway. And with the cougar
gone, in the blink of an eye she's a wolf again. With a certain amount of
relief.
Wintersbite contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Wintersbite shifts into Lupus form.

Salem gets a bit of a wry expression at mention of the Sept alpha and mutters
something under his breath just audible to lupine ears: "Lovely." Then,
to her, "What have you been told about our cougar-y friend?"

Told? Next to nothing, apparently. Not-Cougar Ally-of-Sept. Although, the wolf
does let it be known, she still finds him profoundly... wrong. An
all-body shiver is impressive with that much winter fluff to shake.

"I'm not especially fond of cats myself," Salem says, scratching his chin.
There's maybe a ghost of adolescent stubble there. "But I'm not
exaggerating to say that many Garou live because of him, and the caern
spirits accept him. Strange as that may seem."

Wintersbite has seen senior Garou accept his presence. Elders of the Sept. She
doesn't question that, or his usefulness to the Nation. But it speaks.
That's just /wrong/. So says the Lupus.

Salem nods. "You get used to it." He scratches idly at his jaw. "You get used
to a lot of things, in time."

And isn't that the truth. Wintersbite heaves a heavy sigh, the sigh of a being
who's seen a lot and knows there's a lot more out there. Or even here.
This place is not as she left it, she's sure of it.

Salem extends his arms in front of him, fingers laced together, stretching.
"This place chances regularly. It's born and reborn again. I like to
think it's the key to its survival."

The wolf doesn't know about this place, but she does agree that change is key
to survival. Things that do not change? Do not survive.

"Truth." Salem relaxes out of his stretch and pushes up into a standing
position. He tilts his head, looking down now at the wolf. "I'm guessing
that you haven't had any trouble with food and shelter, have you?"

The wolf rises after Salem, stretching before she answers the question. The
respected Elder who finds his way has found her a place. She does not
sleep on the Bawn, for now.

Salem nods and touches a hand very briefly to his forehead in a gesture half
salute, half wave. "Good. I'll be seeing you, then." He turns to head
back out of the caern.

And Wintersbite will be seeing you too, respected scarred one. And with that
she pads off to go and explore some more.