Bad Packmate

[hazlogs]

Bawn: Western Forest(#3018RAh)
Tall Sitka spruce and sequoia crowd around and above you. Many of the trees 
  are old, their branches twisted into impossible shapes, trunks broad and 
  draped with lichen, mosses and creepers. Tendrils of moss hand down from 
  them like green spiderwebs, snaring the unwary with cold, ghostly fingers. 
  The patches of younger growth are dense and pale, needles tinged with 
  silver. Matted undergrowth huddles sullenly in the occasional small 
  clearings, clutching with thorns and burrs at the legs of those who would 
  pass. Deer seldom venture here, but the forest is full of rustlings, and 
  tiny glints from wary, watchful eyes.
The forest spreads out to the east, bounded on the west by Sunrise Road. From 
  farther to the west, one can occasionally here the distant sounds of the 
  town of Kent's Crossing.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (69% full).
Currently on this breezy and warm spring afternoon in the general St. Claire 
  area, it is 70 degrees Fahrenheit (21.1 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming 
  from the south-southwest at 8.8 mph. The ground is wet and it is raining. 
  Skies are overcast with a definite chance of precipitation.
Nightflash is moving through the forest in the direction of the Caern.

Voice-of-Trees is more or less concealed in a hollow under an old fallen tree, 
  only his muzzle emerging from within the darkness under the mossy, overgrown 
  trunk.
Nightflash doesn't appear to notice the Fianna in his hiding spot, because he 
  continues on eastward.
Voice-of-Trees notices the big Gaian pass by, and his head jerks up with a 
  startled chuffing sound.
Nightflash' ears swing in the direction of the sound and the rest of him 
  follows. He eventually spies the other Garou and chuffs a greeting as he 
  approaches.
Voice-of-Trees's skull-like head is visible at the lip of the hollow, his ears 
  canted backwards and his sunken eyes shifting and uncertain, and somewhat 
  morose. He crawls a short way out of the hollow, squirming his shoulders 
  past the low entrance and greets the Gaian meekly.
Nightflash sees that you are not well. What troubles you?
Voice-of-Trees's pack are unhappy because he could not talk to them.
Nightflash wonders if you have seen them in the last two nights.
Voice-of-Trees answers in the affirmative. I saw them last night. They were 
  unhappy.
Nightflash looks curious.
Voice-of-Trees moves his head vaguely from side to side in a human-like shake 
  of the head, and flops down again, resting his head across his paw. I am not 
  a good packmate.
Nightflash sits back on his haunches to listen.
Voice-of-Trees sighs. They are hurt because you helped me and they could not. 
  I hurt them because I can't talk to them about... this.
Nightflash looks like he doesn't understand. I should they they would be happy 
  that I was able to help. It was your own packmate who came to us for aid.
Voice-of-Trees doesn't seem to understand it much, either, and in fact 
  dwelling on it makes him tired and upset. But he is afraid that he is not a 
  good packmate.
Nightflash thinks you should talk to them. Spending more time away from your 
  pack will not heal this wound.
Voice-of-Trees agrees, wearily. Then he remarks on how he misses 
  Deep-Fires-of-Strength.
Nightflash does not recognize that name.
Voice-of-Trees lifts his head from his paws. He is one of your tribe and one 
  of my auspice. He was tainted with the Weaver, as I was. Our totem sent him 
  on a task. He has not yet returned.
Nightflash remembers him now. I had not realized that he had gone missing.
Voice-of-Trees looks a little stricken at this, but says only that he was -- 
  /is/ -- a good packmate. We understand each other.
Nightflash bumps up against Voice-of-Trees lightly. Once you have settled with 
  your pack, you and I will resume your teaching. Until then, continue to wear 
  this form. I will bring you food.
Voice-of-Trees indicates his agreement, and his thanks.
Chases-Nothing steps through the back door from the barnyard.
Chases-Nothing has arrived.
Chases-Nothing darts down to the ground from up in a tree, looking around. 
  Seeing the other two people there, he offers a traditional greeting of "Hey."

Drahcir Chases-Nothing is a smallish lad of about 15, though he looks slightly 
  more youthful. His features are lean and sharp, but the first thing you 
  notice are his electric green eyes. You'd swear some Glasswalker planted a 
  pair of neon signs in his head. Second to his colorful eyes is the shock of 
  long, bright red hair that lies on top of his head like some shaggy animal 
  that's been sleeping there for the past five years. It's very shaggy and 
  Chases constantly picks strands of it from his face. He wears clothing 
  crossing the styles of the Fianna and the Bone Gnawers. An old green 
  button-up shirt and some low-cut reddish denim cutoffs adorn his lean 
  figure, and the cutoffs are stained and painted with all sorts of different 
  symbols. The few that stand out are the Fianna, Philodox, and Homid symbols 
  all in a row. One that catches your eye is a strange incorporation of the 
  Wyld, Wyrm, and Weaver symbols all into one. His demeanor seems a little 
  strange, as he is constantly darting about between obstacles and people, as 
  if he wanted to stay off the ground. For those who look carefully beneath 
  the young Fianna's shining eyes, they detect an old and painful sadness from 
  the past that hasn't quite been tucked away where it belongs...

Voice-of-Trees startles, and the skeletal wolf ducks back into the hollow under the 
  fallen treetrunk
Nightflash looks up at Chases-Nothing curiously, even warily.
Chases-Nothing glances into the hollow, expecting to see something eerie.
The near-hairless, grotesquely thin Metis does not seem inclined to come out, 
  especially not with such peering eyes.
Nightflash growls softly at the man, hackles going up.
Chases-Nothing looks backward at the much larger wolf behind him. "Gaa! 
  Sorry..." He shrugs nervously and backs away.
Nightflash moves around to interpose himself between the stranger and the 
  hollow, but doesn't seem inclined to attack the human.
Chases-Nothing starts, shrinking briefly. "Heh... oops... I mean... yeah." He 
  blinks embarrasedly as he shifts.
Chases-Nothing contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Chases-Nothing shifts into Lupus form.

You find yourself gazing upon the figure of a rather smallish wolf, bearing 
  scruffy fur and a happily lolling tongue. Energy courses through his 
  electric green eyes and you'd swear nobody has seen brighter ones. His fur 
  is a deep burgundy and he tics merrily, enjoying this form greatly while 
  getting used to it. He scratches nervously, however, suddenly realizing that 
  this form comes along with some rather nasty vermin.

Nightflash pads up to the stranger, sniffing curiously. Then he sits back. We 
  could have been true wolves.
Chases-Nothing sits back on his haunches. True wolves? I do not understand.
Voice-of-Trees peers out of the hollow, but doesn't seem inclined to come out.
Nightflash looks at Chases-Nothing as if he might be a bit slow. True wolves, 
  those who do not change their shapes as we do.
Chases-Nothing blinks. Ah. I do not believe we have met... at least in this 
  form.
Nightflash is called Nightflash. I was born to Her Children under the 
  brightest moon.
Chases-Nothing thinks for a moment, not used to lupine speech, and struggles 
  toward the pronunciation of his name in the lupine tongue. Aha. I am called 
  Drahcir, Chases-Nothing, and Bright-Eyes. Under half-of-luna to the Fianna 
  tribe.
Nightflash chuffs softly. Well met, Bright-Eyes. He looks back to Erik. I am 
  off to hunt something to eat. I will return with something for you.
There's a rumble in Garou from within the hollow. ~Voice of Trees. Galliard of 
  the Fianna.~ A slight movement, and then a chuffed agreement, and thanks, to 
  Nightflash,
Nightflash moves through the forest, heading east.
Nightflash has left.
Chases-Nothing looks toward the hollow, then in Garou (a much more comfortable 
  tongue), ~Voice-Of-Trees. Your name fits you.~ He chuffs as if chuckling.
The unseen shape withdraws to the very back of the hollowed-out space under 
  the mossy, fallen tree-trunk. He says nothing.
Chases-Nothing leans over and peers into the darkness from where he sits. ~Not 
  one to talk, are you? You are a Galliard, mm?~
Voice-of-Trees says, ~Yes.~
Chases-Nothing squints, not used to his new eyes. ~And yet you do not speak 
  much. Tell me a story.~
No response.
Chases-Nothing pokes his nose into the first tiny bit of the shadow. ~You are 
  still there?~
Curtly: ~I am tired. Please go away.~
Chases-Nothing shakes his head. ~Hm. Fine. I suppose I understand.~
Silence from within the hollow.
Chases-Nothing looks back into the hollow, then begins to trot off toward more 
  woods.