Hazmat is Frustrated

[hazlogs]

Lonely Hilltop
This is a truly odd place, startling in its abrupt change of scenery. It is a 
  large, grass-covered hill, without so much as a single tree on it. However, 
  all around the foot of the hill, the forest crowds in, trees packed densely 
  together. A large stone, perhaps three feet in diameter, sits on top of the 
  hill. One face has been sheared away as though by a great axe, leaving a 
  glimmering reflective surface. From the hilltop, it is almost possible to 
  see over the treetops, but not quite. The greater heights of the eastern 
  mountains are visible from it, in distant, hazy splendor. There is an air of 
  peacefulness that hangs over the place, almost a sleepy feeling. Most of the 
  time, few noises can be heard except for the blowing of the wind.
The dark green of the forest surrounds the hill on all sides. Going any 
  direction will likely be something of a struggle.
Contents:
Shakes
Wayfinder
Flowers

Hazmat perks her ears curiously at Shakes, then pads closer to sniff him. 
  Thoroughly.
Shakes drops to lie down on the hill, letting out a slow breath. Do I know 
  you? He doesn't bother sniffing back too much. Doesn't seem in the mood for 
  it.
Hazmat lifts a forepaw to lay it on Shakes's back, lightly, her tail raised in 
  a dominant manner. She seems to take the other's reaction as some kind of 
  submission. Watches-Pups, Rabbit, ~Hazmat.~ Trickster-Gnawer of the Wheel. 
  You seem familiar.
Wayfinder turns away from the two Gnawers, to go back to communing with the 
  wind.
Shakes looks up at Hazmat with his one green eye. Shakes. We've met. He seems 
  really out of it at the moment. Issues of dominance don't seem to be 
  something on his mind right now.
Hazmat tilts her head to one side, snuffling behind Shakes' left ear. What 
  happened?
Shakes lets out a short chuff. Fiery Hand is dead. It's my fault. The male 
  Gnawer's posture shows strong emotions of regret.
Hazmat steps back in surprise, and then sits down. The crazy Walker? What did 
  he do?
Shakes sets his head down. He messed with our tribe, my pack alpha and our 
  Kin. We were just going to mess him up a little. Things got... stupid.
Hazmat scratches at her belly with one hind leg. It happens. Hand-of-Fire was 
  not right in the head anyway. He never was.
Wayfinder chuffs, sadly. Your tribe also attacked two of the Gaurdians 
  attempting to referee the fight.
Shakes nods. But that doesn't make it right. The Sept wants my alpha's head 
  now, even though none of them liked Fiery Hand, either. He nods at the 
  Guardian. Yes, Wayfinder-yuf. It was stupid. We were only trying to teach 
  him a lesson and others... interfered. Remy wouldn't let it happen any other 
  way. We wanted to take him back to the city, where no guardians would be 
  involved.
Hazmat stops scratching, her manner becoming a good deal less casual. They did 
  *what*?
Shakes sighs. No one did shit until the Strider pulled out his gun. And like I 
  said, it would not be a matter for the Guardians if Remy hadn't made it so 
  by starting the fight here.
Hazmat shifts her weight, ears flicking backwards, forwards, agitated.
Wayfinder sighs. Maybe so. He chose to fight in his territory. Maybe he was 
  afraid. Did you ever think of that?
Shakes doesn't want to argue. He places his head down. My alpha killed Remy, 
  but it was his own fault. He tried to kill her last week and ran back to the 
  Sept for protection. Then, we return, not to kill him, but to just hurt him, 
  he made it lethal. It was his fault as much as ours.
Wayfinder gets up, and shakes out her fur. Maybe you tell the truth. Maybe he 
  did. But we will not know now, since he is dead.
Hazmat paws the ground, still upset. Stupid, she says, not directing the word 
  at anyone in particular. Stupid, stupid. A small, thing, but worse trouble 
  has been started over small things. Why didn't you go to a Half-Moon? Why is 
  it that whenever Gnawers come into Sept lands, it is to ask for something or 
  cause trouble?
Shakes raises his head, snapping it around to face Hazmat. We only wanted to 
  bring him back. He *started* the trouble. Hell, we probably stopped more 
  trouble than we caused. He was a betrayer of everyone. Maybe it was his 
  father's blood in him. Shakes drops his attitude suddenly, going back to a 
  slightly more submissive state. What's done is done. I'll take my 
  punishment, but we did what we thought was right. And we -wouldn't- have 
  come to the Sept had he not chosen to hide here like a coward.
Hazmat's hackles rise slightly. But it *is* true that you and the others never 
  come to the Sept anymore. You don't even *try* to be part of the Wheel. Why? 
  Why is that?
Wayfinder points out coldly that he was not hiding out, as far as this one 
  knows. And a half-moon trial could have brought him to justice, much more 
  effectively. She shrugs, beginning to pad down the hill. It is too late now.
Shakes shakes his head at Hazmat. I can't control the actions of my 
  tribemates. *I* have come out here, to try and learn things. All I have 
  learned is that the Fang I asked to teach me to fight put off my request and 
  I almost died. And others that I showed respect to here don't give a damn 
  about me. We don't come because we're not welcome - even when we try to do 
  right.
Shakes looks at Wayfinder as she heads off the hill. Wayfinder-yuf is the only 
  one here that I have found that I respect.
Wayfinder hesitates, and turns back. Her expression is hurt. You did not 
  respect enough to obey me, Shakes, even as I spoke as Guardian, which should 
  have been reason enough.
Shakes drops his head. No, and I should have. But I didn't fight until I had 
  to. I tried to keep others out... nevermind. He collapses on the grass, 
  sighing heavily.
Hazmat paws the ground again. You're not welcome because you don't come. 
  You're not welcome because everyone now sees Gnawers are Anruths. *Not* part 
  of the Sept. Not *contributing* to the Sept. Don't you understand that? You 
  act like the city is all there is, and nothing's really important out here. 
  You go into the city and call it home, and that's fine, but you only care 
  about your home. And whenever Gnawers come out here, there's trouble, 
  because of that stupid coward girl with no sense and Dances-in-Pit, who acts 
  like Chugs sometimes and tried to steal a Shadow Lord cub away from them.
Hazmat is up and pacing by the end of this little speech, highly worked up and 
  upset.
Shakes looks up at Hazmat with his one good eye. Like I said, I can't control 
  my tribemates. I'm not alpha of anyone. Not even myself, it seems.
Wayfinder turns back, and makes her way down the hillside the rest of the way, 
  then disappears into the forest.
Hazmat stops pacing and looks at Shakes. Who *is* alpha? Who's mother? Who's 
  father? Or is everyone a pup?
Wayfinder descends the northern side of the hill, and heads into the forest.
Wayfinder has left.
Shakes looks away from Hazmat. I don't need preaching. I know what I've done. 
  And I've always shown respect to the Caern and the Sept in the past. I 
  didn't mean for this to happen. It was stupid.
Hazmat barks to get the other's attention. I'm not *talking* about that 
  anymore. You said you're not alpha of the Gnawers. Who is? Father ~Mac~?
Shakes looks back, regarding the bitch with his good eye. You mean you don't 
  know?
Hazmat meets the gaze squarely. I only just got back from the north, and 
  haven't been back to the city yet but once. When I left, everybody was 
  drooling after Chugs like he was the best thing ever.
Shakes shakes his head slowly. Chugs has disappeared. Said he went off hunting 
  something bigger than he was. I guess Mac is alpha, but I wouldn't know it. 
  He never says shit to me. I never see him.
Hazmat turns around three times and lies down. Then I'll have to be it, I 
  guess. If Mac doesn't want it and no one else is taking responsibility.
Shakes stares at her, then lifts his body just enough to show a patch on his 
  chest where the fur doesn't grow across nasty scars. Don't say I don't do 
  shit to help the Sept. He stares at her, then drops his gaze. You've been 
  gone too long. Someone else should be alpha. Mac needs to take the 
  responsibility.
Hazmat glances at the other Gnawer and then chews casually at a flea. Gone is 
  past. Now, I'm here, and now is what is important. And you're not the only 
  one to have scars, Shakes. Scars are easy to get. I have them too, see? Do 
  you want to know how I got them?
Shakes shakes his head. I don't give a shit. My point is that I got mine 
  helping the Sept... You say Gnawers give nothing to them but grief. I
  almost gave my life for them. What I get in return is scorn. I want
  nothing to do with the bastards.
Hazmat looks at the other Gnawer for a long moment. Then she asks, calmly, 
  *Why* did you almost give your life for them? Huh? Was it for glory? Was it 
  for the wolfkin? Was it for your own little piece of territory? Was it 
  because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time? Well, why?
Hazmat obviusly thinks that whatever Shakes answers is important. Maybe it's a 
  test.
Shakes shakes his head slowly. It was because Wayfinder-yuf asked me to go 
  scouting with them, to learn something she was teaching me - how to smell 
  the enemy. I respected her as a friend and a teacher, so I went. We were 
  attacked by wyrmcreatures and I had my entire chest ripped from my body. She 
  was injured as well. I had to run all the way back to the Caern with a 
  sucking chest wound to find a healer for her. When I got here, they nearly 
  let me die as they went to help her. It was not for glory or honor. That 
  shit's for fuckers who are looking ta die. I don't wanna die. I gotta kid on 
  the way, an' I hope he's Garou.
Hazmat exhales, relieved. This was, it seems, the kind of answer she was 
  hoping for. Then she explains something. Wayfinder is a member of the Sept. 
  You're not. They cared more for her *not* because you're a Bone Gnawer, but 
  because you're an *Anruth*. I mean, *I'm* a Gnawer and people like me just 
  fine. And I don't suck up to people, either.
Shakes shakes his head once again. They don't want me as a member, I think. 
  Before this happened, I mean. I don't care - I don't feel comfortable out 
  here.
Hazmat chuffs. Did you even ask?
Shakes continues shaking his head. No. Every time I asked for anything, they 
  looked at me like an outsider. I wanted to earn their trust first, before I 
  asked. Too late for that now. The alpha kicked Shadows out of the Sept last 
  night. Didn't even listen to her side of the story, really. No one here 
  gives a shit what a Gnawer says.
Hazmat gets up, snapping angrily at the air, and begins pacing again, uttering 
  small, choked growls of frustration. Her ire, though, is not really directed 
  at Shakes, and it seems part of her agitation is that the foe is not here to 
  bite. Suddenly, she turns and barks another question. What do you know of 
  Shadowspeaker, the Ratkin?
Shakes just shrugs. I know of two Ratkin. They both live in the sewers. The 
  one you mentioned saved my life not long ago.
Hazmat utters a growling little huff, but otherwise makes no reply. She goes 
  back to pacing.
Shakes looks around from the vantage point the hill gives. I just wanna go 
  back to the city. I didn't *wanna* come out here in the first place - not 
  for what happened, I mean. What do you think they'll do to Shadows?
Hazmat flops abruptly down onto her side and starts gnawing on a forepaw. Who 
  knows? Hand-of-Fire wasn't a cub, after all, and I don't think the Walkers 
  liked him much anyway.
Shakes chuckles under his breath. No one like him. Makes no difference. Did 
  you know that his father was a Dancer? He told me once, when we were on Rite 
  of Passage together.
Hazmat stops chewing her paw and huffs a sigh, suddenly tired and not a little 
  depressed. He probably did it deliberately. It's happening all over again, 
  or maybe it never stopped.
Shakes shakes his head. It's stopped for him. He was convinced that when he 
  died that he was done for. Told me he was sure that he was going straight to 
  hell when he died. Not that I believe all that stuff.
Hazmat doesn't reply for a few long moments. Fisher-King. The Sneetches. Mac. 
  Rolls-in-Dust. Rawhead. Dante. They were Bone Gnawers. They were members of 
  the Wheel. They were *good* Gnawers, and other tribes respected us. More or 
  less. Then a crack opened up between Gnawers and the rest of the Wheel. We 
  didn't start it. They didn't start it, either. Everything's ruined now. 
  *Still.*
Shakes looks at her. I don't know most of them. I try my best, but everything 
  always falls apart. It ain't my fault.
Hazmat pushes to her feet and shakes herself roughly. Maybe *that's* the 
  problem. Everybody's so damned concerned about it not being their fault that 
  no one wants to do anything.
Shakes shakes his head. That's not what I said, dammit. What I said is that 
  everytime I try to do shit, it falls apart. I /try/, dammit. Just like last 
  night. I didn't wanna kill the bastard...
Hazmat growls and paws the ground. But it *happened* and it's *over*. Past is 
  gone, and it can't be changed. It can't be fixed. And that wasn't what I was 
  talking about, anyway. Garou kill Garou all the time. The *problem* is that 
  there's still a fence between Gnawers and the Wheel, and it has to come down.
Shakes finally nods. How? I'd help, but ya prolly wouldn't want me ta fuck 
  things up again.
Hazmat casts a sad look at the other Gnawer. I don't know, yet. She shakes 
  herself again and starts padding off northwards, her tail down and brooding.