03 December 2009, 10:00 AM

Algeron stood over the sleeping man, and measured his worth carefully. He looked a bit run down, but he’d fought well enough last night. Admittedly, he had been charged by the youngest members of the Sept, but he’d held his ground against the lot of them. He was a mystery, and they Theurges had spent the time while he slept to figure out the answers to some of their questions. What tribe was he, and where was he from? The visions the Caern totem had shown them indicated that he was running, but not what from. That could mean anything.

The man began to stir on the cot, his eyes blinking in the morning light that was beginning to creep along the ground into the Cave’s interior. Signalling to his fellow Sept Elders, Algeron stood up, ignoring the minor sparks of pain from old wounds. Howling Thunder took his blind side, and Shadow’s Whisper his other. The Warder had seen the events of the previous night’s revel, but Shadow’s Whisper had not. Her input would be as valuable for its first impressions as Howling Thunder’s was for his witnessing the fight. Together, the trio waited until the man woke and sat up on the sat.

"I hope you slept well," Algeron said with a smile. It always paid to be polite. At the man’s hesitant nod, he continued. "Good. There is something we need to discuss," he said as he handed the man a wooden bowl filled with steaming ground oats. He waited until the man started eating, and noted that he had a good appetite. "You are running, this much we know. From what, we don’t care in the abstract. What we do care about is whether you wish to continue running. If so, I would suggest you start today. If not, then perhaps you could tell us what you are running from and we just might be able to help you when the time comes. In the mean time you can help Gaia here."

The man gave a little half-shrug that seemed to imply that what he was running from was of little importance, but there was enough hesitation that Algeron thought the man was at least minorly concerned. Finally, whatever conflict he was wrestling with seemed to be resolved and he spoke.

"The name’s Rory Devaney. The People know me as Nightfire. A while back," he began, his lilting accent still plain in his voice "the sept leader of the Burning Fires Caern in Belfast decided we needed an edge o’er the English, who were supportin’ the Oranges. England sends helicopters, an’ we didn’t have a way to counter tha’. My job, along wi’ others of my sept, was to find a way to take out that advantage. We broke into a warehouse guarded by the English, an’ stole some Stingers. Later, I used one to bring down one of the helicopters. MI6 didn’t take too kindly to tha’ an’ sent one of their agents after me an’ my squad. It wouldn’t have been a good idea to take him out, as that would only bring more of them investigatin’." His tone left the impression that there was more that wasn’t said, both about the raid on the warehouse, and the agent in question.

At least two questions were answered now. With a name like that, and coming from the Burning Fires Caern in Belfast, he had to be one of the Fianna. Judging from his actions of the previous night, he was also an Ahroun, and apparently one with some combat experience.

The Fianna continued. "The agent’s name is William Sheldon, but I don’ expect him to show ‘is face here." Again, Rory’s tone told more than his words, as if he wanted to believe his statement more than he really did. "Seein’ as that’s how it is," Rory grinned, making an attempt at light-heartedness, "I’d love t’ stay an’ help ye here. From th’ looks of things, ye could use another Ahroun, as seein’ how yuir pups need some time to heal."

Algeron laughed. "That’s what I like about you Fianna," he said. "No matter what, you have a sense of humour." After his laughter had subsided, he continued. "Very well then. We will do what we can, and you are completely welcome to stay. Welcome to the Sept of the Eagle’s Eye, Rory. This is Howling Thunder, a Lupus Ahroun of the Wendigo tribe, and Warder of the Caern," he said, gesturing to his blind side. "And this is Shadow’s Whisper, Homid Theurge of my own tribe, the Silver Fangs. The two of them will show you around the Sept, and explain the way we do things here.

Algeron looked hard at the Garou gathered before him. He wondered what mysterious force had gathered them all here. It had begun roughly a month ago, after the Fianna arrived. One by one, or in the case of the Get of Fenris brothers, two, they had all arrived at the Sept of the Eagle’s Eye. By and large, they were all tried and tested Garou, having undergone a Rite of Passage at the Septs of their "birth," although the Get brothers again, were an exception.

For a while he wondered what to do with them. There simply weren’t enough chores to go around for all of them at the Sept, and it would insult their honour to leave them without anything to do. In addition, the manner and timing of their arrival smelled of omen, and no Garou worth his salt ignored an omen as blatant as this. These young Garou had to be put to use in service of their Sept and Gaia. They had to be made a pack. He frowned. Normally packs were formed by like-minded Garou who agreed to bind their destinies together, but it seemed this pack had already been thrown together by Greater Forces.

He looked back at Shadow’s Whisper, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. He made his voice hard, and spoke to the assembled Garou. Few would dare challenge him in this matter, partly due to his rank and position, but partly because he was due that much respect. He was born to lead, and he knew it. They knew it, too, no matter how much the wanted to rail against it. "You have been called into service for your Sept and Gaia, and you must answer, but not alone. Just as one wolf cannot fulfil Gaia’s will and cull the elk herds alone, neither can a Garou do Gaia’s work and fight the Wyrm alone. Thus was the first pack formed, and thus you must form a pack." He looked at each of them anticipating the arguments that would follow. The Fianna would not be a problem, nor would the Silver Fang. The Get brothers were inexperienced and not likely to want to rely on anyone but each other, but would learn. The Black Fury might not like working in a pack of males and certainly wouldn’t want to work with the Get, but he was confident that she would give in eventually. Algeron’s eye quickly passed over the rest: A Bone Gnawer, a Child of Gaia, a Stargazer, and an Uktena. None of these should cause any problems.

One by one, the Garou agreed. The Silver Fang and Fianna were first in to agree, followed closely by the Child of Gaia. Soon after, the two Get of Fenris, the Stargazer and the Bone Gnawer all agreed. The Uktena heaved a sigh and gave a nod, while the Black Fury sat on her haunches, defiance smouldering in her eyes. Algeron glowered back, and she finally relented.

Shadow’s Whisper stepped forward as soon as the last of them had consented, and spoke. "A Garou pack is more than a few Garou who run together. They are tied together by the bonds of Gaia, and in accordance of the pact with the Spirits, guided and watched over by a totem spirit. Many of you already know a bit about totem spirits, and some know more than others. Before you can be sealed as a pack together, you must select a spirit you wish to serve as your totem. When you have done this, let me know and I will call the spirit." Shadow’s Whisper withdrew a few steps, and watched as the pack formed a circle. They were still unsure of themselves in a group, and their positions indicated such. Some hung back, as if not wanting to be involved, but close enough to hear what was being said.

Maximillian Clendenning, dressed as most people would expect some Stargazers to be dressed, folded his hands as he addressed his pack. Raising his eyes to the heavens, he intoned more than spoke. "My preference for a totem for the pack would be the Owl, the symbol of wisdom...."

Rory smiles, a warmth spreading across his features as he nods. "I would second that," he says softly. "Owl, the silent predator of the night, soaring on broad wings across the sky. Ware the mouse who scuttles along the forest floor, for he will not hear the approach of the ever-seeing owl, nor feel anything but the sharp stab of her talons as she snatches him up, unawares. No place is foreign to Owl, and no secret safe from her eyes."

Rory glances back at Maximillian, grinning.. "Ye’re not too bad for a Stargazer, boyo. I think we could get along jus’ fine."

A burly man who looked the epitome of the Nordic warrior who later identified himself as Rahl looked at another of the circle who bore a strong family resemblance agreed. "I agree with Max about the totem. The owl. Stealthy, wise, and …deadly."

Gee returned his brother’s looks and nodded his head saying, "Owl is a powerful and mighty spirit that will watch over the pack from high on silent wings."

A tall Hispanic man shrugged. "Owl’s fine with me, gentlemen. At least we’re not going for Falcon." Francisco Dellmore had a thin face and unkempt black hair. He wore a torn leather jacket and could be called mildly handsome. He seemed fairly at ease with this group of strangers, looking around to see what the pack’s next move will be.

Finally, the Black Fury spoke. "Are we a Wisdom Pack, then? Riddle solvers and silver talkers? With all the Theurges, it seems we must be. Yet I must long for the passion of War, and long to race against the enemy of Gaia, teeth bared and claws sharp.

"But if Wisdom we must choose, Owl is at least a hunter, and so I cannot object."

Stone Biter stood to one side, in her Homid form. She was tall and lean, her body muscular and athletic, the build of a warrior or a dancer. Her hair was long and black, hanging free and wild. Her eyes were a deep murky grey, like the sky before a great lightning storm. Her body was marked with the occasional scar where silver had bitten into her, but nothing to overly mark her appearance. She was considered attractive in a rough sort of way, of more appeal to the primitive, rather than the urbane. She was dressed in a pair of leather pants, hand crafted, and a simple brown vest worked with beads, feathers, and Celtic knot patterns. Around her neck she wore a leather cord, to which was attached a well polished black stone, with the image of an eye worked into it in white. A silken sheath had been woven over the stone, the diaphanous shroud failing to conceal the decoration overly much.

Rahl crouched in homid form on the outskirts of the circle. The expression on his face was obviously not one of happiness. He watched with seemingly little interest as his packmates conversed. He nodded his head as Stone Biter talked about fangs bared and attacking the enemies of Gaia. "Fat chance that will ever happen," he muttered to himself.

Hole Sniffer was a half-wolf, half Siberian husky with typical black, grey, and white markings and blue eyes. A leather thong dangled a medicine bag from her neck and a chain collar dangled lots of jingly doodads. "I like Owl, too," is all she said.

When it is clear that it is time for him to speak the Silver Fang stepped forward to address the pack. A thick Russian accent coloured his voice as he said, "I see we are all in agreement that Owl is a good totem; it is the noble hunter that on soft wings rules the night. It hangs in the sky illuminated by Luna and silently takes its due ... noble, warrior, and wise ... all things that we as Garou should be."

The Bone Gnawer apparently had nothing to say, for the pack broke apart, and indicated to Shadow’s Whisper that they were ready to proceed. Shadow’s Whisper nodded and opened a small leather pouch on her belt. Drawing out a couple of fingerfuls of a dark brown powder, she spat into her hand and mixed it into the powder until the whole infusion became a thick paste. Walking to each of the pack members, she pressed a small amount of the infusion onto their eyelids. As she finished with the last of them, she drew out a small mirror and held it in front of her.

"Step sideways, between this world and the next, and wait for me in the shadow of the earth." One by one, the Pack members stepped forward and gazed into the mirror. Slowly, each of them was drawn towards it, and just as the point of contact, the air rippled like a pond surface struck with a small stone. The ripples widened as each Garou passed through the looking glass and vanished from view.

As the last one pass through, Shadow’s Whisper turned the mirror around and slipped into the Umbra herself. The pack waited in no set order or position, much like a pack of wolves, and some had even taken lupine form. Moving in front of the pack, she raised her arms up to the Umbral sky, and began chanting in a language none of the assembled had ever heard before.

Soon, shadows deepened and the temperature lowered around the Pack, and a Presence appeared. To vast to comprehend, each of the garou assembled had the feeling of feathers pressed gently around them, and the impression that a Great Intelligence was measuring them, judging them according to their worth. Looking around, the pack was surprised to see that the trees around them were filled with owls. From the monstrous Great Horned Owl of the American Northwest to the tiny Cactus Owl that lived in the deserts of the Southwest, all manner of owls were present, even the great Willawau, with its twenty-foot wingspan.

Shadow’s Whisper stepped forward and addressed the owls. "Great Owl, we have come before you in accordance with the pact of spirits, formed long ago between the Garou and the spirits of Gaia. We have a pack, young and inexperienced, but worthy and willing, eager to do Gaia’s work. They have asked to bind their destinies with yours. To grow in esteem as you grow in the eyes of the other spirits, and to increase your renown with the glory, honour, and wisdom of their deeds. They come asking to be known as your children."

The measuring presence returned, passing over each of the Pack again, more slowly than before. Slowly, a small owl at the base of a tree began to glow softly. Opening its beak, the Owl spoke, but it was clear the owl spoke for its parent Spirit as well as itself. ::For me to serve you and for you to serve me, I ask for time to watch you. I will watch for a moon’s cycle. If you can prove that you are worthy, then I will serve.::

With that, the glow faded from the Owl, who was soon lost in the press of other like owls, and the Presence left with the impression of huge invisible wings.

Shadow’s Whisper turned back to the pack. "You have heard what Owl had to say," she said. "He will watch you for one lunar month, then decide if you are worthy to be called his children. You should act as such until that time, for if Owl does not believe you will pay him the appropriate homage, he will not serve you. Speaking with others of Owl’s Children, I know he typically requires his Children to leave small animal sacrifices in the form of vermin or rodents tied in place or caged for him to find. Follow these strictures, and you will surely have no problems in getting Owl to serve you.

"Now, we should return to the Tellurian. I believe Algeron has something for you to do."

As a group, the pack and Shadow’s Whisper pierced the Gauntlet once more, and emerged from the spot at which they left. Algeron stood waiting nearby, and a few of the Sept’s other Garou hung around in the background, listening in.

Shadow’s Whisper took her place at Algeron’s side, and addressed the pack again. "Who shall lead this pack?"

Before any of them could respond, Algeron spoke. "Illia Rapmanovitich will lead," he said, indicating the stunned Silver Fang. Noting challenges starting to rise up, he spoke quickly, forestalling any of them. "You will follow him for one lunar month. If by then, he has not proven worthy, you may challenge him for leadership then. For now, unless he proves to be of the Wyrm, if you challenge him, you challenge me." His eyes narrowed to hard points. "That would not be a wise decision."

Shadow’s Whisper looked at Algeron and nodded, saying, "As you wish." She looked back at you and said, "Under the eyes of Gaia, you are now a pack with bonds that are stronger than anything you may feel in your life. Trust in each other and Gaia will smile upon you. I believe Lord Algeron has a task for you. When you have completed it, return and let me know your pack’s name so it can be known to all in this protectorate and those outside."

Lord Algeron smiled and said, "Indeed, I do have a task for you." He handed a leather bound parcel, about the size of a large book to Ilia. "Take this book to Geoffrey Winters, at this address." He also handed over a slip of paper that had a Portland address on it. "Mr. Winters is a friend. Treat him accordingly." He nodded to the pack, and then turned his back and walked off.

Max again looked to the heavens and rumbled, "I sense that there is more to this ‘mission’ than meets the eye, but I have faith in both myself and in this pack. I am content to follow the Silver Fang. Until he has proven to be of the Wyrm or a faulty leader, he has my support and faith."

Rahl looked at his brother. "I don’t like this, but it looks like I don’t have much choice."

Francisco turns his steady gaze on Rory. "So you’re the Fianna Ahroun? You’re not as uptight as I thought. I like that. As for this mission, well, it sounds pretty straightforward to me. Whenever I want a book sent somewhere and I can’t be bothered posting it, I organise a nine strong Werewolf pack and send them off with it. After all, nine Garou on one book. You can’t go wrong.

"Just don’t expect me to carry it."

Stone Biter sat off to the side, in her homid form, watching the interplay between her packmates beginning. She still bristled a bit from the heavy handedness of the Silver Fang, but then, what can you expect from any male, let alone a Silver Fang male?

Rory roars with laughter at Secret-Sniffer’s words. "Well said, lad!" he strolls over and slaps the Hispanic Garou on the back. "An’ with a mouth and a name like yuir’s ye must be our resident Ragabash! Glad to have ye aboard. We all need someone to keep us laughin’ an’ there’s none suited better to it than a Ragabash." His voice suggested that they might be laughing at rather than with the Ragabash, but the effect was softened by the mirth in his eyes.

"And if ye’re half as good a scout as ye are a comedian, ye’ll be welcome at my pub table any time."

Rory was dressed in very plain clothes, simple jeans, and a black tee shirt with a well-worn jacket over his shoulders. Work boots that had seen some better days adorned his feet, and his auburn hair was capped by a woollen cap with a thick woollen ring around it, as if it could be rolled down further. Those in Lupus form detected a faint scent of fish on him, as well as the ground-in scent of lots of sweating bodies. Rory obviously spent a lot of time in a gym in these clothes. Oddly enough, he wasn’t very muscular for that, although his nose had been broken several times, and a few superficial scars decorated his face. Once he might have been called attractive. Now he was little better than average.

Hole Sniffer stayed in her own form and dropped her jaw in a friendly fashion. She spoke in the language of the Garou that all understood. "I do not understand how we can find honour giving a book to a friend of the Sept Leader. Perhaps it is a joke?" She curled her tail under to go sniff at Illia the Silver Fang.

Francisco looked over at Rory with half closed eyes. His tone dripped sarcasm as he replied. "Yeah, big boy, I’m the resident comedian. My purpose in the pack is to make you all laugh. Oh, and for the pack leader to beat up on to prove his authority, if he feels the need. And incidentally, I am as good a scout as I am a comedian, so luckily for me, I’ll be welcome at your pub table any time. Hooray."

Francisco turned away from Rory and looked over the rest of the pack critically, still waiting for the leader to make a move.

Gee stood apart from everyone else, watching, examining everyone. He looked at the Silver Fang leader with obvious spite in his glowering gaze before finally turning away to sit on the ground.

Simon Leeds walked over to Maximillian with an expression of surprise on his face. "What more would there be to a mail delivery mission?" he asked. "Anyway, if there is some creature out there, the odds are nine to one, so I wouldn’t think it would last too long. I very much doubt your words, but then you are a Stargazer. I wouldn’t get too harsh with you but still I have no doubt in the easiness of this mission." He spoke his words in a rush, as though they had been building up for some time and suddenly burst free.

Max gazed steadily at the smaller man, unblinking, for a long moment before replying. "I do not expect those not of my tribe to understand the words I hear from the wind, but they tell me that there is indeed great danger to be faced." He smiled grimly. "A little caution would not be an undue commodity. And there are indeed greater dangers out there than a pack of Garou, little one. Threats both physical, mental, spiritual and emotional."

Illia looked a confusing mixture of proud and shocked to be named Pack Alpha. He had only been at this sept for a short time and now he had his own pack. When the announcement came down from the Lord he saw the looks he got – mixed with hate and anger. He had his path laid out for him and it was going to be hard gaining their trust and friendship, but it was in his blood to lead. And lead he would.

As the others said their pieces, Illia listened, watched and observed; it was a wise leader who listened to his troops. When it is clear that it is time for him to speak again he stepped forward and spoke again in his thick Russian accent, turning the package over in his hands. "It seems we have been given a mission. Some may not think it is a worthy one but it is a mission just the same, and even the minor missions deserve to be completed.

"Since it is evening I say we rest tonight and set out in the morning. This will give us time to become acquainted with one another and for us to get used to being a pack. I know many of you may not be thrilled with another Fang in command but I hope to prove myself to you. I know words are hollow and my deeds will speak volumes so at least give me the courtesy of allowing myself to earn your trust." Pausing to gauge the pack’s reactions, he pressed on. "Let us see to food – it is dinner time and you should all be hungry. We should eat for we need our strength in the coming days." Setting his actions to his words, Illia went off in search of food.

Simon Leeds, the Bone Gnawer of the newly formed pack was listening to his packmates for a long time. He stared and studied each of them cautiously. He finally rose from the ground and walked over to Illia. "Right, you’re the leader, so where is this Geoffrey Winters? I want to get this job over with and get on to a more challenging one, so this better be short." Simon was a large man with long, pony-tailed hair, wearing a large, dirty trench coat and ripped jeans. He kept his left arm tucked into his coat.

Francisco raised an eyebrow as Illia delivers his commands. "An inspired move, commander," he said. "What’s on offer in the big Sept stew pot for a newly formed pack?"

Francisco glanced over at the rest of the pack, his thin lips moving as he considered his new packmates. Stone Biter seemed to be your average Black Fury, another rabid feminist in furs. The two Get of Fenris both seemed like they could hold their own, best not to be tangled with. The Fianna, Rory, was a little too wordy for an Ahroun, and Francisco didn’t doubt it’d get him in trouble.

Hole Sniffer, the Child of Gaia, seemed nice enough, for a lupus. The Stargazer looked and acted as if he were totally stoned, and Francisco reserved judgement. The Bone Gnawer looked like another paranoid city dweller, anxious to prove he was as tough as he thought he was.

The Fang, however, was a different manner. Francisco privately wondered how he was jumped straight to Alpha position. "Was it just cause you’re a Fang," he murmured to himself, "or did you do some favours for Algeron?" He sighed, smoothing his long hair back from his face. Silver Fangs look like just another clique of rich white boys from where he was standing. It would be better to keep an eye on him.

Stone Biter watched the retreating back of their new Alpha, her expression thoughtful. She idly fingered the medallion she wore as she leaned against the rough surface of a tree. He seemed unlike her prior Alpha, who had also been male. But the other had been honourable, and accepted both victory and defeat with courage and humility. She wondered if this one would do as well. She turned to gaze at her new pack. So many personalities to sort through, so many scents to learn, it would take time to sort out who would rise in the hierarchy, and who would keep their tail down, who would lead and who would follow. She grinned at the two Gets. Only two of them, to one Black Fury. They’d have to work hard to keep up, she thought with a grin.

"Well, food is the first order of business, so I shall seek it as well. The wisdom of our Alpha’s words sing true to the hearts of us all, I’m sure. I smell a stew, and it reminds me I’m hungry." With that, she headed off after their leader.

The pack moved out to hunt and was able to find a small group of deer that provided enough for the group to eat, though not all of them preferred to eat wild food. As some of the pack went to try for their meat on the hoof Illia deemed that it would be a good Alpha thing to do to lead the hunt. So in fluid flowing motions he shifted to Lupus and led the chase. It felt good to run through the darkness and take down a healthy animal. It was truly Darwinism at the highest form: he was a hunter and the deer was his prey. Once the thrill of the kill wore off, he looked around and saw Simon trying to bag a rabbit and his heart went out to his new pack mate. He grabbed hold of the carcass in his powerful jaws and dragged it over to him and let him share in the kill. That was how it should be – sharing with one’s pack mates. That night he sat most of the night pondering the moon, and thinking about how far from home he was: the forests of Siberia were such a long way away.

Rory joined in the hunt, taking an obvious pleasure in being in his Lupus form. He didn’t exactly distinguish himself in the hunt, but he threw himself whole-heartedly into the kill, and equally into giving thanks to the spirit of the deer for providing food for the pack. Following the hunt, Nightfire left the group briefly, following the scent of water until he came to the shore of Sebago Lake. What he was doing there he really had no idea, but it felt like something that he needed to do, so he did it. Bending his head down, he first sniffed the water, then drank deeply. When he’d had his fill, he lay down by the shore and watches the moonlight play over the water, for as long as felt right.

Some hours later, he rose, and headed back toward the caern. Seeing as how the night was going to be freezing cold, he opted to stay in Lupus form for the remainder of the night.

Rahl enjoyed the hunt. The smell of the cold, the thrill of the chase, the feel of triumph as the deer fell to the ground, and the feel of food in his stomach. With food in his stomach he was in a slightly better mood as he made his way back to camp. Rahl tried to get to know everyone better before he retired for the night, although due to the late hour was not very successful. He stayed in his lupus form talking in the garou language.

Simon decided to go and hunt some dinner and shifted into Lupus. He was slower than the others because of his withered left arm, causing him to limp. The other pack members were too fast for him, but Simon followed and attempted to catch something, but because of his arm, he was not quick enough to leap out for the rabbit. He shared in the others' catches though and satisfied his appetite.

The sept provided more civilised fare for those who do not wish to have to tackle their food. The pack largely stayed up into the small hours of the morning, learning more about each other and where they each came from. All in all, it was a quiet night in the caern.

Hole Sniffer wasn't the best of hunters and opted to shift to human form for stew. Hole sniffer's human form looked tall, skinny and flat-chested. But her face was pretty, with fair skin and very black, waist-length feathery hair. Her eyes were light blue with dark rings in the iris. They were gentle and friendly, but penetrating. She wore a flannel shirt, her two necklaces underneath it. A pair of old jeans and running shoes completed the outfit.

Having shown her submission to the Pack leader (who had stood lordly and tall talking while she sniffed at his legs) she decided to sit next Stone Biter. She lowered her head a bit and leaned over to smile at her.

"My human name is Ruth! Do you have a human name? I used to live with humans in a house, and that is what they called me. It’s from a book. Humans put everything they know in books. We’ll have to look in books to find Geoffrey Winters. Do you think Serves With Faith is right, that there’ll be a monster in our way? Why is your name Stone Biter?" the young lupus asked in a flurry of questions.

Stone Biter considered the homid. She was clearly a submissive type, not one who would ever choose to lead. That was as it should be. A Pack with too many aggressive Alpha types would soon fall to contention. A Child of Gaia? She smiled. One who would offer calmness and wisdom would be useful with such contentious types and as she and the Gets around.

"I have no humans name, and I have never lived in a human place, nor do I wish to do so. I do not know if we can find Winters in a book, but I am sure our Alpha will decide how best to go about the task. I am called Stone Biter because when I was first learning to hunt, I leapt at a rabbit, which turned out instead to be a rock. I was named to remind of that painful lesson in patience," she says with a self-depreciating chuckle.

Francisco declined to go on the hunt, not wanting to make a fool of himself by chasing after the lupus professionals. Instead, he got some stew from the caern pot, and sat down near Hole Sniffer and Stone Biter.

He listens in to Hole Sniffer’s bubbly chatter, the strange accent of wolves who’ve learned human speech late in life, and then Stone Biter’s response. When she told of how she got her name, Francisco laughed out loud.

"You bit a stone!" he laughed. "God, that’s hilarious. That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in well, ever! God, you bit a stone!" Suddenly he sobers up, a dark smirk still on his face. "That’s a prime example of lupus humour, is it? No wonder you guys never laugh. That’s about as funny as silver buckshot in the teeth."

Francisco took another spoonful of soup, grimacing. "Bland as hell, this. They could at least put some spices in or something." He chewed it for a while, watching the two women. Suddenly he said, "What do you think of Illia?" He watched Stone Biter carefully as he spoke. "I mean, I know a pack has to have a leader, I just always thought they should prove themselves before they take our lives in their hands, you know what I mean? Not that I don’t trust the guy, it’s just that he’s a Fang, and with a Fang, ego tends to come first and pack second. Don’t you think?"

Francisco glanced over to the fire that Lord Algeron sat around and chewed another spoonful of stew. He spoke without looking at Stone Biter and Hole Sniffer. "Of course, you can’t generalise too much. I mean, I might say that just because you’re a Black Fury you’re going to jump the Gets first chance you get. And just because you’re a Child of Gaia, you’re going to burst into tears first time a bane opens its mouth. But that might not be true. Guess we'll have to wait a month and see how you all do."

Ruth smiled, a little apologetically. "It is funny. I thought ‘Stone Biter’ meant your jaws were strong enough to bite into stone. ‘Hole Sniffer’ is because, as a cub, I was too curious and always sticking my nose somewhere it shouldn’t be. I might have been ‘Burnt Nose’ or ‘Bitten Nose.’"

Ruth hesitated and reflexively tried to twitch her ears. It didn’t work. Despite Ruth’s submissive nature, every toady prefers a strong leader to rely on. Swallowing her disloyal worries, she said quietly, "I do not know the Fangs to know this. Illia has acted thoughtfully and strongly so far. And," her black-rimmed eyes caught the Ragabash’s for a moment, "all of us have already proven ourselves in the Rites of Passage."

Stone Biter gave the Uktena a level look, and said, "It is a name, not a joke."

Stone Biter shook her head. "Algeron said we only have to wait a month before we challenge him. That doesn’t mean we can’t make him prove himself now. I for one will be very curious to see how our Silver Fang leader accords himself during this mission. I will follow his orders, but I am going to keep an eye on him as well."

05 January 2010, 8:00 AM

The pack woke to a cold morning. The morning air was a brisk 20° Fahrenheit and a fine coat of frost covered everything as far as the eye could see. Even inside the tents, the air was chilled enough that the occupants could see their breath puffing before them. As the pack assembled for their mission, Algeron stopped by on a morning run. "We have two vehicles you may use to carry you into town," he said, tossing the keys to the nearest of the Pack. Ruth caught the small missile, and looked at the ring of keys in a very confused manor. With a glint in her eye, she started walking purposefully to where the vehicles were located. She got all of about six steps before a quick hand plucked the keys from her grasp.

"No ye don’t, lassie," Rory said, grinning. "I’ve seen that look before. Ye’re not goin’ anywhere near those cars with keys until ye’ve learned t’ drive." Fingering the keys in his hand, Rory determined that the larger set belonged to a suburban van about twenty years old, and the second set to a station wagon about five years older than that. Taking the keys to the suburban, he held up the others and asked, "Who wants to drive th’ wagon?" After a brief pause where nobody stepped forward, Francisco sighed and raised a hand. Mutteringly lowly about joining some flea-bitten ragbag outfit that wouldn’t know its head from its arse without directions, the Ragabash took the proffered set of keys.

As the pack split up and began to enter the vehicles, Simon caught Illia’s eye and pulled him aside. "If you don’t mind, Illia," he said quickly, looking around to see if anyone else was in hearing distance, "I’ll travel in lupus today. I had some trouble with the police, you know, and I don’t want them to recognise me."

Illia nodded and placed his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder, saying, "You do what you have to, Simon. I don’t think we’ll run into a policemen this time around, but if it will make you feel any better, you go right ahead. We’ll look after you from now on, though."

Illia slid into the passenger seat next to Rory as the pack pulled out. He was quiet for most of the trip, occasionally turning the package over in his hands. What were the lives of so many Garou worth, that Algeron would send nine of Gaia’s warriors to deliver it safely. And what possessed him to choose so many of the Sept’s Garou who hated him? There were at least three other Silver Fangs he could have chosen instead of this bunch, who looked ready to throat him at a moment’s notice. Algeron had told him that leading this pack would improve the name of his tribe, and instructed him to feel out how easily the other tribes would be led. If this was any indication, then the other Garou would not bend knee to the Silver Fangs easily. While he was proud of his pack’s spirit, he certainly wished it had been directed elsewhere.

Nearly two hours later, the two vehicles pulled up outside the address marked on Illia’s piece of paper. It was in a well maintained area of Portland, with manicured lawns and pristinely painted houses. A few people were out jogging along the footpath, but the chill in the January air kept all but the most fanatic of fitness enthusiasts indoors. A couple of doors down from their target’s house, an elderly woman frowned and hovered around to watch as she picked up her morning paper.

Illia got out of the suburban still thinking. What did that woman make of two carloads of thugs in her white-bread neighbourhood. Rory was the next one out of the van, and he waved at the woman with a smile on his face as he opened the side door to let the others out. It might not make the woman smile or wave back, but it should at least make her start second-guessing her any suspicions she had. Francisco and those others who had ridden in the station wagon soon joined them.

As Rahl got out of the van, he suddenly bent over and nearly emptied the contents of his stomach. "This thing is called a car?" he asked in a shaky whisper. "Do they always do that?"

Rory appeared agitated, and he frequently looked in Illia’s direction, apparently waiting for him to take the first move. Those surrounding him heard him counting down, "Thirty one … to go. Thirty one." Glancing down at Rahl, the Fianna grinned sardonically. "Don't worry, lad. Ye’ll get used to it. I don't like ‘em any more’n you do, but somebody wanted to drive." Rory shrugged, then turned to wait for Illia.

Francisco looked about the lawn. "Tidy bit of real estate, this," he murmured to himself. He looked over at Maximillian, and tied back his long black hair into a ponytail.

"Yo Starboy," he said quietly. "You let us know if you’re getting any bad vibes, alright? I don’t trust Algeron, I don’t trust this book, I frankly don’t trust Mr Alpha Rapmanovitch and I don’t trust anyone who lives in the suburbs, so this whole thing reeks of bad news to me. Just keep your nose out, eh?"

Francisco turned and glanced around the sunny street, straightening his jacket. "Nine vagrants rolling out on the lawn deep in suburbia. Portland’s really gone downhill, hasn’t it?" He stood back and waited for Illia to make his move.

Ruth stood looking around with a faint smile, trying to not pant. She waited for one of the others to go to the door. In the meantime, she spotted a tree by the curb. She ambled over and put her face to the bark, sniffing.

Simon, in his lupus form, jumped out awkwardly and sniffed around the lawn.

Finally, Rory spoke up. "Moon Shadow, I don’t like this place. Let’s simply deliver the package and go." Alternately, he tensed his fingers, forming them into claw-shapes, and relaxed, seemingly unaware he was doing so.

Suddenly snapped out of his private daze Illia said, "Ah, yes. Sorry, I was pondering what that woman must think of us." Gathering himself, he looked one last time at the package in his hands. "Well, let us deliver this parcel and then get us out of this place," he spat. Being raised in the forests he always felt uncomfortable in the rabbit warren of human kind.

Illia signalled the others to follow as he crossed to the house. As he walked across the street to the house he nodded to the watching lady and then made his way to the door. As he drew closer to the house he went on guard for anything. He shifted to Glabro in case there was any danger, although due to his leather coat, the increased mass could be dismissed as a trick of the light.

Illia hesitated a little at the door looking for danger, then rang the doorbell. About two minutes later a lady answered the door. She stood about five feet, four inches tall, with brown hair touched by a little bit of grey, and brown eyes. She was dressed in a grey sweatshirt and blue jeans, with an apron wrapped around her waist and a broom firmly in hand. Seeing the group standing at the door, she smiled a little bit nervously and asked, "Can I help you?"

Stone Biter stood back, waiting for the Alpha to speak to the woman. In the meantime, she reached inside herself and touched the wellspring of Gaia that existed within all Garou. Drawing upon the power contained within, she amplified her senses until the sharp cleaning smells in the woman’s cleaning products stung her nose.

As the door swung inward, Illia took in the woman stood before him. She seemed a little taken back by the appearance of nine people on her doorstep at quarter to ten in the morning. It might be better to talk fast before she got too nervous. Illia put a smile on his face and said in a pleasant voice, "Why hello there, Madame, my name is Illia Rapmanovitich. Please excuse this intrusion at this early hour but is a Mr Winters at home? I was given a gift for him by Algeron and I was wondering if I could give it to him."

Ruth turned to look with the others, craning her neck to get a look at the woman. She smiled brightly, to reassure her.

Rory, noticing the woman’s nervousness, tapped Illia on the shoulder. "May I?" he asked in his distinctive lilt.

Seeing that the Fianna might have a better time at lying than a back woods Russian Illia stepped to the side with a smile. He too had the gift of persuasion but he would let Rory do the fast talking.

"Ye see, madam," the Irishman said, smiling and thinking quickly. He shaped his speech patterns the way his Ancestor spirits had taught him to imbue his words with a sense of credibility. "We’re from Eagle’s Eye Enterprises, and Mr. Winters is an old friend of our CEO, Mr. Algeron. When Mr. Algeron learned Mr. Winters resided in the area, he asked those of us in the department to come down when we had a chance to return a book. I understand he borrowed it some years ago."

Noticing the woman taking in their somewhat dishevelled appearances, he added, "We would be more dressed for the occasion, but we were off to play paintball when I recognised the street name, and thought if Mr. Winters was in, we could drop off the book, rather than makin’ two trips."

Rahl, standing towards the back of the pack on the doorstep, turned and looked at Francisco. "What’s paintball or all that he just said mean for that matter?" he asked in a low whisper.

The woman smiled at Illia and Rory nervously as the rest of the pack waited. "I’m just the cleaning lady," she said. "Mr. Winters left for some meetings about an hour ago. I would expect he would be back sometime this evening."

Rory smiled and nodded. "Aye, thank ye very much, madam. If ye could simply inform Mr. Winter that a party from Eagle’s Eye Enterprises stopped by to deliver a package from Mr. Algeron, we’d appreciate it. I apologise for takin’ up some of yuir time." Turning towards Illia, he continued. "Guess we’d better be going, then. We’ll have to stop by on the way back." With that, Rory turned and headed back toward the car, his head full of musings. Perhaps this Silver Fang was competent to lead them. One who recognised a pack member’s strengths, and wasn’t afraid or too egotistical to step back and let them handle situations that called for them. Only time would tell, though. Anyone could lead and anyone good could know when to step down. It remained to see, however, how well this ‘Fang would take a challenge. He wondered from whom it would come first.

Stone Biter watched Rory heading for the car, but didn’t move. Illia was letting the Fianna give orders, and Stone Biter waited to se how the Fang would handle him. It would obviously be the first test of his leadership ability, in her mind.

Illia gave a half-bow "Thank you for your time, dear lady, and again I am sorry to have bothered you. You have a very nice day now." With that, he turned on his heels. "Alright my compatriots lets us get our behinds off of this nice lady’s lawn and get down to a mean game of paintball." He started to head to the vehicle he came in and slid in next to Rory before turning to see when everyone was in the other car too.

Once the whole pack had returned to their mode of conveyance he turned to Rory. "Ok lets drive so we can get out of this white bread neighbourhood. We have already drawn enough attention to ourselves. And by the way Rory, good job back there. You did well coming up with that story on the fly like that. Maybe once you get that ember that is burning in your stomach for me worked out we could actually be friends." As the pack pulled away, he started thinking of what to do next. They had an entire day to kill.

Ruth looked at Rahl. "Paintball?" She climbed back in the car to see where their fearless leader was taking them.

The newly formed pack spent the majority of the day wandering around Portland, with the lupus members of the pack staying near the more city-experienced homid members. Rory visited each of the pubs around the city, getting a feel for the residents, who seemed to be reservedly friendly, much like any permanent resident of a town greeting one of a horde of tourists. In particular, two pubs seemed to be doing well: Granny Killigan’s and Three Dollar Dewey’s. There wasn’t really enough time to delve into why, however.

The area known as Old Port had a heavy industrial smell. Bath Iron Works, one of the major employers in the area, had a ship building facility which was the source of most of the odour. Small shops filled most of Old Port, ranging from artist studios, small bookstores, little food stores, and small software start-up companies. Old Port seemed to attract slightly off the main stream type of businesses, although some major corporations had offices there.

Almost littered about the place were flier in bright, vivid colours. Picking one up, the pack read through it, reserving their opinions for themselves. The flier read:

After a while, the pack had seen most of what they wanted to see, and some of them sat down in the park and began to read a discarded newspaper.

Illia wanted to investigate the Bone Gnawer and Glass Walker activity in the area, but although the pack constantly felt the pressure of watching eyes, they were no appearances.

As evening approached, the Pack made its way back to the vehicles, and from there, back to Geoffrey Winters’ house. Lights were on in the house, and the porch light was lit and very inviting. Illia knocked on the door and an older gentleman, maybe 55-60 years of age, answered the door. He stood about 6’0" tall and his hair was mostly grey, although few black streaks gave dignity to the look. He was dressed in nice khakis and a plain white shirt. Classical music floated out from the depths of the house, and the faint scent of cinnamon teased the nose. The gentleman looked over the pack quickly, and although his gaze seemed not to rest on each member for more than a few seconds, each Garou felt as if his soul had just been examined. He smiled and said in a matter-of-fact manner, "You must be from Eagle Eye Enterprises. Please do come in. I was about to have some dinner. Would you be interested in dining with me?" Winters gestured for the group to come in out of the cold.

"No," Ruth answered honestly, before she remembered. At his invitation, she looked delighted and began to bounce on her toes lightly. She looked longingly at Illia.

At the appearance of the older gentleman Illia was filled with mixed feelings. On the one hand, It seemed too easy that this would really be the man they were to give the book to, but on the other hand, he wanted to just hand over the book, set aside the responsibility and agree to a nice meal. While he was thinking Rory motioned to him. He smiled to Mr Winters and excused himself for a minute.

As the pair moved off out of earshot, Maximillian locked eyes with the gentleman at the door, and adjusted his monastic robes about his muscular frame. Stone Biter kept looking about, as if she expected an ambush, but at the same time really hoped there wasn’t one.

As the man stepped out, Gee took in his appearance, but felt at a disadvantage as the old man seemed to know much more about him than he did of the old man. While he listened to the conversation he hoped that Illia declined the offer, but he seemed to know that the old man would not take no for an answer.

As he moved off, Rory glanced back at Winters, his heart filled with conflicting desires, much the same as the rest of the pack: firstly, the desire to be done with this, and to head back to the Sept, and secondly, the desire to be well fed, and find out more about where he was. Finally, he decided.

Taking the Silver Fang far enough away that humans would not overhear, he spoke, quickly and softly. "I think we’d better deliver the book, but decline dinner," – he looked as if he wanted to add "Sir," behind it, but stopped. "Number one, we’ve been away all day, and we’d better get back to report the delivery to Algeron. Plus, this is a ‘white-bread neighbourhood’ and frankly, we have several people with us who’d have table manners better suited to a truck stop. Besides," he added, "I’m itchin’ to feel a cleaner Gaia beneath my feet."

Illia bowed his head while he talked with Rory so that his words wouldn’t carry as much, "I understand your desire to leave this place. But, I have a deep feeling that something might be not right. How do we know if this is Mr. Winters? I can’t explain it but any way I think we should agree to the dinner but also be on guard. I mean it can’t hurt if he is the real guy, and if he isn’t then we rip out his throat and carry on. But above all, Lord Algeron said he was a friend and to treat him as such. So would it not be rude to turn him down on his offer. So let us partake his food but, be wary"

Returning to the door, Illia turned to a very puzzled Winters and said, "Why thank you, kind sir. If you have enough, me and my compatriots would love to join you at your table."

Winters smiled and motioned them all in. The entry room was quite cosy and smelled very nice. Thick cream carpet piled up on the floors, and the walls were almost completely lined with bookshelves. There was a wide variety of topics, and the books seemed to be sorted by topic. There were history books, biographies, and documentaries. They were all hard covered and some looked fairly old, in the 100 year range. It was obvious just from this room that Mr. Winters didn’t have many financial problems. A fire crackled in the fire place warmed the cosy room. The pack was somewhat shocked by one particular mantelpiece In a very well designed case, there lay what seemed to be a simple klaive.

"Please, do make yourself at home," Winters said. "I will set some extra plates for you all. Unless, any of you don’t want plates or utensils. I know that there are some in your ‘company’ that can take them or leave them."

Illia fell silent as he entered the house as he was still slightly uneasy around such nice things. Having grown up in the shadow of the Soviet demise he was not used to such nice things. Truth be told he was from a poor family. That was the contradiction with in himself: he was a Silver Fang, born to rule the Garou, and yet he was from the wrong side of the tracks. A poor back woods Russian yet his blood said he was noble, a joke in flesh. He found himself by the Klaive, and as he gazed at the blade he held back the urge to reach out and grab it. One day he too would have one. It seemed such a waste for a human to have such a great blade when many noble Garou had none. But he was not in the practice of taking what was not his. One day, ran the mantra through his head.

Stone Biter sniffed around the area, her senses wolf-sharp despite her homid form, due to her Gift of Heightened Senses. She noticed the klaive, and her eyes widened a bit. She walked over to get a closer look at the weapon and see if any Tribal markings could be seen on the device. She could see a few glyphs, including the umbra gift and one of wind. She couldn’t tell exactly, but she thought there was the Silver Fang glyph as well.

Rahl looked around the place and noticed the well furnished bookshelf, but gives up on trying to make out what the words said. He watched the others and tried to emulate them to cover his unease with his surroundings. Mr. Winters seemed nice enough so Rahl decided to give up and just get comfortable. Spying a wonderful looking couch, he walked over and plopped down on the pillowy cushion, which sank with his weight. He wondered if he was supposed to sit there, but made no move to get up.

Gee walked in slowly, but cautiously. His eyes opened wide when he saw the klaive, and he wanted to ask Mr. Winters where he came by it, but stifled his questions and went over to look.

Max trailed behind the rest of the pack, sniffing. After a short time, he stopped. He turned towards their host and smiled. "Good evening to you, noble sir. ‘Tis a wonderful house you have here, and, on behalf of myself and my friends," Max gestured to all those assembled nearby, "we wish to thank you for your hospitality. Dinner certainly smells delicious!"

Winters smiled at the Stargazer from the dining room, "Thank you. I am afraid I can not take the credit. My cleaning lady, Amilia, actually made it. I am just watching the pot so that it doesn’t burn. I will let her know your opinion."

Max made his best effort and smiled at their new acquaintance. "And, of course, I have been remiss in not introducing myself earlier. I am Maximillian Clendenning, and I am at your service.…" Max inclined his head slightly towards the older man.

"Not at all. If any one was remiss, it is I. I’m Geoffrey Winters. My friends just call me Geoffrey. It is a pleasure to meet you all."

As the rest of the pack got comfortable and wondered about the klaive, Ruth piped up, "I like plates!" She smiled, then followed Stone Biter over to look at the klaive. Her interest was strictly casual, since Ruth still had trouble using tools with her hands. She snuffled at the case companionably with the Black Fury, but was distracted by the smell of food. Humans always kept the best food for themselves, Ruth thought. She wandered over in the direction of the enticing smells. As she passed, she said, "With all these books, you must know something about almost everything!"

Geoffrey looked at Ruth and said, "I wish that were true," and shook his head a little. "There is much going on in my life and I don’t have as much time to enjoy the simple pleasures such as reading as much as I did when I was younger." He looked away somewhat wistfully and continued, more to himself than to anyone else, "It seems much of what I know today is stuff of nightmares and bad thoughts. The world has changed much since I was a boy."

Ruth stopped and looked back at the old human. She thought she understood what he meant and it made her sad. Poor human. He needed a dog. Or something.

Rory grinned as Mr Winters danced around words. His eyes widened slightly as he spotted the klaive, but refrained from moving towards it. If the entire pack went over to stare, it would leave a lot of backs exposed. One of the first things he learned in the IRA was to always have a point man. Instead, he made a mental note to ask Stone Biter what she saw in the way of markings. His sept leaders back home always told him that the Fianna made the most and the best klaives, but unfortunately, a lot of them were lost in the Fomori Wars.

"Mr Algeron said you were a friend, Mr Winters," he said, looking in the direction of the klaive, "but tha’ says a lot more than friend t’ me. Are ye family, then?" While he spoke, Rory dusted down his jacket, and leaned against the doorjamb.

Winters snapped up from his moment of fog and said, "Well, in a long round about way. No, I am not kin or of your kind. I am what your kind call mages. I met Algeron’s grandfather, Lord Readon, in what you call the deep umbra. I was on a quest to advance in my order. Readon was surround by 30 blood vespers. Although Vespers are pretty weak on their own, they aren’t usually encountered on their own. The others from Readon’s pack were dead. Who knows how many vespers there had been. At first, being young and unaware of all other supernatural beings, I held back from the fray, not wanting to be attacked myself. Then Readon’s eyes caught mine. He said nothing, he cried not for help, but when those eyes locked with mine, I knew that I must help. So I did. It was an ugly battle and it took me about three months to recover from it. When I had, Readon visited me and presented me with the klaive for helping him. He told me that if I ever needed help, to use the klaive and one of his family would come. Since then, Readon’s family and I have kept in contact and helped each other. They take the duty that comes with the klaive very seriously. I don’t keep tabs though and even when I have been in dire straits, I’ve never used the klaive. However, I am humbled by what it represents."

Illia perked up as he had heard the name Readon in his upbringing. Whatever questions burned within his mind, however, he kept to himself. Looking at Winters he could see that he was a man that had probably learned a few of life’s lessons the hard way, even though the house seemed to indicated that he never wanted for much. There was a weariness to his face behind the smile and good nature.

Stone Biter caught a harsh smell in her nose, and a few scant seconds later, Winter sniffed the air and his eyes grew wide. "Uh -oh, I think the pot is burning."

He moved away into the kitchen and soon returned with a pan in hand. Winters hustled back and forth bringing in various foodstuffs, including some steaming bread rolls that smelled wonderful. More than a few stomachs rumbled in anticipation around the lounge and dining rooms. Winter said, "I can’t guarantee anything now, but dinner is ready. Would you all like something to drink?"

Illia moved to the table and took a seat next to Ruth. He seemed drawn to this mild garou who was innocent and yet so curious. There was so much he did not know about all of his new companions. "Ahh I will take just water, thank you."

Rahl took the seat on the other side of Illia and ordered water as well, hoping to emulate the Silver Fang’s eating habits. He soon became frustrated with the complex tools and threw them down on the table, grabbing at the food with his hands. Winters didn’t seem to mind all that much.

Stone Biter walked away from the display case, glancing around the room, her nostrils flaring a bit at the door of slightly burned food. She sat at the table, clearly unfamiliar with the utensils, which she fingered hesitantly.

Rory piped up with "Guiness, if ye have any," and took his seat at the table, neither facing the door, nor turned away from it. Ever since a little boy he had sat this way. He tried telling himself that it just made sense to sit that way, but could never bring himself to believe it.

Ruth’s table manners were clumsy. She used utensils like a Viking and picked up her glass with two hands. Fortunately, she was a courteous a clean person by nature, and wiped up the spillage that inevitably happened. Although she rather liked the sad old human, it did seem as if the Stargazer’s warnings had been wrong. This mission would end as uneventfully as it began.

As he started to eat, Rory spared a sympathetic glance for Stone Biter, but said nothing. All Lupus would have to learn to disguise themselves in human company somehow, and there was no better teacher than experience. Better she learn here, where a mistake would be overlooked, rather than learn elsewhere when a mistake might kill her or all of them.

Stone Biter fumbled for a few moments with the unfamiliar tools, then realised without practice she would only look the fool. Curling her lips back in a silent snarl, she set aside the offending instruments, and began to eat with the fingers Gaia had provided for such tasks.

Illia noticed Stone Biter’s plight and looked at his own gruff table manners. Even homids were not always experts in the art of dining. He leaned over to the lupus to say, "Do not get angry at them. Think of them like extensions of your claws. It is not a fight between you and your food but it will take practice. If it is something you would like to learn I can help if you would like – though I must admit I am not an expert myself. But hey, it is what ever gets the food to your mouth right?"

Stone Biter glances up at him, her expression wary. Then she gives him a slight nod. "I will remember your offer." she said simply.

Winters smiled and said, "Please, do not worry about using the utensils. I completely understand that some of your kind are not accustomed to human ways. If it is easier, by all means eat with your hands."

Ruth smiled brilliantly at the appearance of the food. "Oh yes!" she cried as she sat down and grabbed a roll. She licked it before taking a bite. "You are a mage, like Merlin? Bewitched? Why would Lord Algeron send you a book when you have so many you don’t have time to read them?" she asked curiously.

Rory felt his hackles rise, or he would have if he were in lupus form. A growl rose in his throat, but he forced it down and acted like it came from his stomach. The man was being hospitable, and therefore, so would he. It would be hard to break bread with a despoiler of Gaia, though. As the story of his and Algeron’s meeting unfolded, though, Rory began to relax a bit. Winter may be a mage, but he was also apparently a man of integrity. Algeron, on the other hand, had a few screws loose. Klaives were not so common that they could be parceled out to anyone – they were desperately needed in the hands of Garou.

As Ruth spoke, Rory arched an eyebrow. The Child of Gaia was proving very insightful. Her question, asked in such innocence, was entirely valid. Why would Algeron send a book to a mage, even on to whom his family owed a life-debt to? He resolved to listen very closely to Winter’s response.

Winters chuckled and said, "No, not exactly like that, but I suppose that is an easy enough analogy. And actually, Algeron is returning the book. I let him borrow it."

Abruptly something else about Winter's story dawned on Rory. This man had saved Algeron's Grandfather! Cautiously, he asked, "Just how old are ye, Mr Winter, if ye don’t mind my askin’?"

Winter chuckled and said, "I was born in 1915, so that would make me about 95. And don’t worry, young man, some of us mages realise that there is more to the world than meets the eyes. I have learned much from my association with Algeron’s family. Readon actually taught me alternative methods to gaining the power that you call gnosis. Methods that are safe for mother earth."

Illia paused in mid-bite as Ruth asked her question, and swallowed. He suddenly became aware that he had not yet delivered their parcel. It was the reason they were here and he had neglected to hand it over. He was slipping – a great alpha he was making. "Ahh, I almost forgot, Mr. Winters. The book the very reason we are here." He took the book from his pocket, placed it on the table and slid it toward their host. "What type of tome is it, and why would it take nine of us to deliver it?"

Winter took the book and said, "Well, it is not much, just a book of theories on the outer areas of the umbra, written by a member of my order. It’s kind of old, about 40 years, and most of the theories have been disproven or forgotten. As to why he sent you, I am not really certain, but if it were me, knowing what I do know of your ways, I would say it was a two-fold reason. A: The theories here probably shouldn’t be read by the mundane. It has too much information that could cause more questions to be asked, and B: You are a new pack from what I understand. I imagine he wanted to give you a task that got you used to each others mannerisms, methods, and strengths and weaknesses before sending you on any other sort of mission where not knowing these things could lead to failure or worse. However, those are only my thoughts. Only Algeron knows the true reason."

Ruth ate hungrily, enjoying the meal extremely. She tried to concentrate on what the old human said but sometimes it was complicated. She sighed a little at the mundane explanation for their journey. She’d been so excited, and felt a bit foolish when their first ‘adventure’ was so uneventful. Maybe they’d been sent here just to meet Geoffrey Winters?

The rest of the meal passed in a mixture of small talk and silent thoughts. Winters was pleasant, and answered most of the pack’s questions to the best of his ability, while the Homid members of the pack tossed banter back and forth. The lupus, initially keenly uncomfortable in their urban environment, soon loosened up and began to enjoy themselves and the well-cooked meal. Occasionally, one would stop what he or she was doing and stare back at the klaive, then look at Winters, but the mage paid no attention to it. Before too long, it was time to bid farewell.

Winters escorted the pack to the door, and stopped Illia on the way out. "By their behaviour," he said, gesturing at the rest of the pack, "I’d guess you were their alpha." The word sounded strange coming out of his mouth, like he was repeating the word without truly understanding it’s significance. "I just want you to know," he said. "If you or any of your pack are in town, feel free to stop by and say hello. I know that doesn’t happen often, but if you are…." He left the invitation open.

Illia smiled, and this time the smile almost reached his eyes. "We will try," he said, and ducked into the suburban. Slowly, with Rory driving one vehicle, and Francisco the second, the pack pulled away and headed for the Sept. Oddly enough, most of the pack felt they had made a friend that evening, and eagerly awaited returning to let Algeron know his delivery was accomplished.

Unfortunately, not but fifteen minutes’ drive from Winters’ house, the pack ran into a problem in the form of a flat tire on the suburban. Several children who were playing on the playground nearby stopped to watch as the pack got out to change the tire. As soon as the jack had the vehicle lifted, the kids jumped the fence and walked up, aggression filling their scents. The apparent leader of the group reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a gun, saying, "You’re on my street. Give me all your money or I’ll put a hole in your fucking head." The rest of the group had also produced pistols, and one of them pulled out what looked like an Uzi semi-automatic.

Looking up from where she was crouched watching the others change the tire, Stone Biter raised an eyebrow at the children. She sighed. Cubs should know their place. These clearly did not. Too bad for them. She focussed her senses into the patterns her sisters had taught her to detect the stench of Wyrm taint. Perhaps these cubs were not so mundane as they seemed.

Rory looked over from where he was changing the tire, and made a soft grunt. "I don’t fucking believe this," he muttered. For a moment, he considered shifting to Glabro form, then decided these kids didn’t warrant it. With another quiet grunt, he took the handle out of the tire jack, and gripped it in one hand close to his leg. After facing the British military, he almost laughed at the gall of these kids. Picking up his jacket from where he’d lain it to change the tire, he made his way to the forefront, facing the kids.

Again shaping his voice patterns to make himself sound convincing, Rory shuffled his feet, his jacket held loosely over one shoulder. "Now lads," he said, tucking the jack handle behind one leg, "do we look like we’re carrying any money?" He turned and looked back at the rest of the group. "You’re going to rob a couple of bums," he gestured to himself, Illia, Gee, and Rahl, "two worse bums," gesturing to Francisco and Simon, "and a couple of lassies what aren’t right in the head." This last he directed at Stone Biter and Ruth, hoping they would pick up on it and act accordingly - or naturally.

"C’mon, lads," he asked, pouring on the charm, "we’ve just got a flat tire, and ye’re tryin’ to rob people who don’t have any money. Looks like we’re both out of our luck tonight," he grinned ruefully.

Rahl was crouched watching the tire being changed, glad to be out of the car. Rahl growled as the children approached. He wasn’t sure exactly what the things they held were but he knew that he did not like the tone the child used. It sounded like a challenge. Rahl had the urge to fling himself at the youngsters and rip their heads off, and was about to act on that impulse when Rory stepped forward. Rahl changed to Glabro form waiting to see how the children reacted to what Rory said.

Ruth stood off to the side, having watched the operation closely. She looked surprised at the children’s hostility. Her instinct was to interpose herself and frighten them away or attack, but the last time she lost her temper had scared her, and having been a TV-watching dog, she knew the guns were dangerous. To Rory’s gesture, Ruth looked blankly at him. She noticed the Get beginning to change and began to shift to Glabro as well.

Stone Biter stepped forward and growled, "Bah! Let’s just tear them apart and scatter their carcasses about to feed the dogs and the ravens, that’s what I say."

Simon was in no mood for a fight now, full of food and tired as he was. He glared at the kids and hoped that Illia would hand over whatever cash the pack had, if they had any at all. But as Illia was Alpha, Simon would obey. If Illia attacked, then Simon would be only too happy to pounce on them and tear their throats out. He considered shifting to Hispo and frightening the kids away – after all, they were only ignorant teenagers, and just barely that. Simon stiffened and waited for whatever was to come out of this situation

Gee sauntered in behind Rahl and listened to the arrogant kids. When the children pulled out the guns Gee was at a loss. It was obvious that they were ready to fight, but hadn’t done anything. Following his brother’s cue, Gee assumed the Glabro form as well.

Francisco, leaning against the van picking his teeth from the remains of dinner, smiled. "Reminds me of me when I was that age," he commented, amusement colouring his voice. As Stone Biter and the others readied themselves for combat, he looked over the children and barked out a short laugh. "Hey Illia!" he said. "Nine of us against a couple of ten year olds. What do you think the elders will say? I reckon that if we can beat this crowd up, they’ll send us straight to third rank!" He laughed at his own joke, casually ignoring the kids. Secretly, Francisco recalled his own childhood where many scenes such as this one took place with him on the other side of the hunter-prey fence. Except, of course, that he was never that well armed.

Max, who had been in the rear of the pack, watched stoically, before he came to the realisation that something was going to go down, and soon. He attempted to meld into the shadows behind the pack, seeing if he could perhaps sneak up behind the leader of the street gang and incapacitate him, saving much needless bloodshed on behalf of both parties. Unfortunately, his own pack seemed primed for bloodshed, especially Stone Biter.

Indeed it did look like there was going to be trouble, because as Stone Biter got a positive reading with her Sense Wyrm Gift, the oldest of the children said, "Action Bill says you gots some money, probably from a drug run, so we’re going to take you down. Nail them, boys."

Suiting action to words, he opened fire. Suspecting trouble, Rory reacted first and threw his jacket at the boy with the semi-automatic and charged him. The thrown jacket blacked out the boy’s field of vision and the bullet that would have ended Rory’s life whizzed by scant millimetres from his head.

As bullets started to fly in his direction, Rahl completed his shift into Glabro. Fortunately for him, the child was shooting more blind than aiming, and the shots went wide, smashing up the back of the van. Glass shattered everywhere.

Responding to Stone Biter’s unsubtle threat, one of the children spat back, "You can try, bitch, and I’ll just feed you to Mr. Bullet here." Stone Biter just managed to get out of the way of the shot. Meanwhile, Gee and Ruth completed their own shifts into the muscle-bound Glabro form. Illia stood, unsure of what to do, when two of the kids took aim at him and fired. Bullets slammed into his torso and threw him back up against the van.

Jacket fallen, the kid with the Uzi fired at the charging Rory. Bullets flew and one managed to nip Rory’s arm, but it just barely qualified as a scratch. Drawing back, Rory slammed the kid in the head with the tyre iron. Instead of feeling the welcome thud of metal hitting bone, Rory felt as if he’d struck the side of the van. The kid shook his head and laughed.

Simon moved forward growling, and one of the children fired at him. The shot went wide, and destroyed the side view mirror on the van.

The moment the first shot is fired, Francisco dropped to a crouch behind the van, covering his head and neck to protect it from the exploding glass. Moving his way around front, he looked down at the fallen Illia. Illia looked back at the Ragabash, blood bubbling from between his lips and managed to gurgle, "Silv—" before falling unconscious. Reaching inside his jacket, Francisco felt for his gun and cursed when he came up empty. Looking around, he saw his powerful packmates barely holding a group of children at bay and wondered what he could do to help. Reaching out to his rarely used spiritual side, he drew from the wellspring of Gaia within him. Responding to his need, the twilight shadows deepened until pitch black darkness covered nearly all the combatants.

Stone Biter had finally had enough. The loss of a packmate who seemed like he was going to be a decent Alpha, and the still-fresh loss of a pack due to the media and the influence of the Wyrm. And now after having come here and been here only a short time, the Wyrm reared its ugly head once more. Enough was enough. Rage burned hot and white within her, and she willingly surrendered herself to it. With dizzying speed, she ripped through the forms between her Homid and Crinos war form, and lashed out with mighty claws.

Even as Ruth cried, "No! Surely we are strong enough to take their weapons away! They are just children!" Stone Biter’s claws slashed at her opponent, starting at the groin and travelling upward. The boy’s genitalia were completely removed, and while her claws scraped over his chest, which seemed to be protected by some mystical force, his neck was not the same and suffered much as his groin had. Stone Biter snarled, "These humans stink of the Wyrm! They deserve no mercy, and they shall have none from me. It is time to sing the songs of War!"

Ruth cringed as the boy cried out and fell to the ground dead, but another threat rose in front of her, leaving no time for mourning. Channelling her own Rage, her hands blurred as she grabbed the boy’s hand and pushed it up into the air. A slick patch of ice, however, ended her plan there, and as she fell backward, she dragged the child down with her.

Rahl, enveloped by the inky blackness, suddenly found himself relying on his nose to find his opponents. Reaching directly in front of him, Rahl grabbed hold of some clothes. Setting his feet, he hauled his victim into the air behind him. There was a satisfying thump at the child landed somewhere beyond.

Rory, also enveloped in the darkness, let his Rage out to shift to Glabro. He quickly dropped and kicked his leg out in a classic foot sweep, certain that the boy, even though influenced by the Wyrm, would not have had a lot of close combat experience. A cry rang out as hit foot connected behind the boy’s knee. A thud and a burst of gunfire that resulted in the far-off tinkling of broken glass told him he was right about his assumption.

Simon, having waited until an opportune moment, leapt at Ruth’s opponent, flying through the air. Making full contact with the boy’s chest, he found to his surprise that his chest was quite hard and barely staggered the boy. Enraged, the boy turned and jumped at Simon, his teeth bared and incisors surprisingly enlarged. Grabbing hold of the wolf, he bit into Simon’s shoulder, but only managed to get a mouthful of fur.

Taken by surprise, Gee was the last to react. His brother was in that shroud. Racing toward the pitch black darkness, he pierced the blanket. Disoriented, he made his way toward the sounds of growling. A shot rang out, then a drill, hot and cold and twisting bit into Gee’s gut. Clutching his belly, Gee felt hot blood spill out and staggered out of the shroud and to the ground. Baring his teeth against the pain, the Get of Fenris struggled to his feet and moved back into the shroud trying to find his brother.

In the darkness, Rory reached for and found his opponent’s feet. Using his superior strength, he manhandled the kid onto his front and pinned his neck down with the tyre iron. It would be difficult for the boy to use the Uzi to any advantage in this position. Moments later, he couldn’t use the Uzi at all as Rory stripped the weapon from his hand.

Max, who had been trying to find the gang leader to incapacitate him. Looked back and suddenly saw Illia lying motionless against the van. With a strangled cry, Max changed his course, running through the carnage to Illia’s side, hoping he would not be too late to save his life.

"Shit!" snapped Francisco as he tried to figure out what to do with Illia. He looked down at the dying Silver Fang, and then saw Max running his direction. He moved away, leaving the Alpha in the hands of a more skilled healer. Scanning the battle scene, Francisco couldn’t find any more opponents, although the shroud seemed to be filled with combatants. Licking his lips, he wondered how long it would be before the police were called and their descriptions circulated. Either way, they needed to get out of there, fast. Turning to the van, Francisco found that it was still jacked up, and the tyre was on, but there was no tyre iron.

"Rory! The tyre iron!" he yelled at the shroud. "Give me the fucking tyre iron!" He scrabbled with cold fingers at the lug nuts, trying to tighten them with his bare hands.

Stone Biter moved into the darkness, her senses still picking up the Wyrm stench. She found one of the children and lashed out. The boy cried out in pain briefly as Stone Biter’s claws went through his back and retracted with his spine. The child had gotten turned around in the dark and was facing the wrong way to defend himself.

"Mother Gaia! They are fomori!" cried Ruth as she dipped into her own Rage, agonised at the corruption of children, and her human face erupted into a snarling and biting wolf. The change came relatively easily having fallen down and seeing the evil within the heart of the child. Her body elongated on the street into the Crinos form and she got off the ground.

Simon channelled his rage and took the war form almost instantly. His claws pushed through the boy’s gut easily as he struck at close range, and he pulled back a big string of intestines and liver. Even the powers granted by the Wyrm could not save the boy then.

In the darkness Rahl scrapped his claws against a rock and unseen sparks flew in the shroud. "Now you die," he growled as he rushed out of the shroud, only to find the boy that he had thrown incapacitated by the exploding ammunition of his own gun.

Another child in the dark fired blindly. The bullet whizzed by Rory’s ear, and a splash of blood caught him in the face. The body of the boy he was holding on to jerked once from him and then went limp.

Another shot rang out, and another bullet flew through the air. Gee, rising from the ground, was struck in the shoulder and cried out again as the wound began to burn.

Max, kneeling next to the fallen Illia could tell at a moment’s notice that he was indeed too late. The first of the silver bullets that struck the Ahroun had found its mark well, lodging in the heart of the Silver Fang. It would take more than the Mother’s Touch could do, and more than Max could do to heal him, and it didn’t seem like there would be anyway to get him to some one who could.

"Nooooo!" Max screamed. Another life lost, another instance where he arrived too late to save the day, another warrior of Gaia lost. The list went on and on. Now he let the full power of his Rage course through his body, changing in an instant to the burly Crinos form. His oddly groomed, red and black striped fur gleamed in the moon’s light. Consumed by the Rage, he looked for the nearest available enemy to rend and tear. Finding none, he vent his frustration and rage on one of the nearby corpses.

Rory shook his head as the child he was holding kicked once, then hung like dead weight in his hand. Sending children to do a monster’s job was just going too far. These kids should not have had to die. Still, even in death they might serve a purpose. Shouldering the body of the child he held as a shield against flying bullets, he made a crouching run toward the van, stopping to pick up his jacket on the way. As he approached the van, his eyes widened momentarily at the site of Illia’s body. Swearing in Gaelic, he dropped the body of the child at the back of the van before handing Francisco the tyre iron.

"We're not leaving yet," he said to the Ragabash, "not until we clean up. After the tyre’s fixed, help put this" - he gestured to the body of the child – "in the back, and help me round up the rest."

Kneeling near Max, Rory picked up Illia’s body and moved to place it inside the van, in the passenger seat, where Illia had spent close to his last moments, biting back a growl as he did so. Needless. This death was needless. The damned Silver Fangs had to learn that their damned insistence on pure blood was going to get them all killed. Illia had simply been too slow and lost within his own thoughts to survive.

"To the van," he shouted in the Garou tongue. "Pick up the bodies and return to the van! Leave no trace of our presence! Burn your eyes, we need to leave fast!" This said, he put his own words into action, searching the ground for shell casings. If at all possible, he would leave no evidence they had ever been there.

Satisfied with his kill, Simon heard Rory’s voice and ran towards him as Ruth moved the body. He heard Stone Biter’s war cry as she hunted for the last child. He approached the van and got in.

Francisco grabbed the tire iron off Rory and immediately went to work on the tire. He quietly swore to himself in Spanish as Rory assumed command. He quickly finished screwing in the tire and lowered the van on its jack, annoyed at the people crowding around it. He finished the work and pulled the jack out from under the car. Grabbing the equipment, including the flat tire, he threw it straight into the car, almost on top of Simon, who was just clambering in.

He knelt beside the car and grabbed a stray bullet shell, then walked over to give it to Rory. As soon as he approached the shroud, still not fully dispersed, he tapped Rory on the shoulder. "Okay, Irish," he whispered. "I’m following your orders now, because you’re an Ahroun and it’s times like this Ahrouns are supposed to provide the lead. But don’t think that just because the Fang bought it that you’re now top dog. You’ll have to earn it, even if he didn’t." Francisco dropped the bullet shell in Rory’s hand and then turns around, looking for more.

Stone Biter heard Rory’s cries as a dim buzz in the back of her rage-filled mind. She ignored it like she would the sting of a gnat. There were still fomori alive in this blackness; she could smell them, and she could hear their foul breath. The Song of War was not complete until the enemy lay dead. With a howl that was as much music as passionate challenge, she flung herself towards the remaining Wyrm stench.

Hole Sniffer’s nostrils flared at the smell of blood and death. There were some Fomori still alive in the darkness. But there were many warriors, better than her. Hole Sniffer crouched and grabbed the dead child with one massive claw, reaching for another as she passed. She brought them to the trunk of the car, dropping a body to open it carefully. Despite her care, a little blood dribbled onto the bumper. Hole Sniffer growled in Garou, "Even a human can see something died here."

Rory grinned ferally from where he was picking up shell casings. "Aye, but ye’d be surprised what humans don’t want to see. Use one of their shirts to wipe the blood off, and ye’ll be right." Quickly he made some calculations. Three dead kids, and four alive - one whom would not pose a threat without his fingers and a burned face. Shifting into Lupus, he streaked for the inky blackness of the Shroud, where the heightened senses of the Lupus form would prove to be an advantage. Already he knew these fomori were vulnerable in the legs, throat, and back - more than enough targets for him. Baring his teeth, he let his nose guide him to his next victim. He didn’t really want to kill the children, but this had to end quickly. The blackness of the shroud would conceal them for the moment, and hopefully leave the remaining children ignorant of what they had faced.

Rahl emerged from the shroud only to find the child unconscious. "I get all the luck." He stooped down and grabbed the limp body, tossing it over his shoulder. Rahl knew there were more fomori left. Ignoring Rory’s shout to head for the van, Rahl amplified his senses and headed back into the shroud. "They must die." The children smelled like they had been smoking, but with all the carbonate from the guns it was hard to get a precise location. Rahl stayed low and proceeded toward where he thought one of the gun-wielding fomori was.

The last two of the children were no match for the combined fury of Rahl, Stone Biter, and Rory. Stone Biter was really bothered because her last battle with the Wyrm was in the form of children as well: a bit older than this, but still children. It seemed the Wyrm knew no boundaries.

Francisco fumbled with the lug nuts of the tire as his hands were getting cold in the January night. Maximillian looked things over and noticed that Gee was really hurt and Max helped him into the car. Sirens sounded in the distance, and the clean up work went faster.

Anger still coursed through Max’s veins, though he did his best to quell it until it was needed again. Heading back to Illia, he picked the body up, taking off his cloak and wrapping it gently around the body. "Illia died a warrior’s death; as such, he will receive a proper burial. He fell defending Gaia from the Wyrm, and will receive an honoured place in our hearts." Max spoke softly, but threateningly and commandingly. A haunted look crosses his face, and everyone got the feeling that he had spoken those same prescribed words many times before.

He looks purposefully at the Simon, who had challenged him before they left the Sept. "I warned you before the mission began that there was more to it than met the eye. Never mock the spirits, or it will come back to haunt you..."

Max turned back to face the rest of the pack. "I have come up with a pack name. We are now the Pack of Gaia's Heart, and our Totem is Owl." Max turned and reverently placed Illia’s body in the car, and tended to those who were wounded.

Stone Biter found herself standing amidst corpses and her comrades. Her claws and muzzle were tatty with dark blood, which she could taste in her mouth. Her eyes blazed with an inner fury, as she drew gulping breaths to calm herself. When she had regained enough of herself, she began to the slow shift back to her Homid form. "We must go and quickly. Humans will come here soon, for there have been shots fired." Then she notices the remaining fomori, still alive. "Shall we bring this one for questioning, or kill it now?"

Ruth, too, concentrated on taking the human form again, getting halfway there. She looked around to see the tenor of her comrades and spoke. "I say bring it. We may find out something. And perhaps," she said softly, "get the Bane out."

Simon stared at the unconscious kid. "I say we take him," Simon said, "Though I think we should go to the umbra and kill the bane before trying anything else," He looked round waiting for the response.

Stone Biter growled. "Easier to get the piss out of a lake than that, I think. But we should bring him. He may be useful." With that, she stepped up to him, and scooped him up, tossing him over her shoulder. Then she headed for the van with her bloody burden, sickened by the feel of his bane tainted flesh against her own.

Rory emerged from the shroud, and heard what his pack mates were saying. Stone Biter was competent, if a bit too consumed by her passions. Rory could understand that. His own people were also consumed by their passions. So consumed that they had fought a war for over 800 years and still hadn’t given up fighting.

Reverting to his breed form, Rory shouldered past the people standing around and got into the driver’s seat of the suburban. "In case the guns have damaged yer hearin’," he said quietly, "those are sirens headed this way. I’d suggest we get back to the Caern and decide what name our pack should have, and whatever else to do there. I’m sure Lord Algeron" – there was a bare trace of righteous anger slipping into his voice, but not enough to say for certain. His face brooked no argument, however. "will have plenty of questions fer the lad." A feral grin appeared on his face. "Those of you who wish can stay and talk can answer questions the police will be sure to have. Those who have no wish to speak with them should get in the bloody car!" Glancing back in the rear view mirror, he said to Simon. "Ye’ve got the right idea, lad, but there’s simply not enough time fer it right now."

With that, he turned the key in the ignition, without waiting to see who was going to argue and who was going to get in the car. Ruth grabbed anything left and squeezed in. The smell in the car was rank. Rahl, carrying the fomori over his shoulder, jumped in the car, bumping his head as he did so. He put a dent in the ceiling with his fist. "I hate these machines."

Francisco jerked the station wagon into first gear and pulled away from the curb. The sound of sirens was getting louder, but for a moment, Francisco did not drive. Instead, he shot a venomous glance at Rory in the other car. Francisco had not been happy when Ilia had been rewarded the Alpha status without having to earn it. Now Ilia was dead, and seconds later, Rory had assumed command. Francisco snarled to himself, his lips pulling back.

As the pack left the scene of the battle, Francisco daydreamed of heading right towards a bunch of police cars, but unfortunately, they didn’t arrive in time to stop the pack from fleeing the area. However, the Ragabash did manage to scare his packmates as he weaved towards a BMW and then hit a trash can, sending it flying across the sidewalk. He laughed all the way back.

Gee’s condition worsened on the drive back to the caern. Something inside was wrong and there was no way to be sure on how long he would last. The drive back was a sombre affair, as this was not the way any of them envisioned this going. The original task had gone smoothly. The book was delivered, and they had even learned more about at least one supernatural in the area. Then they discovered eight others, the seven fomori children and the Wyrm. Nobody said much on the ride home – not even the usually glib Francisco.

Before long, the pack had reached the outer edges of the caern and was stopped by FireEyes, the Silver Fang Alpha of the Guardian Pack, and ShadowWalker , and Uktena of the same pack. FireEyes stepped up and said, "We sense Wyrm taint in the vehicles; they can’t go any further." Meanwhile, ShadowWalker looked in at the bodies and cursed, "Damn It! I thought the fucking monkeys who call themselves Garou had taken care of this!"

FireEyes walked over to the station wagon and looked what ShadowWalker was looking at. In their haste to get out of dodge no one saw a badge one of the boy’s coats. It read ‘Action Bill Detective’ FireEyes shook his head, looking at each of the pack members. "Action Bill is one of the latest toys put out by one of Pentex’s corporations, along with an addicting cartoon show. It gets the kids young. It even fools the parents by including literature that promotes social responsibility, anti-drug and alcohol, all that Good Samaritan stuff. What it doesn’t say that this will turn your kid into a paranoid, violent, Dirty Harry wanna-be. These kids are quite far gone. The Glass Walkers told us they had gotten a subpoena and recall issued in the area."

He looked at Illia's body and Gee and said to ShadowWalker, "See if there is anything you can do for him. Why don’t the rest of you go to the Ritemistress and get cleansed and then report your actions to the warder and Lord Algeron. We’ll clean up here."

Stone Biter got off the boy she had been babysitting, and hauled him out of the vehicle. "We have a live one here. We thought he might possess useful information." She dropped him on the ground at her feet, unwilling to endure his foul touch any longer.

In the car Simon had calmed down and was slowly becoming his usual self. It felt like there was no where better to go so that he could rest than the caern, although he couldn’t say the same for Gee. At the rate he was going, Simon reckoned he would die soon. Damn the fomori! After he had rested Simon intended to suggest going to the umbra and defeating the bane. He hoped that the pack would agree for he had never tasted leadership before.

As Gee got out of the car, he looked at his brother and then at his wounds. He knew they didn’t look good and he was feeling even worse. He started getting a little woozy. He leaned on Rahl as his world slipped into blackness. Rahl grabbed his brother as he started to fall to the ground. He looked around for someone to help, and his pleading eyes fell on ShadowWalker and FireEyes. "Help me?"

For a few moments, Ruth’s human forehead furrowed with agitation. Somehow, she wished they had a real Alpha to talk to the Guardians. It felt like their pack was such a failure. She hoped the others would beat each other up soon, and find out who was the toughest. Hesitating over Gee, she murmured to Rahl, "I have the Gift of the Mother’s Touch. Perhaps I can help?"

Max remained silent at by the vehicles, although his mind was full of the introspection the Stargazers were famous for. "Once a new alpha is chosen, he and I will have to work on some of the more martial disciplines," he mused, looking at the rest of the pack, and shaking his head. "Yes," he thought, "some training in team tactics would not be amiss before we begin our crusade against the Wyrm in earnest!"

Rahl held his brother’s limp form and looked over at Ruth. "Do what you can for him. I will be in your debt." Rahl looked down at Gee then back to Ruth, "P... Pl ...Please."

FireEyes moves to Rahl and said, "Let us tend your brother." He looked at Ruth and then back to Rahl and said, "Right now, you have more important things to tend to, the first of them being getting cleansed. Now go to the Ritemistress and do not worry. If it is Gaia’s will he will pull through." The look that the Silver Fang Adren gave them said that his last words were a command, not just a statement. Combined with the purity of his breeding and rank, the fact that he was the alpha of the Guardian Pack brought additional weight and social pressure to bear on the subjects. His associated with the Caern Warder was nothing to sneeze at, either. In times of need, even Algeron obeyed Howling Thunder.

Hole Sniffer relaxed into wolf form. Her head and tail were low as she trotted off after the others. To try and cheer herself up, she began to think of names for their Pack. ShadowWalker Pack? No, that was the Guardian’s name. Pack of Shadow’s Walking? Too much like Shadow’s whisper.

The pack headed for the Ritemistress, giving a glance back every once and a while. ShadowWalker was working on Gee and FireEyes was clearly pulling bodies from the car and looking them over. The pack passed into walk into the forest, the light of the moon glittering off of the snow, as the two Guardians passed from view. The only sound is the crunch of your feet on the snow. After about five minutes’ walking, the relative silence of the night is shattered by a single loud gun shot, and most of the pack jumped, even if only a little. A few moments later, the silence is once again disturbed by a loud screaming howl, that Rahl instantly recognised as his brother’s.

As the pack walked through the snow, Simon sidled up to Rory, "Okay," he said, "I’m following you for now but you’ve got to prove yourself before you gain the respect I would give to Alpha!" Simon said, then walked around for a while within earshot of Rory as if wanting a response.

Rory nodded slowly, looking the Bone Gnawer in the eye. Many Garou had no respect for the Gnawers and their city-like ways, but Rory had learned to never discount them. When everyone else fell, the Gnawers were still there, and they pulled strength from seemingly bottomless resources. That had to be respected, even if the Gnawers did seem perfectly happy feeding off the scraps of others.

"I may no’ be perfect fer the choice, lad," he said quietly to Simon, "but I promise ye I’ll never let ye down. I know my priorities, an’ the first is to my pack. Ye may not always be eatin’ fine meals like ye had tonight, but ye’ll still be alive. An’ if ye’re not, ye’ll have died fer a cause, not shot by fomori children!" This last was almost a spit on the ground. "We’ll just have to wait an’ see how many of yuir packmates share yuir opinion."

Inside, Rory was feeling slightly better. Granted Illia was dead, an’ before he’d had the chance to start up a friendship with him, but then, these things happened. Rory had lost count of how many friends he’d lost before he really knew them, and had learned to deal with it. He didn’t like it, but he knew how to deal with it. The important thing was that his packmates were slowly coming around to accepting him as someone who could lead them. All the words had been couched in aggressive overtones and spoken of respect that needed to be earned, but those were expected threats. An alpha who did not earn the respect of his pack could not lead. If he could not lead, they died.

Simon had completely cooled down by now. He heard the shot and was ready to run back to the cars if Rahl hadn’t. Simon waited a moment for more shots, thinking that perhaps the fomori had come round and was using one of his ex-friend’s guns, but no one else shows any signs of distress.

Gee was in horrible pain and ShadowWalker worked furiously to help him. He smiled and said, "You are in pain, yes?"

Gee nodded.

ShadowWalker said with a wry grin, "Remember it, for it is the best feeling you are going to have for a little while." And with that, his hand transformed into a Crinos paw. He dug around in the Get of Fenris’ flesh with the claws of his forefinger and thumb. The pain was excruciating. The two claws wiggled around a little bit inside and he couldn’t bear it any more. Gee let out a screaming howl, and very nearly blacked out again. Two seconds later ShadowWalker pulled out the silver bullet that was lodged in your shoulder. He quickly clamped his hand down on Gee’s shoulder and started to use the Gift of the Mother’s Touch. As he started to work on the bullet lodged in the Theurge’s belly, Gee finally succumbed and passed out.

As darkness entered, a shape started to materialise. A form in Lupus started toward Gee, and began to shift to Homid, looking vaguely familiar. He had brown hair, green eyes, and a small scar above his left eye. ::My name is White Paw. I am an ancestor to you, Gee. You should be more careful when dealing with the Wyrm. Do not allow yourself to be taken in by the foul minions of the Wyrm. Use everything you have in this battle. Because it will take that and much more. Learn as much as you can from your packmates and trust them. Remember to rely on your pack.:: he said, his words not so much issuing from his mouth, but seemingly directed straight from his brain.

As the pack approached the Rite Mistress’ tent, Stone Biter hurried inside. She had never wanted cleaning so badly in her life. She felt stained, polluted by the taste of fomori blood in her mouth, on her skin, the stench of the wounded one on her body. As she entered the sacred spaces, she shucked off her polluted clothing, tossing them aside. "Ritemistress, I come to ask cleansing. I am soiled by fomori blood and my heart is heavy for the loss of our leader in battle this day. I plead that you help lift my burdens and cleanse my stain from me," she said in a ceremonial voice, sing song and fluid.

Rory picked up where she left off. "Shadow’s Whisper-rhya, we have all faced Wyrm-taint tonight, and though the fomor were slain, the Wyrm did not leave without touching us. We ask Gaia’s cleansing through you, for all of our pack. I do not have a strong connection with Gaia, but if I can donate any of my spiritual energies, please allow me to do so."

Shadow’s Whisper looked up from what appeared to be a bit of leather-working. The Ritemistress stood and said, "Tell me a bit about the nature of the fomori and what you could tell of the curses that the Wyrm put on them, so I may give a more focused cleansing."

"The Wyrm protected them from our claws, Shadow’s Whisper-rhya, but apparently they were not worthy of further protection. Only their heads and chest. They were also affected by the toy known as ‘Action Bill Detective,’ which I have on good faith is a product of Pentex. They were armed, with explosive ammunition, and with silver. Our packmate, Gee, was injured and now lies with FireEyes and ShadowWalker for healing," Rory said, shaking his head. "If they were further tainted, I dinnae know of it, but ‘t was enough to slay Moon Shadow."

As Rory finished, the lean Hispanic man steps forward. "What makes me suspicious is that we stopped outside a playground for a flat tire. The children were already in the park, fully armed with high powered weaponry, and they were on us within a couple of minutes of us stopping. Either the whole of Portland is one seething mass of Fomori, or we were extremely unlucky, or this was somehow planned. I can’t believe it was a coincidence that these children happened to be waiting exactly where we broke down." Francisco glances at Rory darkly before he sits down on the pine needles.

Simon mused over the situation they had come across. Francisco had a point, he thought. How would the kids know where they were and why would they all be hooked up with guns? Maybe through Geoffrey Winters… Maybe some minion of the Wyrm had seen the pack leave Winters’. Still, how would they know that they would have a flat tire at the playground, instead of somewhere else? The answers were most likely to come out of the kid, but if they were to question the kid, they’d have to get bane out. Simon wished that the cleansing and reporting would end quickly. Also this was a chance to go into the umbra for once!

Shadow’s Whisper listened and said, "Very well. First thing." She disappeared into the lean-to that she was sitting under and pulled out a medium sized wooden box. Bringing it over to the pack, she opened it and said, "Get rid of your clothes. We’ll get you more when we are done."

She set about getting various things together. Moments before she was ready, they pack was distracted by the sound of something sliding across the snow. Looking behind them the pack saw the Crinos forms of FireEyes and ShadowWalker pulling two relatively large sleds, one with the unconscious Gee on it and the other with the bodies of the seven children. Shadow’s Whisper looked up and looked at FireEyes, who was pulling the sled with the children, and pointed to an area where there were no trees nearby.

ShadowWalker dropped the rope he was using to pull the other sled for a moment and squatted next to Rahl. Leaning close, he whispered to the Ahroun, "He will be fine with some rest."

The Ritemistress chuckled as she listened to Francisco’s spoken thoughts on the "ambush," but didn’t volunteer any opinions. She looked at Gee and said, "I will cleanse him after I am through with all of you." To ShadowWalker, she said, "Get rid of those clothes and then make sure none of the Ragabash play with the corpses." She put out a large bowl and six wooden mugs, and poured a fluid into the bowls and glasses. "First, put your hands in the bowl, make sure your hand is covered."

As each of the pack complied, she began chanting in a language none of them recognised. It sounded much like the Garou language, but perhaps it was a particular dialect or regional accent. It certainly sounded older than the Garou tongue. As her chanting got louder, the fluid in the bowl bubbled and frothed, and each of the Garou’s fingers began to burn, particularly under the nails. Faces contorted and twisted with the effort of not crying out, although oddly enough Francisco didn’t feel nearly as much pain.

As the chant stopped and the fluid returned to normal, Shadow’s Whisper said, "Drink this and do not spit it out." As the pack drank she chanted again, in the same language, but with different words. Again faces twisted and contorted in grimaces, and Francisco was no exception this time as the stuff tasted slightly worse than wet road tar.

After the drink, the Ritemistress moved about the pack, almost as if she were dancing. As she moved, she chanted the same words over and over, throwing snow up in the air. Blood surged in each of the pack members as the chant rose. The chant and the cold snow were invigorating. As her chant reached a crescendo none of the pack could fight the sudden urge to shift into Crinos. As the forms warped and assumed the horrible war-form, the Rite Mistress let out a loud howl, in which all present joined in almost instinctively. Answering howls rang throughout the forest and lupine shapes appeared at the edges of vision, supporting and lifting the howl. Though no human words were used, the message was still clear: "Leave us Wyrm or you will perish."

As the howls died down, Shadow’s Whisper says, "Come back to me in the morning just to verify that there is no taint. Go report to Algeron, as I am sure he will wish to hear what happened." She moved over to tend to Gee.

As the pack moved off to discuss their choice for a pack name, FireEyes returned with a bag and said, "There is a bunch of clothing in here. Take what you need and bring it back to me in the morning. By the way, I couldn’t help but overhear some of your discussion about a pack name. Just a word of advice, decide on a name that invokes what you want the rest of the Garou to think of when they think of you." He walked off.

As the pack had changed clothes, resulting in much the same as what they had been wearing before, they sat down and hammered out the details of their pack name. Voices rose in protest every now and then, and a few mentions were made of Illia and honouring his passing, but several hours later the pack had finally settled on a name. Rising, the pack went was one to Shadow’s Whisper’s den.

"I thought I told you to see me in the morning," she said without looking up from her leatherwork. "It may be past midnight, but please wait until after dawn."

"It is regarding a different issue, Ritemistress," Rory said. "You told us after we returned from delivering Algeron’s book to see you and let you know what our pack would be called, so you can enter the name into the Records, and let it be known to the People."

"So I did," she replied, looking at each of them thoughtfully. "What name have you decided on?"

Stone Biter spoke. "We will be known as the Pack of the Storm, for as a storm brings with it rain and wind, which gives water to the earth, and cleanses away all that needs to be washed away, so shall we cleans away the corrupting touch of the Wyrm. A storm comes in a variety of intensity, depending on what nature needs. Mother Gaia in her wisdom, always knows how powerful she needs her storm to be, and so it shall be with our pack. It brings wisdom, for those who have been through one storm know not to take another for granted. A storm brings calmness and serenity in the eye and in the after affects, and we shall bring all of these things."

Shadow’s Whisper nodded solemnly and shifted to Crinos. "As you say it, so it shall be entered," she said, moving to the back of the lean-to. Carvings in the picto-graphic language of the Garou covered the walls of the lean-to. Moving to a blank wall, she reached up with one claw and made a series of quick marks. Inscribing each other their name glyphs, she connected them with a combination glyph that meant simultaneously "Pack" and "Storm." Riding over the glyph, the Ritemistress inscribed the glyph that represented Owl. Stepping back, she admired her work, and then gestured to the wall, blank save for the fresh glyph-carving. "This is your wall. Your deeds and accomplishments will be recorded here, for all to see."

Leaving the Ritemistress’ lean-to with a renewed sense of vigour and purpose, the Pack of the Storm made its way to find Algeron. After a short time, they found him staring at the moon on a lone rock out-cropping that also overlooked Sebago lake. A tear glistened off his cheek, although he was quick to wipe it away as he saw the pack approach. He nodded sombrely and quietly said, "Rumour has it that you had an eventful evening."

Max, standing in the back of the Pack stoically, merely nodded politely at Algeron. He was not quite sure how to best explain what exactly had happened back there. Max wondered how many more lives were to be lost in the ceaseless battle. And, more importantly, what was the gain? He gazed over at his Packmates, unsure of what to say.

Rory nodded, hoping his obvious agitation is taken as post-battle excitement or perhaps anger at the unnecessary death of a Garou. "The book was delivered, as requested," he said, "but on the way back we were ambushed by fomori. Children fomori armed with silver. We all fought bravely, and perhaps Illia the most bravely. But the story of the battle is for Stone Biter to tell. The important bits are that the children were influenced by a toy known as Action Bill Detective, which I believe the Glass Walkers were working to recall." Rory paused. "Illia died in the fight, Algeron," he said. "He died fighting and protecting the rest of us."

He was a good liar. Rory may not have liked Moon Shadow very much, and even less liked the way he died. He may not even like Algeron very much for endangering his pack with an Alpha who couldn’t act decisively. But all that didn’t mean he couldn’t be considerate of the Sept leader’s feelings. All that didn’t mean that Illia wasn’t a staunch opponent of the Wyrm, and all that didn’t mean that Illia shouldn’t be remembered well by his people.

Stone Biter waited for the others to give their side of the mission, before making her own report. Her report was a fairly dry and concisely accurate recounting of the delivery of the book and the ride home, until they reached the fight.

"....The Wyrm the clarions to battle did sound. Cubs fought like warriors with weapons of silver. Thunder in their hands they carried, to hurl against Gaia’s children. Armoured in evil they were, and fearsome beside, but rage fuelled our claws. Darkness as an ally did descend, to hide our vengeance. Claws flashed! Teeth sank deep! The fomor died!"

"But Gaia’s Children paid valour’s price. Upon the ground, noble blood was spilled. Drops of crimson, Mother’s tears, the Silver fang is laid low. Weep for the fallen! Mother welcome Illia Moon Shadow! Mother comfort Illia Moon Shadow. Fallen in your service. Fallen to defend the world from evil! Let his name be remembered! Honour to the fallen!" With that she fell silent, speaking no more.

The husky-wolf named Hole Sniffer woofed softly. "We brought his body back. We should sing the Gathering for the Departed this night. Perhaps when Gee recovers from his wound, we can celebrate the Rite of the Wounded."

Rahl, standing in the back, listened as Child of Gaia spoke. He nodded to Algeron, "It is as they have said. We disposed of the Wyrm as Garou should, granting them no mercy, but we paid a high cost for our victory."

Algeron sat on the rock and listened, his sombre mood improving with Stone Biter’s story. He didn’t seem to be so tall right now, as if he had come back down to earth. He said, "In this day and age, it is a hard loss when any warrior of Gaia falls. For every step forward we take, the Wyrm seems to take three. We will remember our fallen, but we will also remember the living. I am calling a moot for tomorrow night. It won’t be a full moot, but it will be a moot. All will be honoured there. When you are done here, please tell all, and then get some rest. Also, your pack is without a named Alpha, although I am sure some of you took charge. In the morning, you will resolve this. Every one has good ideas, and good actions, but our enemy is strong, and there must be one in every pack to take those ideas and actions and give those thoughts and ideas form and direction and keep the pack strong."

"On a separate note, Mr. Winters was impressed with you all. He was amazed that some of you even tried to use the silverware. Many just scoff. Well done." He nodded. "You have been busy and in combat and need rest and I have something I must attend to."

Algeron stood and the pack took its cue to leave. A pungent odour caught most noses as they left, and smoke started to drift in from somewhere unseen. A few grew upset before FireEyes appeared and let them know they were simply disposing of the bodies properly. Slowly the pack made its way into the Sept cookfires, where food awaited. A few of them decided to forbear food, again, upset by the smell of charred flesh on the air.

Gee, being one of the first to fall asleep, heard a baby’s cry. Compelled to follow it, he travelled for quite a ways, through the web-lined streets of Portland, through the Scarborough and Saco districts, and deep into the Biddeford district. He found a hole from which the cry seemed to emanate, and ventured inside. Darkness filled the hole, existing at the same time as a sickly green glow that permeated the darkness, and yet was consumed by it as well. Further down the hole, a child rested on a stone altar. Amazingly, the child had breeding even more pure than that of Lord Algeron. A spirit guarded the child, and watched Gee carefully. Slowly, it pointed behind him. Gee turned, infinitesimally slowly, and felt himself being ripped apart before he could see what faced him.

Stone Biter also did not sleep well and dreamed of walking along the edge of a cliff. She heard a vaguely familiar voice yelling, "Help! Help!" She ran to see what it was and looked down to see Jeremy hanging onto a rock that seemed to be about ready to come loose. The cliff was so high that she knew if he fell, he would die. She reached out to help him and he grabbed her arm. He seemed very heavy, almost as if something was dragging him down. She grew dizzy from the effort, her vision spinning, and they both slipped and fell off the cliff.

The pack woke with a start to the sounds of a greeting of Helios. The sun was just starting to filter through the trees, and a relatively warm morning brought with it grumbling stomachs. Gee mentions that he felt better, but knew that he would probably be taking it easy for another day.

Stone Biter woke from her dream with a growl. She rose, stiff legged and glaring around her, feeling ill at ease. Her hackles were raised, and she flattened her ears. As she slowly convinced herself that it was just a dream, she realised that she misses Jeremy very much, the only decent male she ever met, and the best Alpha. She ate quietly, her thoughts clearly on other things besides food.

Hole Sniffer stretched thoroughly, working out the kinks in her tail and yawning widely. Balanced on her toes, she flared her nose, breathing deeply and slowly. After finishing the thirteenth breath and ending the Rite of Gaia, Hole Sniffer was hopping with energy. She chased her tail, ending up sprawled on the ground growling at it.

Rory groaned as he sat up, quickly gathering up his sleeping roll and stuffing it back into his canvas duffel bag before joining the others at breakfast. He wondered where the Sept got enough food to feed the 35 Garou that resided there. Quite possibly, the Glass Walkers aided a bit, although there seemed to be some tension between the Sept of the Eagle’s Eye and the Glass Walker faction in Portland.

He was interrupted in his musings by the passing of Anna, the Shadow Lord. He caught himself staring at her swollen belly and growled very softly, scowling back into his bowl. Rumour was all well and fine, but to flaunt it like that! That was going too far.

As the others broke their fasts, he looked around at sleepy faces. "Time to bite the bullet," he murmured, then spoke up. "Algeron said we should name an Alpha today, and while I don’ agree with everythin’ Algeron does or says, I agree in this. How shall we decide? Through challenge, vote, or some other way?" He waited to hear what the others had to say.

Anna stopped and slowly turned around and she stared at Rory intently. He couldn’t believe her hearing was that good. "I accept your challenge, whelp," she said, "and I choose combat. I may be pregnant, that won’t stop me from making you wear your ass as a hat. Be prepared to defend yourself at the next moot. I will let the Master of Challenges know. Unless you are brave enough to speak to my face, don’t speak at all!"

Hole Sniffer yipped laughter. "Silly Homid! You mustn't growl that way at any of higher rank!" He looked irritated, so she rolled onto her back, with her tail tucked over her stomach. When she saw that he’d forgiven her, Hole Sniffer rolled back over and pricked up her ears.

"If fight, mustn't use Crinos! Best use natural form, humans get stick for natural weapon 'cuz humans got no good teeth or claws. If break rule, no good leader, no good control!" She paused, a thoughtful canine grin topping her features. "Rrrummm," she said in the lupine tongue, "Who want be leader?"

Rory looked from the retreating form of Anna to Hole-Sniffer rolling on the ground, then snorted. He couldn’t help but like the Child of Gaia. She had a sort of freedom the others wouldn’t have. Hole-Sniffer could say things like that and pick on the meanest Ahroun and usually get away with it if she rolled right over to expose her underbelly. Pressing the advantage would only make them look even more stupid.

"Natural form?" he half-growled. "What would that be? I am not man, or wolf. I am Garou."

"Who does want to be Alpha?" he said, looking around. "Perhaps that would be best, singling out those who want to be Alpha, and let them resolve the challenges."

This said, he turned his mind toward the Shadow Lord Anna. She had apparently taken his growl as a challenge, and accepted. If the Master of Challenges agreed, he’d have to face her in combat. If he remembered correctly, though, his was the choice of weapons. His best bet would be to have both of them stay in Homid form. His greater height and weight should give him an advantage, and from there he should be able to wear her down. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. Karl Banemasher was a Get, and most of the Get had this weird sort of prejudice against lasses. He’d even heard of one sept of Get that refused to acknowledge when a woman was born under the full moon. Or perhaps he would simply decide her pregnancy wasn’t worth the risk.

Rahl listened as Hole Sniffer pokes at Rory and laughed inside, though none of it showed through to his physical features. Hearing Rory’s question, Rahl puts down his nearly empty plate, and stood. He stretched and inhales deeply, studiously ignoring the intensity of the situation and the question. Heading over to his brother, Rahl looked at him and knew he was in no condition to fight, but couldn’t resist a little fraternal teasing. "Come on you baby, get up. You’re not hurt. Let’s wrestle. I feel like a good tussle, although you never could best me." He looked back at Hole Sniffer wondering if she would be any fun to tackle, and laughed at her ferocity. "Children looking to challenge."

Max looked up from his plate, his ears perking up as the issue of Alpha was brought up. "An Alpha is needed. That much is clear. Further, we need a swift-thinking, decisive pack leader, who will not hesitate to make tough decisions when need be. I say that, as we are a pack, we should accept nominations and then vote on the best choice. I do not like the idea of a pack leader being assigned to us."

Francisco laughed openly at Rahl and Rory, both anxious for the position of Alpha. Francisco couldn't care less which of the two became leader. If the only contenders were Ahroun, then it was certain the pack would be led into one stupid confrontation after another, entirely to satisfy the leader’s bloodlust. Francisco considered challenging one of the two himself, just to annoy them, but he had no wish to get involved in a fight with either Rory or Rahl. Silently Francisco smirked, picturing the thrashing that awaited Rory at the hands of Anna, even if he did win the Alpha.

Stone Biter waited patiently to see if anyone would advance their suit to become Alpha of this pack. If it looked like only Ahroun would try, then she would have to act. They were meant to be a Wisdom pack. No Ahroun could lead them down that path. She considered Rory, wondering how he would do against Anna. She hoped she wouldn't kill Rory.

Rory looked around a bit longer. No one was making a bid for Alpha. For a moment there, Rahl looked like he might bid for it, but he merely wanted to tussle with someone. "Aye," he said. "If no one else wants it, then I’ll do it. I can’t sit by an’ let us continue to do the botch-up job we’ve been doin’ so far." He paused for a moment. "If anyone else wants it, ye’d better speak up now," he said.

Stone Biter immediately stood up, setting aside the scraps of her lunch, grinning. "Good. You want to be Alpha, I challenge you. You must prove yourself before I will follow you. We didn’t get to test our last Alpha, and look what happened. I make the challenge, so I let you pick the contest. You beat me, I’ll follow you."

Gee, seeing the opportunity, leapt at Rahl grabbing both of his arms behind his back.

Rahl realised his folly too late. He growled and used his strength and height to his advantage, breaking the hold and then turned on his brother. "See.. grrr... told ya. You can’t beat me." Rahl growled again and leapt toward Gee, grabbing him around the waist and wrestling him to the ground. Rahl heard the last of the conversation between Stone Biter and Rory. Holding Gee down with his weight, Rahl said, "Hey, if there is gonna be a fight, you can count me in."

Rory grinned. "Fair enough, lass," he said to Stone Biter. "As th’ challenged, it’s my right to choose the type of challenge." He grinned again. "If ye can drink me under th’ table, then I’ll concede. You can choose what we drink."

Stone Biter smiled and nodded. "Okay, beer should be fine. But we have to both stay in Homid form, and I’d like to add a condition of my own. Being an Alpha is as much about control as it is about power. Therefore, I say that if either one of us loses control of our temper or our tongue, they lose. Agreed?"

Hole Sniffer was satisfied. Either Nightfire or Stone Biter would make good Alphas. The ones who scorned the idea of Alpha, or didn’t want anything to do with it, would not. She wasn’t sure Rahl was serious, but he did seem in a good mood. She barked at him and raced away.

Rory smiled and nodded. "Done." This would be a challenge for either of them. "The conditions are now set. The first one to lose control of their tongue or temper loses. We drink beer until one or the other drops, and we must remain in Homid."

Max stared in amazement at the two challengers for the Alpha title, and saw that no-one else was objecting. "A beer drinking contest?" He growled. "We are a wisdom pack, not a pack of lounging human drunkards! I for one, don’t care how much beer either of you can drink! That proves nothing to me! Nor should it to the rest of the pack!" Max scoffed openly.

"Being able to hold your liquor won’t help us when the gates of Malfeas open and spew forth unimaginable horrors! Alcohol impairs judgement, remember! Now, if we can level the testosterone down, then we can put aside this ridiculous challenge and speak logically! Or, if you prefer to challenge, do as Garou should – in combat! At least I can respect the better warrior!"

"Hell, if this keeps up, I may as well throw my hat in the ring for the Alpha title!!" Max folded his arms calmly, menacingly, seeing and gauging how the rest of the pack reacts to his tirade.

Just as Stone Biter was about to turn on Maximillian herself, Rory lashed into him. She curbed her tongue, listening to his words, judging them and their worth. An Alpha should always be proving himself, always be strong and cunning.

Rory glared at Maximillian. "As the challenged, it is my right to select the contest," he said coldly. "Or have ye suddenly been chosen as the Master of Challenges? This is not about being able to hold your liquor, but about being able to keep your control in any circumstances. An Alpha must be able to do that. As for challenge by combat, how the hell are we supposed to be a bloody Wisdom Pack if all our Alphas are chosen by combat?! If ye wish to challenge for Alpha, then do so, but until then sit down, shut up, and do not interfere in challenges that ye do not participate in!"

Stone Biter smiled, pleased that his words would have been hers. He even added points that she never thought of. If he won, he might make a good Alpha after all.

Rahl looked at Hole Sniffer as she barks at him. He thought about chasing after her but with Gee under him he didn’t think long. Opting for the easier prey, he watched as Hole Sniffer dashed off.

He turned back to hear the tirade aimed at Serves with Faith. Rahl is starting to get tired of everyone bickering like children over the alpha position. Rahl jumped up off of Gee and raised his arms, "Let’s all just have a street brawl and get this over with. I am tired of everyone bickering like cubs over a piece of meat. Let’s get this over with right now. Who wants to be the one that all his or her packmates turn to with their problems? The person who wants to make a decision to die in the face of the Wyrm or live another day to do battle. I am tired of this. This situation is not bringing us closer together it is tearing our pack apart. Who wants the responsibility that killed Illia? Who wants the responsibility of alpha?"

Max turned to the two warring Alpha wannabes. "You both seem awfully hot-headed as well, for potential Alphas. I still don’t see the value to the pack in proving your ‘Manliness’ by a drinking contest. If you don’t care for testing your prowess in combat, by all means have the Ritemistress come up with a test of wisdom and stamina for the two of you. I’m sure that would fall under her purview! And I would solidly back the winner of that trial as Alpha with all the many skills at my disposal."

Max paused. "However, if you two insist on this foolishness, I will allow it to pass, then I will challenge the winner of that contest to a test of wits, strength, stamina and decision making. Those are qualities that are integral to both an Alpha and the success of the pack!" Max grins. "And, to ensure a fair trial for all, I will also ask the Ritemistress to prepare a suitably… challenging… test for us!"

As soon as Francisco heard the challenge, he howled with laughter as if he couldn’t stop. When he subsided, he listens with a smirk to Max’s complaints, and then spoke himself. "Stone Biter, you’re finished. Irish here knows his way around a beer bottle or I’m a Black Panther. You’re screwed. But to make things interesting, why don’t I supply the beer? I can do a quick run into Portland and get a few six packs on the bike."

Simon gaped when he heard what the challenge would be. "I’m with Max on this one," Simon announced. "The only time something like this would come in handy is when Rory, who’s almost certain to win gets drunk and still has a pack to lead!" Satisfied with his announcement he sat down again and spat in disgust. "Some pack we’re going to be," Simon muttered to himself.

Rory calmly weathered Max’s tirade, then responded. "Ye forget," he said, "The Master of Challenges is the one to decide group challenges, AND if ye choose to challenge the winner of this contest, then the challenged party chooses the form of the contest, not yuirself." With that, he turned to Rahl. "As for ye, ye speak too much of the Wyld’s tactics. The Wyld has played its part in the creation of our pack. Now this is a time for the Weaver, for the Weaver is the Namer. And that is what we are trying to do – Name the Alpha of our pack. Ye should listen more t’ yuir brother," he said, smiling.

Grinning at Francisco Rory nodded. "Aye, that’d be good of ye, thanks."

Stone Biter grinned and shrugged at the Ragabash. "I don't have to win," she said. "It’s enough to make the challenge. If ‘Irish’ wants to be my Alpha, he has to prove himself. I don’t care how he does it, but he has to do it. And for your information, Max, I don’t consider the challenge foolish at all. Perhaps you’d prefer some elaborate test of honour wisdom and courage, but for me, I’ll follow a Garou who can get dead drunk, not loose his cool, and not say anything stupid. That kind of control means that when the shit hits it, our Alpha won’t just be standing around, waiting to get shot. After our last mission, well, I find that kind of thing somewhat more important than I would have before."

Rahl scowled at Rory, and retorted half-heartedly. "I may talk too much of the Wyld, but at least I don’t talk too much."

After all the debates on the challenges, Ruth, Rahl, and Gee continued to "play" running about the caern and tumbling and wrestling. Francisco laughs out loud as he went off to get beer. The air, although still tense, seems to alleviate a bit.

As they waited for the beer, an older garou with only one eye and about roughly 35 years of age, limped over to where the pack had gathered. Standing about 6’2" with blond hair and very respectable muscles, he was instantly recognisable as Karl Banemasher, the Master of Challenges. "I hear there is a challenge for alpha going on here. Thought I would sit in and watch. Tell me about it."

As he heard the conditions of the challenge, he nodded his head. "Not exactly what I would have chosen, but you’ve both agreed, so it stands." He smiled and looked at Rory and said, "I also hear that your tongue slipped a bit in the presence of Anna. You are not the only one." He chuckled.

A while later Francisco returned with beer, explaining that rather then travelling all the way into Portland, he stopped at a Mom and Pop Shop along route 302. A couple of stumps proved useful for sitting on and sitting the beer. Rory and Stone Biter both sat down and opened the first beer and drank it down with no problems, although Stone Biter shook her head a little. She smiled at Rory, knowing he had the advantage and said, "Good to the last drop."

Karl chuckled a bit and watched and nodded.

Rory and Stone Biter opened the second beer and drank it down. By now, a few other Garou were starting to gather around, especially some of the younger ones. Bets along the line of, "I’ll take your watch shift" were starting to be made. Most bet on Rory to win. Stone Biter’s head started to feel a little fuzzy at this point in time, and there was quite a bit of laughter going on.

The third beer was cracked. Rory lifted his in a toasting fashion. Once again Stone Biter smiled confidently, not wanting to show that the beer was affecting her. They both drank it down. By now, there were about seven others watching. Andrew Killen, the Fianna Ragabash from the Pack of Laughing Wisdom started a chant of "Chug, Chug, Chug." Karl Banemasher cocked his head to one side as if he was listening to something and scowled. Stone Biter was getting quite tipsy at this point and Rory still didn’t seem to be affected that much.

The fourth beer was cracked and there was a bunch of laughing going on. Andrew called out, "Ah, beer! It’s not just for dinner any more." Rory put his down confidently and Stone Biter drank hers as well. Rory all of a sudden didn’t feel so well. He looked a bit pale, and betting started to shift a little bit towards Stone Biter.

The fifth beer was cracked and Rory had a hard time bringing the beer to his mouth. Stone Biter, although not as bad, was also having a little bit of a problem bringing it to her mouth. The crowd looked on tensely. Stone Biter finished her beer first and let out a loud burp that caused the on lookers to laugh intensely. Her supporters clap her on the shoulders. Rory finished his and started to let out a belch which turned into vomiting when he fell off the stump and passed out. The crowd cheered and was shocked in amazement. Killen shook his head, "Obviously the boy needs training."

A few moments later Stone Biter falls off of her log and is very dizzy. She is also a bit shocked that she won. Karl Banemasher got up and limped away laughing very, very heartily as if he is on the in to some secret joke.

Max watches, disdain clear on his face as the "challenge" began.... He flashes the few who backed him a shy smile as the contest progressed. At last the challenge ended, one standing victorious; seizing this opportunity, Max stepped forward, addressing the Master of Challenges. "I challenge the winner of this contest for leadership of the pack." He throws his head back, howling the challenge long and loudly, for the entire Sept to hear.

He addressed all present. "To ensure fairness for both of us, I would request that the Rite-Master sets the Challenge, and that it be a true test of leadership abilities... decision making, strength, stamina, endurance and wisdom. Unless thou art too much of a coward to face me on neutral ground, as it were. If thou can best me in such a contest, I will pledge my fealty and loyalty to you as Alpha of this pack! If, though, I best thee, thou wilt accord me the same honour."

Max’s face takes on an odd, beatific cast as he speaks, lapsing at times into archaic, formal speech patterns. It is almost to him as if it is not so much him speaking, but someone or something speaking through him.

Stone Biter’s head snapped up from the alcoholic daze in which the contest had left her. She surged to her feet, her eyes flashing with anger. "Coward?! Coward?! You imply that I am a coward? Fine, I will accept your rudely stated, and dishonourable call to challenge. But know this, Stargazer. Once Anna is finished challenging Rory to a duel of honour, you and I will settle up for that insult of yours. And a duel of honour is less likely to be to your taste, oh Swift of Tongue and Slow of Thought."

Banemasher stopped in his tracks, with a scowl on his face. He turned and said, "She I can forgive, because she is under the influence of alcohol. Something apparently that doesn’t happen all the time. You, on the other hand, I have a harder time forgiving." Looking right at Max, he continued. "You put your need to challenge, over the needs of a pack mate who needs assistance. Even though you disliked the method in which they resolved the challenge, you should have tended to your packmate first. That is the mark of an alpha. You just failed the true challenge of leadership ability. In a month, you may challenge again." Everyone fells silent and Banemasher turns and starts to walk away again.

When Rory finally came to, with a raging headache, the first thing he did was groan and slowly sit up. The second thing he did was grin weakly at Stone Biter. "Aye, lass, I guess everyone can have a bad day now an’ then. Well done," he croaked, "ye’ve got my support for Alpha." This said, Rory just held his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, muttering something about it being too early in the morning to be drinking.

After a time, Stone Biter shook her head, heavy with the weight of alcohol induced lethargy. The weight of the Master of Challenges’ subtle rebuke of her actions weighed heavily. She struggled to her feet, feeling her stomach roil in protest at the movement, and made her way unsteadily to where Max is standing. "I’m sorry, Serves with Faith. I publicly withdraw my challenge to honour, and ask for your forgiveness. I was drunk, and not in control of myself. Not in control...." Then she turned back and walked carefully back to where Rory was sitting, his head in his hands. "Congratulations, Rory. You win. You have my support for Alpha."

"Nae ye don’t," he said. "Ye won the challenge, fair an’ square. If ye feel ye didn’t hold up to the requirements, then we can arrange another, more suitable challenge later. If that’s what ye want, talk to Karl after I face Anna tonight." Rory puts his head back in his hands, muttering something in Gaelic.

"No, I didn’t win. Remember that the winner had to stay in control. I didn’t. I lost control when I thought Max was insulting me. That was the whole point of the challenge. I don’t deserve to be Alpha. If you want another challenge, we can see if one can be arranged, but I refuse to win dishonourably."

Rory nodded. "Fine. Ye choose the challenge, this time, an’ I’ll set the conditions. But talk t’ Karl, first. He might have something t’ say t’ ye about this challenge t’ change yuir mind."

After tiring of her chase with the Get, Hole Sniffer returned to where the others waited for Secret Sniffer. She didn’t understand the excitement the other Garou had for the contest. It seemed just a test of endurance, and rather dull. By the time the contest was almost over, she’d put her nose on her paws and was dozing. Her head jerked up at the shout that went up when Stone Biter won.

Hole Sniffer went over to snuffle at Nightfire’s face. He smelled awful but his scent was unwounded, if a little sick. She briefly considered eating the vomit he’d left on the ground but it had the nasty bitter smell. She ambled over to sniff at Stone Biter, too, then sat down. "Not hurt, can’t heal." All the challenges were beginning to confuse her. Her head went back and forth like at a tennis match. Then both Stone Biter and Nightfire argued over who really won.

Hole Sniffer stretched. "Can go hunt each other, staying in woods, til Luna goes to sleep. Can set traps, but can’t have no help. Must defeat other without hurting. Winner must be smart, sneaky, controlled and tough."

She shook so her ears flapped against her head. "Falls-On-Feet says that with Child of Gaia, have different leaders, different missions. Go kill, need Ahroun. Go talk to others, make deals, need Philodox. No one stay leader forever."

Rahl watched as the two Garou bantered back and forth. "I know that an alpha has to be smart and wise, but they also have to be strong. I believe that there should be a challenge of strength." Rahl pouted and said, "I want ta fight." Rahl looked around for a likely target.

Having watched the contest closely, Francisco took careful note of Karl’s face as he walked away. Something wasn’t right there. Francisco filed it away under Things To Discover and then went to sit down between Rory and Stone Biter, interrupting their reconciliation.

"Well, now that was a bit of a farce," he said bluntly. "First of all there’s the competition, which was as rigged as could be to Mr Fianna, and then somehow he passes out pissing before round six, which doesn’t seem quite right to me. So, having lost the competition by some sort of bizarre mishap, Miss Biter informs him that he won on a technicality."

Francisco swung his head from one to the other. "I don't want an Alpha on a goddamned technicality. Mystic Max suggests an alternative and gets slapped down because he phrases it the wrong way. Well if that’s the best we can do then we’re smashed, screwed and trailing on the tarmac."

"First of all, whichever one of you thinks you may have gotten Alpha had better think of something to prove it, because right now I’m not especially impressed, and I doubt if many of my packmates are either. Our domesticated Child of Gaia doesn’t look satisfied, neither of the Butch brothers are impressed, Serves With Faith has made his opinion clear, I doubt old Simon is convinced, and I myself am not especially moved by your display of generosity."

Francisco lay back on the grass between the two stumps. "Do something convincing and do it now."

Max watches the display stoically, obviously having a hard time with it all. He turned to the two challengers. "Well, if you wish to do another challenge, perhaps one that the remainder of the pack decides on, by majority decision?. Or an impartial challenge decided on by the Rite Master?. Then, I will withdraw my challenge and pledge service to the winner, who will have earned their place as Alpha."

Stone Biter nodded to Rory. "I will talk to Karl, and see what he has to say about this challenge of ours." She headed off to find the Master of Challenges.

As Stone Biter caught up with the Master of Challenges, she explained the situation. Karl frowned and said, "I don’t know who brought you up, but you are the winner of the challenge. The conditions of the challenge end when the challenge is resolved. This prevents grudges from forming. We live on the edge of our rage enough everyday to fight the Wyrm. When we fight each other, the contests are to be quick and they are to be decisive. Otherwise in your case, two days from now if you lose control, someone would say you lost the challenge are not alpha. You became the winner of the challenge when the Fianna passed out into the snow with vomit all over him. The Ragabash should have fun with that one."

He looked Stone Biter very squarely in the eyes and said plainly – so plainly that it made her shiver more than any shout could, "It sounds like you don’t want to be alpha. If you didn’t want to be, you should have never made the challenge. You better make up your mind and fast. Like it or not right now you are the alpha, start acting like it. If you don’t your pack will suffer and death might be the easiest fate they could suffer. I will not approve any other challenge between you and the Fianna on this. If in a month, he wishes to challenge you again he may. Now do your pack some good and go back to them and start acting like your ball busting sisters and take control. You earned it."

Stone Biter returned from her time with the Master of Challenges, looking subdued, but determined. She looked her pack over one by one, her face passive. "It is done. The challenge has been made, accepted, and witnessed. I have won. I am your Alpha. Like it or not, that’s the way it is. Now you can accept that, and we can get on with our life as a pack, you can challenge me, and we will see the Master of Challenges together, or you can sit back and make trouble and whine, in which case I will certainly throat you. So that’s the way it stands. Anyone want to challenge me for my position?" Her dark eyes glittered as she glares at each pack member in turn.

Rory smiled as Stone Biter returned. Somehow he suspected that the Get would force Stone Biter to take the Alpha position. Now all that remained to be seen was how well she handled it. At least he had a better idea now about the make-up of the rest of his pack. As Stone Biter glared at him, he remained cool. "Aye, ye’ve got my support, lass," he said. "At least so long as ye do by me an’ the rest of the pack fine. Fail that, an’ ye’ll face me again." His smile took the sting out of the words, and it was clear he harboured no resentment at his loss.

When Stone Biter came back with the announcement that she was the pack’s Alpha, Francisco snorted out loud. "Fine, let the dog have her day." He brushed the snow off a tree stump and sat down. "Fine, fine, fine." He cast his eyes over to Max and shook his head very slightly.

When Stone Biter finished her speech, Francisco walked up to Rory. "What happened there, Irish?" he asked. "You had it in the bag. What did you do? Thanks to that masterful move we’ve got an Alpha who can’t keep her claws in her fingers for five minutes. I thought this was supposed to be a Wisdom pack." Francisco glanced over to the other Garou and the caern, somewhere through the trees. "I’ve got to get out of this nuthouse," he murmured to himself. "Get back where things make sense."

Stone Biter growled softly at Francisco’s words, but reined in her temper. It was a Ragabash’s place to say the things others did not. She would prove nothing by anger, but only by deeds. She let her Rage sink down once more, uncurling her fingers from the tight fists they had become, and let it slide.

Hole Sniffer stopped scratching her ear to listen to Stone Biter. After a moment of thought, she decided Stone Biter would make a fine Alpha. She just needed experience and confidence. At an appropriate time, the husky trotted over to lick the new Alpha’s hand.

Smiling, Stone Biter accepted Hole Sniffer’s obeisance. It seemed strange, she was unused to being dominant, but she would have to adapt. "Thank you, Hole Sniffer." she said simply, acknowledging the gesture.

06 January 2010, 10:00 PM

It had been a long day. Rory and Stone Biter dealt with their hangovers the best way they could, mostly by sleeping. However, the three Ragabash in the sept didn’t make it easy for Rory. Every once and a while they would wake him up and say things like, "Did you hear about the Fianna who couldn’t hold his liquor?"

The rest of the pack fumed somewhat at the decisions of the challenge. The homids still not being fully used to leadership choices being decided by contests rather than merits. The lupus, while used to contests, were unused to how complicated it could get.

The day passed into evening and Luna rose above the trees. Soon some kinfolk showed up to keep watch as the Garou tended to matters of the moot. There was a light, sombre mood as the sept gathered. Soon the elders approached and came into the circle and then Shadow’s Whisper gave the opening howl and the rest joined in. Algeron then stepped into the circle and said, "Tonight is not a full formal moot. We have reasons to celebrate. We also have grievances to settle. First, we will deal with the unpleasantries of grievances." Algeron gave Rory a hard look that left no doubt in the Ahroun’s mind of its intent. If he so much as hurt a hair on Ann’s head, the Sept Leader would hunt him down forever.

Karl Banemasher stepped up and said, "It seems like today has been a day of challenges. Now the grievance to be settled is between Anna and Rory, and Anna chose combat. However, not all combats need to draw blood or kill. So as is my right, I have decided to make ruling on this challenge as it is in the best interest of the sept. The combat weapons are five hard packed snowballs. You will stand 25 paces from each other, which I have already measured out." He pointed to an area in the snow, twin heaps of snowballs stood opposite each other. "Who ever hits the other more times wins. However if at the end of five snowballs no hits have been made, the first open hand slap to the face and the face only wins. You may take no other form than homid and you may not use any gifts." He looked directly at Rory. "To your areas and let the challenge begin."

Rory breathed a sigh of relief as the conditions of the combat were announced. He wasn’t sure he could take Anna in a fight without hurting her or the child, and Algeron’s look said he would not be welcome in this sept for very much longer if he did. Anna, however, had no such constrictions, and being a Shadow Lord, probably wouldn’t hesitate to use that to her advantage.

Walking to his position in the field, he carefully re-arranged the snowballs to his liking, three on his right, and two on his left. This would allow him to throw more rapidly. As the call to begin came, Rory simply stood ready. He held a snowball in his hand, but did not throw, waiting for Anna’s first shot. He would wait for her to throw first, then return fire. Getting the last shot would give him a slight advantage, as she simply could not move as quickly as she could if she weren’t pregnant.

Hole Sniffer eyed the snowball contest with confusion. There was no challenge here, not as she understood it. Frankly, it looked like a game.

Both Anna and Rory moved to their marks with little to say. It was the classical case of two Ahrouns getting ready to do battle. As Rory arranged his snowballs, Anna quickly picked up two of hers and one after the other they quickly flew at Rory.

Rory tried to dodge out of the way of the first one, but it clipped him in the shoulder, stinging left in its wake. These snowballs were a little closer to iceballs. Rory came back up from the first dodge attempt, only to get smacked in the face with Anna’s second shot. Smarting at the pain from the shot, Rory let loose with a shot of his own, watching it skirt the edge of Anna’s hair.

The sept members cheered, hooted and hollered as the snowballs flew. It was a challenge to resolve a slight, but they seemed determine to have some fun anyway. Killen and the Ragabash seemed to be cheering extensively for Rory, perhaps feeling a bit sympathetic to his earlier loss in the drinking contest.

The miss of his own shot, and the blood trickling down his face ignited Rory’s rage. His arm blurring into action, he picked up his second snowball and fired, calculating Anna’s movements as she dodged the first throw. As she tried to roll out of the way, she ended up rolling directly into the second throw as it struck her upper thigh. Growling, she grabbed a third snowball and threw, but Rory ducked to one side, and the shot went wide.

Killen let out a loud cheer. Perhaps there are others who felt the same way Rory did.

As Anna rose, Rory moved to throw his third. He slipped in the snow, going to one knee as it flew wide of Anna. She grinned, taking full advantage of Rory’s disadvantage and hit him squarely in the chest with the ice ball with her fourth shot.

Anna meant to continue the barrage with her last snowball, but Rory rolled and grabbed his first. Coming to his feet, he spun and threw, forcing Anna to abort going for her next. Anna twisted and the iceball passed scant inches from her nose. Rory growled at the near miss and a big "Ohhh" escapes the gathered crowed.

Rory knew now just from the mathematics, that he couldn’t win, but he was determined to go out with a show and he strongly threw his last iceball at Anna. She ducked, but it still clipped her in the shoulder. She growled, throws her last and it slipped out of her hand before she meant to throw it and it went way wide.

Karl called out, "Claws of Night is the winner!" There were some slight howlings for her victory, as she walked over to Rory and said, "It is important to remember your place." Her body language radiated superiority as she waited for the traditional deference to the winner of a challenge.

Rory lifted his chin, gritting his teeth, and exposing his throat. It would be a simple matter for her to shift to Crinos at this point and tear his throat out if she so chose, but the same tradition that demanded he submit demanded that she accept that deference with good grace. Out of the corner of his eye, Rory saw some of the elder Garou nodding approvingly.

As the challenge started, Francisco stood at the back of the crowd, uninterested in the proceedings. When the match began and the attention of everyone was held, he turned and walked out of the clearing, into the woods. After he had gone out of earshot he stopped and lets himself drop into the snow. He lay back, staring up at the moon through the trees, and tried to commune with nature, and all of the other bizarre stuff they taught him back in New York. He tried to calm himself down and ignore all the foolish stuff that's been going on.

Suddenly his ears caught a faint sound. Holding his breath, he listened closer. At a few minutes, he could swear that it belongs to a baby’s cry. The cry was very weird, because he knew that it quite a distance away – further than normal hearing would allow, yet, it sounded as if it were upstairs in a house while he is downstairs. After a few moments, the crying sound faded away.

In the main large group Algeron spoke, "Our first celebration is a new pack in our sept. The Pack of the Storm, led by Stone Biter. They successfully completed a task for me. Although the task itself was minor, they faced a greater challenge returning. I will let Stone Biter, tell the tale of their combat with the Wyrm."

Stone biter steps forward, her adrenaline pumping with the exciting contest. True, it wasn’t a battle of claws and fangs, but it had its own tension. She was sorry that her packmate had lost, but pleased that no one had been unduly injured. Then she moved to the storyteller’s place, and began to relate the tale of the book and the battle that cost them their Alpha.

She tried to spice up the telling, to add tension and flow, but most of the early tale is somewhat tame, and she tells it quickly and concisely. But when the fomor attack, then she begins to sing, in a clear and crystal voice, the song that she has fashioned about the event.

"....The Wyrm the clarions to battle did sound. Cubs fought like warriors with weapons of silver. Thunder in their hands they carried, to hurl against Gaia’s children. Armoured in evil they were, and fearsome beside, but rage fuelled our claws. Darkness as an ally did descend, to hide our vengeance. Claws flashed! Teeth sank deep! The fomor died!"

"But Gaia’s Children paid valour’s price. Upon the ground, noble blood was spilled. Drops of Crimson, Mother's tears, the Silver fang is laid low. Weep for the fallen! Mother welcome Illia Moon Shadow! Mother comfort Illia Moon Shadow. Fallen in your service. Fallen to defend the world from evil! Let his name be remembered! Honour to the fallen!"

When she had finished, she howled out her anger at the loss of one of Gaia’s own, a loud and ringing call to the moon that a brave warrior was now among the spirits.

Unable to keep silent for her dead packmate, Hole Sniffer let out a long lonely howl, dropping an octave to make a weird harmony.

After Stone Biter’s song, the entire Sept howled in anger and grief to the fallen of Gaia. It was always hard to contain such emotions. Many take Crinos form, except for the Silver Fangs of the sept, who took it somewhat stoically. Perhaps they had developed a wall against the angst that the Wyrm brings as the leaders of the garou. Perhaps they grieved in other ways.

When the Garou had calmed down, Algeron spoke again, "We also celebrate the coming of age tonight. Although they did not know it, Rahl and Gee of the Get of Fenris faced a Rite of Passage. For months now, before arriving here they have faced things alone, depending on each other more than anything. A truly noble manner, however, as each of us becomes Garou, our world expands, and our need to expand with it, grows. Especially in these days when there are less of us. For each of us, our Rites of Passage are different. Some harder, some easier. Some planned, some spontaneous, but each marks an important turning in our lives. For you each, being born so close together, learning to depend on others willing was the last lesson you needed to learn before you could be considered an adult. I acknowledge both of your ranks of cliath."

Hooting and hollering sounded through the assembled Sept.

"In meeting the challenges of last night, Gee was brought to the edge of death and in doing so took his first battle scar," continued Algeron. Karl Banemasher approached, being the eldest Get in the Sept and slapped Gee hard on the shoulder. "May the blood of Valhalla’s heroes run through you and your kin as you continue to fight in the vanguard of Gaia’s army." This said, Karl gave Gee a vicious headbutt. Gee, according to Get of Fenris tradition, returned the blow. Karl let out a big laugh and then howled, with the rest of the sept joining in.

Algeron’s face grows sombre and then he says, "Lastly we celebrate the life of our fallen. Illia Rapmanovitch, Moon Shadow. As Stone Biter indicated, he died in combat. Let us not mourn though, for he will be reborn in Gaia’s cycle. Let us celebrate to honour his courage, his bravery and his sacrifice." Algeron let out a howl that is mournful, yet somehow bright. The message was clear: Beware Wyrm, for even in the land of the departed, Gaia’s warriors hunt you.

Shadow’s Whisper starts a low chant that the rest of the Silver Fangs continue. Algeron and three of the other silver fangs picked up a nearby litter with the shrouded body of Illia on it. Shadow’s Whisper led the sept to the Grave of Hallowed Heroes and Illia was laid to rest. One final howl was given by Shadow’s Whisper, and the rest of the Sept remained silent in respect, except for the newly created Pack of the Storm, who howled longer and louder than the Ritemistress.

Algeron led the procession back to the moot circle and a revel of a race was called to re-energise the spiritual essence of the caern. The chase led most of the way by Misteyes, the Stargazer Keeper of the Land, brought the Sept around most of the large Sebago lake. When a short three hours remain before dawn, many have fallen, including all of The Pack of the Storm except Rory, Stone Biter, and surprisingly, Francisco. An hour later, only Misteyes, Rory, Stone Biter and the two silver fangs from the Pack of Gaia’s Heart remain in the revel. As the sun dawned over the protectorate, Misteyes reached a hilltop that looks down over the caern as the sun beamed in, reflecting off the snow. Rory and Stone Biter, having barely kept up, dropped at his feet. The old man was tough, as he didn’t even seem to be winded. He smiled a gentle smile as the two younger garou fall. He walked towards the centre of the caern and said, "Remember in all your rage, do not become so consumed by the fight with the Wyrm that you do not stop and look around and enjoy what it is that you are fighting for." His arms extended wide indicating all that was around them, which was magnificently beautiful.

Overcome, Rory and Stone Biter passed out in exhaustion.