basts_tail

Hi everyone.

This post is a story that belongs to me and a bunch of New England, Australias players. I know not everyone on my journal is a Werewolf, fan, but i'm hoping you will enjoy this - it made for an absolutly rocking scene.

TEACHING AN OLD PACK WITH A NEW PUP:
The Sundered Claw & River-Ever-Changing Story.

Written By: Shannon Keniry, Crystal Plowman, Beth Tobin & Conrad White.
Additional Input & Approval: Tim Cluley, Joel Gilleland, & Tiffany Williams

The girl has been wandering aimlessly after jumping down from the train passing Broken Hill. She moves in something of a crouch, peering through her hair, hiding in scrub, and only sleeping occasionally. She mutters at things, like she's talking to someone, and has nightmares. When she wakes up, she peers into the dark, looking at something and growls at it. She never really stops moving, always travelling, always hiding.

She's dressed in ragged clothes, and a tee shirt, through which an ugly scar on her shoulder can be seen. One of her dreams is about it, and she screams when she wakes. She hides from most people, and lets no one close enough to catch her.

* * * * *

The pack had been running for five long hours, scenting through the hisil. Strikes-From-Behind had caught wind of the rumour a week ago in the western plains and it had dragged the pack behind it all the way to outback NSW. An impressive weather spirit was at large out here somewhere; perhaps it would be impressive enough to bind to the pack – a cause worth calling hunt for.

Wairua, ears twitching and tail low, falters at the head of the pack, sliding to a stiff-legged halt. "We stop here" he declares swinging his broad head about "the trails faded out again. We stop, scout out the area, and look for a lead."

The pack fans itself out, slipping from the hisil into the material, the gauntlet opening to an outback sky streaked orange in the dusk. It is surprisingly green for a place with such dry air.

"You know" Dark-River-Walker muses staring out at the horizon "We should hit the town. It's been ages since I've been through Broken Hill. The humans have a 'Silver Trail' here, takes you past all things important to a human"

"You're such a bloody tourist" Blitz-Hund growls irritably in the first tongue, too lazy to assume hishu form. Dropping to her stomach in the dry grass and resting her head on outstretched front legs as she rolls her eyes up at her packmates.

"Heh" Dark responds, dusting herself down and flipping the collar of her red-checked shirt up "you just don't appreciate my special style of cunning; there will be easy eats in the town. Easy! Buggered if I'm going to run down a rabbit tonight."

At that, Bites-Winds rouses himself "Food?" he queries muzzle wrinkled against the mechanical stench blowing from the west, still in urshul for reasons of his own.

"Yes food, you moron."

"Hmmm… I always thought you were 'special'" Strikes mocks Dark "never thought you would admit it openly though" he taunts ducking a violent retaliation and tripping over Blitz in the grass.

"If we could turn our attention back to the matter at hand" Wairua demands returning to his hishu form and looming gruffly over the near dog-pile.

"Food first" Dark grins, giving cheek as she steps forward and follows the rail tracks westward towards Broken Hill train station "Food and a beer and then we can get back to work."

"Well" Strikes says shrugging to Wairua "It smells wet west, and it's as good a direction as any."

* * * * *

They'd been whispering to her all day, and the big storm trying to scare her. She growled at it, but it just laughed and uprooted trees to throw, knowing she was too small to hurt it.

Then she sensed it, and the spirits all looked around, and she knew.... it was them. She knew that scent, that feeling and she ran, some of the spirits whispering, 'go here, and hide there'. She kept moving for as long as she could, and came to the outskirts of a town, largely abandoned, and stealthily hid in one of the buildings.

* * * * *

They left the local watering hole much later that night, bellies full of food and for some, beer. Trusting in the Bone Shadow's suggestion, they headed toward the smell of damp air - now moved slightly North by winds.

"You know," began Wairua, the New Zealander accent still thick despite the years, "that was a bad thing we did just then. I should think that we should be all ashamed."

"The meal? We'd been running all day. We deserved a break."

The Maori snorted a stifled laugh. "That too - but no, the not catching our own food was not what I meant."

Dark, Blitz and Strikes looked up quizzically at the giant man as they walked, still uncomfortable from the large meal out of the town. Catching their look, he replied "The dictum has to be revered and upheld, and we made a spectacle of ourselves back there. Luna would be ashamed of us."

To the further confused look, this time by all, he continued "I do believe that no human ever displayed table manners like those displayed by you, Dark. And Blitz, no human being is actually capable of drinking a miner (being inhuman in themselves) under the table - let alone five of them - and German heritage is *not* an acceptable excuse. Strikes, fashionable as you were, you stuck out like a sore thumb amongst those mining men. That, and no matter how otherwise I am measured, somehow near 8 foot tall does not suit the 'We're miners from shaft eighty-seven' cover story. We may not have directly revealed our existence, but we certainly aroused suspicion."

Blitz responded by belching loudly, the sheer force of the rattled expulsion rippled like a shock wave through her mane of hair and echoed amongst the sheds in the distance as they crossed the western outskirts of town. "Best T-bone not cooked by me," she added. "That and the beer counter-curses the transgression in my opinion."

The pack sniggered together, and as they kept walking, chatted about the post meal pool game where miners unaware of werewolf stamina thought the young Jennifer and Bites-Winds easy drunkard marks. Nearly out of town, and the meals nearly digested due to their post repast constitutional, they scanned around them for anyone following or onlooking, so as when assured of being alone they can shift and renew the hunt.

Wairua stoped suddenly and closed his eyes. As the pack stopped to look, he tilted his head to the right and drew a deep breath through the nose. Almost on cue, the others did too, smelling what he smelt, and not understanding, look quizzically at the massive Maori.

"Moths," he almost whispered as one of his eyes suddenly becomes pitch black lit only by pin-pricks of stars reflected. The others, knowing now that he sees in both worlds make the conscious efforts to shift their senses into the Hisil. Their vision into the spirit world showed little activity, the spirits dormant and making up the inactive landscape around them - all except for a moth spirit moving away from them.

"So there are moths," says Bites-Wind in a demeaning manner. "It's night. Moths come out at night. Night, moths, moth spirit. If you are interrupting us for an entomology lesson, I'm really not interested or impressed."

"Dark-River-Walker," Wairua commanded her attention by using her full deed name. "Please judge that moth-spirit before it leaves the vicinity."

The country-tomboy clothed girl furrowed her brow for a moment, her look in the material world making it clear that she was looking at something hidden. The furrows ceased as an eyebrow was raised and she reported to the whole pack, "It's hiding something. It's running away to hide something from us."

"That's what I thought." His eyes returned to normal and he looked at Bites-Wind. The others not seeing the milky eye in the shadow of the world, returned their sight to the real. "I smelled moths. Yes, normal for this time of night and year, but what got my attention is the sudden change of direction I smelled. The spirit. It sensed us. Sensed us and suddenly changed direction. Now I am curious as to what it wants to hide from us."

Jennifer suggested asking or if uncooperative binding it, to which Dark replies, "We'd have to catch it first, and it's doing the barney as we yammer."

Wairua halted the rest of them as they almost leapt into pursuit. "I don't think it will play nice, and I can't ask or bind it on the run. Besides, who needs to when it's given us virtually everything we need to know."

Blitz smirked in understanding and explained, "It's running away to hide whatever it is from us, so we go in the opposite and we find whatever it was hiding. It's obviously something it doesn't want us seeing or having, so it's definitely Forsaken business - all we have to do is be careful on the approach, be wary, and not let whatever it is or anything else know we found it."

Everyone else looked to the young Jennifer and Bites-Wind, stealthy approaches being their speciality and area of coordination in the pack.

* * * * *

She had indicated that the rest should remain, or if they followed to do so at a distance, and a rendezvous point was set while Bites and herself scouted the lay of the land ahead. If the spirit was trying to keep something concealed then the scent would be tricky to follow and a non-abrasive approach might be called for.

Concealing her own trail as she hunted, they then lope off in the opposite direction of the moth spirit, following the scent it left in it's retreat - north west toward a near abandoned mining village. Making sure that as she did so her approach was concealed in both the Hisil and the normal world, moving as silent as possible, leaving no track and no scent for unfriendly eyes and nose to follow.

The scent of the moth spirit was faint and it dodged from place to place, almost erratically in its attempt to conceal its trail. Having done the same thing in her past Jennifer simply kept a track of where the trail faded and then fanned out to find that faint trace that told her where the trail began again.

Once or twice she ran across a scent that tickled the back of her brain. It was in some ways familiar, but she could not yet place it, but much though she wanted to hare off and investigate this new scent she was the newest member of the pack and thus she should do as she was told…

Still, she kept a mental track of where the moth spirits trail and this other trail crossed. It was unlikely that they were related, but never the less, if she lost the moth trail entirely she could always backtrack and pick up the other trail to see if the moth had used the other’s scent to hide its own.

She was hoping that Bites was having more luck when she hit the edge of the mining town and completely lost the scent of the moth spirit. It wasn’t just that it had done a sneaky dodge this time either. The trail had just faded into nothingness, too old and too faint for her to find any further trace of it along this line. She did however, scent another trace of the other. Stronger now and just as tantalising and familiar yet not familiar –as if she were remembering a voice from her past, of something she knew and yet someone she did not know, but could not quite place it and the tickling at her mind was becoming increasingly irritating.

The scent had something that called to her. And so she followed the other trail as far as it went... There was a building, like the ones around it too was broken down, abandoned and ruined. But it had more of what passed for a roof than many of the others. Treading even more softly and cautiously the inexperienced Irraka crept up to a small hole in the side of the building, where it look like the elements had finally won and subsidence had caused a rift in the wall that would mean that the entire façade would be collapsing. But that would probably not happen for a number of years yet and in the here and now it provided a convenient way to see what it was that she had followed.

There she saw a young girl, curled on her side, hiding from the world. Whether or not she was sleeping Jennifer could not tell. She was certainly lying very still. The girl’s jeans and t-shirt were tattered beyond just normal wear and tear. She looked as if she had not changed clothing in some months at least for they were filthy with dirt as well as slashed and ready to come apart at the seams.

Around her it was if the spirit world had gone crazy. She fazed in and out of the Hisil in ways that she did not quite understand. What she did understand was that this was a cub, about to go through that first all-important change and in far worse shape than she had been at that same time of life when her pack had found and taken her in.

This was beyond her expertise...

It was time to report back and get the others...

When she arrived back at her pack she told them in a quiet, diffident voice, what she had found. She was still not entirely certain that they would not take it amiss that she had not found what they were looking for and still apprehensive about her position in the pack.

She waited patiently for Wairua or the others to say what all the spirit stuff might be about and what they should do about the girl...

* * * * *

River dreamed, dozing, of storms and fear and the moon..... Something woke her, a familiar sense inside her, and she opened her eyes slits, willing herself to see in the dark. Her body did not move, and ... there. That was the sense. One of them was around.

After the feeling faded, she uncoiled herself, and softly padded off in the opposite direction....

* * * * *

The pack continued to argue, several of them leaping at the chance to taunt an unchanged cub. Jennifer remained silent, watching the huge Maori and Bites. They had taken cover in an abandoned building.

The group break up, Bites, Wairua heading for the door, Jen just behind them. They are almost at the door, when out of the shadows moves the girl......

Jen looks with sudden recognition, having just time to react to her presence..... Bites and Wairua have no time at all, as without warning, the girl sprints and springs, kicking into Bite's chest. He staggers off balance, surprised at the punch this girl pack for her size. Wairua grabs from behind and she flips him over her, slamming into Bites, both of them getting angry.

By now the rest of the pack have recovered from their surprise, and rush to help as Bites and Wairua shift reflexively to restrain the girl. She is faster than they expect, flexible, brutal, and part way through, it happens....

* * * * *

River was in a fugue, her mind recalling her training.... Sings-The-Fires-Truth..... and Her.... It was getting harder and harder, the moon shining down on her..... when a little voice in her mind spoke.... "you can do better than this little River-Ever-Changing.... just embrace it....."

* * * * *

Looking at the girl in the Hisil, Jennifer can see the change in the shadow warping around her, suddenly, and sucks in her breath, her eyes going wide.

At the same moment, River kicks into Wairua and sends him flying, as without warning, the foot in his chest grows as she shifts, howling, and following through the movement.

Her clothes shred to ribbons and she does not change at all in her fight method, the pack realising with dawning horror that her fighting technique strongly resembles Pure.

She freezes, making eye contact with Wairua, and in that moment, she feels the spirit encroaching.... and behind it... the scent of fear.....

Without warning she bolts, racing from the room, not stopping.....

* * * * *

Stunned, the pack picks themselves up and detangles slowly and careful not to further frustrate each other. As they are about to give chase, they realise the futility with how far the cub got in the mere moments they were down and sprawled amongst each other’s limbs and rages. Bites-Winds cupped a hand to his face and yells to the distant figure, “We only wanted to be your friend!”

Strikes-From-Behind groaned as his spirit shifts mass from his frame and he returns to a smaller shape. Now with a human mouth he complains bitterly about how the cub managed to hit him in all his old injuries. “I think,” he said pausing to pop his shoulder back into place with powerful grunt, “That someone had gotten to that cub before us.”

The thunder rumbled low and ominously behind him as he said so. Blitz growled long and low, almost in compliment to the atmosphere. Her wolf jaws making the awkwardness of spiteful pronunciation with interspersed words in her native tongue sound sinister, spat out, “Pure. Had their riechst. Fought like the gebrannt.”

“I think what we’re missing here is the point that we just got our asses handed to us by the equivalent of a snotty nosed kid,” commented Dark.

“I’ve got less experience.” said Jen softly as the first drops of rain started to hit the ground.

“And after all that,” said Bites-Winds, hunching his shoulders and holding out his hand to catch a drop, “It’s going to rain on us…”

The group grunted in agreement, shuffling their feet on the ground and hunched against the weather. Then Blitz, Strikes and Wairua looked at each other, Bites- Winds’ words echoing through their heads, the thought suddenly dawning on all of them. Feeling the change in mood of their pack mates, they all turn as one as the sky forks with lightning, ripping a seam open in the hisil, followed by a crash of thunder heralding the manifestation of the weather spirit they had been chasing. Guided by fear and essence, it no longer runs, and instead attacks the unsuspecting already weak Uratha. The last words heard are from the German werewolf before it blasts them with everything it has.

“Oh, Scheiße…”

* * * *

Far far away, under the light of the gibbous moon rising in the sky, River runs, a voice whispering in her head…. “I will find you little River-Ever-Changing”... and the scent of cold fear…