Everything

Grass-on-the-Savannah, Ragabash Silent Strider I don't know how long I ran. Weeks, maybe, or months. Coerced by the smoke and pain, the Umbra opened its arms to me, and I gladly accepted its embrace, with flames and death nipping at my heels and invading my dreams. I didn't want to go back there, back to a caern blackened with ashes, smelling sour like blood and burnt flesh and chemicals. If I had, something would have shattered inside me and I didn't know if I could put it back together. No, staying behind to fight alone wouldn't bring back the sept I'd come to love, or dry my eyes.

I'd heard an old Fianna tale once, of great Garou heroes who slumbered in times of peace until Gaia needed them once more. I was clearly no hero and this wasn't a time of peace, but I scoured the Umbra for a spirit that could teach me anyway. Between peaks that stretched into the sky I ran, and stole through Luna's shadow like a whisper whenever the stench of oil threatened my path. And whenever I slept, I could hear the voices of the fallen, growling at me.

Coward, they said, and deserter. All you ever do is run away. Run. Run. Run. And they were right. So that's what I did. I wondered if I would find them somewhere, newly born ancestors. I wondered if they would hate me.

But I didn't find them. In time, I came instead to a vast yawning cavern under purple skies. The moon and stars were milky and distant. A faint whiff of honeysuckle floated across the twilit mountains. As soon as my paws touched the smooth, packed earth of the cave, I knew my search had ended. Bright eyes pierced the darkness inside to measure me. “New Moon warrior,” came the low rumble from the den's depths, in the language of the Wild. “You have traveled far to reach me.”

“I have.” “I see the dust of many roads under your claws. I see the signs of sleepless nights. Have you come to hide here, werewolf? Or to beg a favor?”

I swallowed my pride and stilled my desperate thoughts, putting on a nonchalant tone. “In fact, I've come to do one for you.” A massive, furry black shape rose out of the murk then, with thundering footsteps. Bear's avatar was at least twice my size, so I grinned with my teeth to show him I was neither cowed nor humbled.

“Is that so.” His black fur smelled of sweet fermented berries and dust, and his eyes spoke of quiet suspicion. He moved his enormous head down closer to mine.

“You doubt me?” I didn't back off, instead pacing back and forth right under his nose. “Tell me, then. Would you deny that long years of solitude weary you? Of course, you wouldn't.” I barely took a breath between thoughts, giving him no opportunity to reply. “You're a loner, I understand, but no one — spirit or otherwise — thrives on boredom. Right? Right. The salmon-spirits you hunt day by day are hardly much for witty conversation, after all, so it's a good thing I came along, isn't it!” I paused, coming closer to him as though I had some private secret to divulge. “I can tell you're out of practice, you know. But don't worry! I'm willing to help out,” I assured him with a slight wag of my tail.

He finally opened his toothy muzzle at that point, blinking, so I carried on quickly. I almost had him. “No, there's no need to thank me, I'm only too happy to provide company and a bit of repartee. Well, if you insist, I could accept a small token in return. Oh! Here's an idea: we'll play at riddles to keep you sharp, and if I win, you can teach me the secret of long slumber. What do you say?”

He grunted in the sudden silence where my deluge of words had been. “I suppose–”

I sat down in a small puff of dust, gesturing with a paw, and dipping my head. “I accept! That's very generous of you. Shall we begin?”