Do not fear me, young one. I am a friend of all those whom Falcon calls His own.

Train Tracks
Little more than a break in the lush thickness of the surrounding forest, a set of railway lines make their hesitant way east and west. Woodland dirt and underbrush gives reluctantly over onto gravel, and then to the rusted iron bars themselves; the wood lengths that bridge the span between them at intervals are gnarled and cracked with age, some looking uncomfortably rotten. Long, spiky weeds shoot up defiantly between and amongst the wood and metal, proclaiming clearly that this particular length of track has suffered some disuse in recent times. The sounds here are as soft and natural as anywhere else, and insects make their unhurried ways from flower to stalk unconcerned by the ancient construction.
The beginnings of various small paths twist off through the forest to the north and to the south.

It's a bright, sunny day, with a light breeze, the first time in about a week that it's actually been pleasurable to be outside. Blackriver is in crinos, near the train tracks, giving Erika a rundown on all the glyphs Garou use. She draws each glyph, explains its use and meaning, and then lets the Galliard try to imitate the drawing, forcing her to draw it over until she gets it right. There's a good fifty well and crudly drawn glyphs carved into the dirt around the two Garou. Looks like they've been at it for a while.

The lesson is interrupted by the sound of an echoing wolf-howl that drifts through the trees, from a point further down the abandoned railroad track to the west. Hear this! it calls. Hear this! I seek she who has marked this territory as hers! I seek the alpha of the first ones!

Walks-Ahead startles and looks up from her lesson, pacing back and forth and glancing anxiously at her mentor.

Lightning(#2777Pc)
This wolf's coat is so pure white that it seems more like an absence of colour than a colour in itself. Set him against winter or arctic snow and his camouflage would be superb; only his black nose and his golden eyes might spoil the effect, and perhaps the pink tongue which now and again lolls out when he opens his jaw to pant and to reveal teeth of a whiteness that rivals his pelt. The purity of his coat is reinforced by the thickness and the neat grooming of his fur, the wolf evidently being in the prime of life and well able to take care of himself both in a fight and in matters of self-maintenance. He moves about with total confidence, as though unlike most of his kind he has never seen the world as a threat but more as his personal domain, an attitude reinforced by the way in which his ears stand pointed and upright and his tail flags in a raised, dominant pose. Certainly the wolf's whole air is that of a noble creature who is aware of, and pleased with, his own nobility.
Carrying:
Klaive(#3507)
>>>>>Lightning just looked at me. Another devoted fan!

Blackriver's ears perk up, and she lets out a return howl. Something to the effect that she is coming, and the first caller should stay where he is. She shifts down into lupus, tail wagging twice in excitment, and lopes off towards the howl, signaling with a flick of her ears that Walks-Ahead should follow.

The cub imitates Blackriver in shifting into wolf form, and trots along to keep up a position at the larger wolf's flank.

It doesn't take long as the lupus canters along the tracks before a white dot hoves into sight, evidently the source of the howl. He's standing facing them, midway between the tracks, stock-still and alert, waiting. He lets out one further wuff as he sees two of his owk kind approaching, but doesn't go to meet them, preferring to remain where he is as bidden by the owner of the territory he is presently standing upon.

Blackriver picks up her pace as the other wolf is spotten, ears cupping forward and tail raising up. She pauses about a yard away from him, and draws in a quick breath of air before closing the final gap of distance. Swims-the-Black-River, she introduces herself, cliath Half-moon and elder of the First Tribe here. Alpha of Wildfire under the honorable Wyvern, whose territory you are on. Pup of Fireclaws, pup of Seeks-Raven, adren and alpha judge at the Crescent Moon sept. Her ears flick once and she looks at the stranger expectantly, head tilting slightly to the side.

The smaller white wolf keeps a position behind Blackriver, her tail held submissively low. When the Philodox addresses the newcomer, the cub sits down on her haunches, looking back and forth between the elder Silver Fangs with her tongue dangling out of her open mouth.
Lightning sizes Blackriver up as she nears him, his own posture not conceding dominance to hers. The two stand nose to nose for a long moment as he introduces himself in return. Strikes-as-Suddenly-as-Lightning-from-a-Clear-Sky, pup of Singed-Whiskers, pup of Licks-her-Plate-Clean. Song-moon and fostern of the First Tribe, and the chosen one of Falcon whose appointed path I have followed here. And suddenly his tail ratchets down and his ears flatten somewhat. Though I bear greater rank than you in the Nation, yet this is your territory and you are Elder at this sept, and so for this time and this place I defer to you. While this exchange takes place he barely spares the smaller and obviously lesser-ranked wolf a glance.

Blackriver's tail inches a centimeter higher, and she sniffs carefully at Lightning. Introduce yourself, she intructs the cub to her side with a glance, attenttion mostly on the Fostern in front of her. Why do you howl? She asks.

Walks-Ahead comes forward as bidden. She is very small for an arctic wolf, under eighty pounds, and wiry muscles can be seen to tense and relax under her coat as her large paws skip over the gravel and train track ties. She comes to a halt just behind Blackriver and to her left, ears perked but head drooped and tail down in proper submissive form. One is called Always-Walks-Ahead, a Galliard and a Silver Fang cub. With a sidelong glance at Blackriver, the cub takes a few nervous steps backwards.

Lightning ducks his head away from Blackriver and examines the smaller cub, sauntering towards her hindquarters and (possibly to her discomfiture if she is unused to lupus-form greetings) pushing his nose in close to her rear end. Well met, Always-Walks-Ahead. Your auspice is mine. Perhaps one day I may teach you, if the elder permits. He turns back to that elder. I howl for you, he informs her, because you are alpha of our tribe here and because it is fitting that I, a new arrival, should introduce myself to you. For Falcon sent me here, as he has sent me to other septs, and my duty is to offer my services to the tribe here and to the sept as a whole.

Blackriver licks her nose, and shifts her weigh arond on her legs, eyeing Lightning carefully, a tad bit uncomfotable. Do you wish to offer chimminage and join Hidden Walk? Or do you wish to stay here as a guest?

The cub shies away from the larger wolf at first, then stiffens and allows the newcomer to complete his inspection, sniffing nervously at his mane. When his attention turns once more to Blackriver, the cub tucks her tail loosely between her legs and takes a few steps back before her posture somewhat relaxes.

Lightning keeps his head ducked under Blackriver's. I will offer chiminage and stay for so long as Falcon commands me to stay. Will you set me a task or a duty? Or should I refer to the sept elder for that?

Blackriver indicates that she will set chimminage. Plopping down on her haunches, the Philodox licks her whiskers and makes a soft huffing noise. What can you offer us? She asks.
Walks-Ahead paces back and forth behind Blackriver, her paws barely clearing the train tracks, ears flitting back and forth nervously.

Lightning sits down, also, when Blackriver does, and not before. He turns his head briefly to watch the cub pacing. Do not fear me, young one, he urges her gently. I am a friend of all those whom Falcon calls His own. Then to Blackriver he replies, I can teach. I can fight. I can guard. I can tell a story on two legs or on four. I know many of the gifts that spirits show us. I even know a rite or two although they are not so much my forte. And I bear a spirit-weapon that was surrendered to me by Grandfather Thunder's tribe when its previous keeper confessed that I was worthier to bear it than he.

Blackriver's ears strain forward in curiosity, tail swishing back and forth once across the grass before coming around to curl on top of her forepaws. What is the fetish?

Walks-Ahead chuffs twice, and sits back on her haunches, her right hindleg coming up to scratch her ear.

Lightning somehow manages to convey a glow of superior pride in his posture even while remaining inferior to Blackriver. It is a klaive, borne previously by the Shadow Lords.

Blackriver lets out a soft chuff, she's impressed. I would not ask you to give up such a thing for chiminage. She decides out-loud. So I ask this. There is another cub of our tribe here, Dancer-of-Memory, who is getting close to the time of his Rite of Passage. He has few things left to learn, including the duties of his auspice sign, the gibbous moon. Teach him. I would ask you to teach Always-Walks-Ahead as well, but she is still new to the Garou, and it would take too long.

Walks-Ahead huffs again, and lays down in the broken shale-grey railroad rock.

Lightning twitches an ear. I am not the sort, he states with a slightly peeved air, to carry out chiminage and then to consider my duties done. I will always teach Falcon's children who need to be taught, cub or adult. Where is Dancer-of-Memory? When would you have him Rite?

Blackriver's lips curl back half an inch, revealing the tips of some very pointy teeth. I would expect you to teach the cubs of our tribe, regardless of what is asked of you. But I do not expect you to teach Walks-Ahead all she needs to know as your chimminage, because it would take too long. I do expect you to teach her after, because she if a cub of your tribe with your moon sign. Blackriver tries to explain, somewhat annoyed herself. Dances-Memory is in the mountains near the place the Wendigo claim as theirs, and at the den the cubs live at. He will Rite when he is ready, and no sooner. But if you teach him, he should be ready soon. He is quick to learn.

Walks-Ahead lays down in the scree and gravel, her tongue lolling out again in a dopey grin.

Lightning drops down to his belly. Your pardon, elder. I am homid-born and do not always understand well the way that my sisters born of wolf communicate. If I have caused annoyance, I crave your pardon. I did not intend any, no, no. I will find this other cub and teach him, teach him well. Do you wish me to set him his Rite task, or will you yourself retain that duty?

Blackriver flicks her ears in though, and she cants her head to the side. I will. She decides, but you will tell me when you think he is ready, and then I will go and see if I agree. A pause. I will be teaching things too of course. She adds, Non-Galliard things. He still must see the umbra, and to do that he must go to the caern.

Walks-Ahead's tongue still hangs out as her eyes glance back and forth between the elder Fangs, before being distracted by a flight of goldfinches that buzz by overhead.

Lightning's head pops back up and he looks up at Blackriver. As regards the caern, may I enter the bawn while I perform my chiminage? Child-Holder of the Black Furies has told me I am free from the Wyrm's scent.

Blackriver lets out a soft huff. I cannot decide that, only the Warder can, I will ask him if you may.

Walks-Ahead gazes back to her elders, tilting her head in contemplation.

I will not go where I am not welcome, the fostern demurs. I do not come here to stride into the sept and impose my will on it, Silver Fang though I am. The First Tribe cannot defeat the Wyrm by itself. But with the others at our shoulders, then we will. he turns to Walks-Ahead. And even the youngest garou will play their part in its defeat, he tells her with an encouraging thump of his tail.

Blackriver smooths back her whiskers with her tongue, and sniffs the air crisply, not one to be impressed by pretty words. Do you know the rite to give cubs when they are ready to be tested? She asks idly, ears flicking once.

Walks-Ahead's ears flit forward, suddenly more attentive to the elder Garou's exchange.

Lightning puts his head back on his paws. I do not. Such rites are more common among half-moons.

Blackriver chews idly on a forepaw, and flicking her ears in an 'okay'.

Walks-Ahead gets up from where she lays on the gravel, wandering off into some goldenrod and heavy-grained heads of grass that grow on the railroads shoulder. There are a few small tunnels there, the entrances about the size of a wolf's paw, and the cub begins to sniff at one of these that is haloed with fresh dirt.

Lightning turns his head to watch the cub. What have you found, young wolf? he asks, nose twitching a little.

Blackriver idly watches Walks-Ahead, jaw opening slightly, and then turns to sniff at a clump of grass near her feet.

Walks-Ahead sniffs at the tunnels some more, arching her neck proudly with her tail stiff out behind her. Ground squirrels. Male and female. With a hoard of nuts! The cub whines a bit, and starts digging at the sod around the nearest hole.

Lightning rises to his feet and walks over to the holes. You will not find your dinner by digging, no, no. They dig themselves deep and safe. If you want to catch one it is best to lurk by the hole, downwind so they do not smell you, and then pounce when they come out.

Blackriver stands up and stretches, yawning and showing off her healthy pink gums and sharp white teeth. Shifting her weight stiffly from one paw to another, she walks forward a few feet and peers at the two conversing Galliards.

Walks-Ahead growls down the hole in frustration, then prances around excitedly. That would take forever!

Lightning stretches his front paws out in a playful manner. Try it, try it and see! he invites. You will go hungry if you dig. I must go now and find the others I need to see, the sept alpha and the Warder, if Blackriver does not see him first. And of course, Dancer-of-Memory. I look forward to teaching him. The male wolf turns away, ducks his head once more to Blackriver respectfully, and trots off in the opposite direction from the caern.