"...and before all the spirits of my ancestors do I give affirmation that this oath shall be kept..."

In the Swirling Wind
The rugged walls of the canyon grow narrower to the northeast, forcing the gusts of winds that it catches to rush down into this small clearing. Here the breezes meet with the drifting mists off the waterfall's spray, becoming swirling bits of haze that dance and whirl like merry ghosts. Occasionally, the canyon's rim pushes swifter air into the caern, breaking up the dance and sending the mists, scattered, back to their source.
The forest surrounding the caern's border is far less dense than the rest of the nearby forest. Scattered, centuries-old oaks stand majestically over their fallen, decaying, moss-covered comrades. This peculiarity seems to surround only the area just outside the caern.
Swirling in the area is some of the mist sprayed up by the waterfall to the south. To the west, a rock slab juts out of the ground at an angle. the caern's center is to the southwest; the rest of the valley extends northeast, toward the mountains.

It's flurrying down in the Caern, but nothing is really sticking for very long at all. It's just been too warm down in the low lands, lately, for any kind of serious accumulation, and so it's just been wet. Up in the mountains, one can see the clouds dump snow at a prodigious rate, but that's thanks to their higher altitude. Circle Keeper's checking back into the caern this cloudy afternoon, sniffing at this and that as he goes about his normal business. He's been down around the core of the bawn more often lately, making unhurried patrols through and around the important sites of the bawn.

Cedric has taken heed of the weather sufficiently to have exchanged his normal immaculate suit for a long, herringbone-weave overcoat. Even so, he's getting both wet and windblown sitting where he is, balanced on a flat ledge of rock, his legs dangling down, his dark golden hair whipping round in the gusts and squalls. The only attention he pays is to now and again raise one hand to his brow and clean his hair from his eyes; meantime, he's muttering something under his breath repetitively, and frowning, like an actor trying to memorise his lines.

Circle Keeper pauses at the windy spot, eyes almost immediately rounding out as the arctic wolf bores his gaze in on the relative stranger. His nostrils flare, and his hackles inch upward, but his temper seems to be kept in check after just a second, as he shakes the impending anger out of his posture easily. Guess the Gatekeeper remembers the other's introduction.

Cedric is either too focused upon his monologue to heed Circle Keeper, or else the white wolf is too well camouflage in this snowy weather. Or maybe it's a mixture of both. He brushes his wayward locks out of his face again, and keeps on muttering. A few words come to the Uktena's sharp ears: "...and before all the spirits of my ancestors do I give affirmation that this oath shall be kept..."

Circle Keeper's eyes go from rounded to narrowed, the Uktena applying a more sharp gaze to the Silver Fang. His ears perk forward as the arctic wolf struggles to make out what the stranger Silver Fang is doing.

"...and if... and if..." Cedric tails off with a frown, and shakes himself. He sits a little more upright on the rock, and as he does so, realises a wolf is watching him intently. His eyes, too, focus in on the other garou's. "Good afternoon," he says in his normal tone, "and how long have you been sittin' there watchin' me make a botch of things, hm?"

Circle Keeper remains there for a long moment, unblinkingly watching the other. When Cedric finally turns his attention to Circle Keeper, the Gatekeeper's posture tightens up, but he doesn't actually move from his spot, or from watching Cedric. Stranger. he states, bluntly.
The Uktena's comment is blunt enough to be clearly discerned even in this weather and wind.
Cedric frowns. "I am no stranger," he contradicts. "I am a paid-up, full-standin', member of this sept, old chum. My chiminage has been passed and signed off by Vera-rhya."

Circle Keeper's ears scoops back, the Uktena turning somewhat flummoxed as Cedric responds. There's a few sniffs in Cedric's general direction, before his ears finally gimble forward again. He takes a few steps towards the other, looking not entirely sure, before he repeats: Stranger.

Cedric brushes his hair out of his face again, then, perhaps to aid conversation with the lupus, or perhaps merely because he's fed up with the gale whipping his aristocratic locks about, he stands up on the ledge, takes off his coat, and then shifts through the forms until he too is in lupus, leaving two white wolves confronting each other. Come sniff my scent, he invites, and see that I am no stranger.

That seems to parse better with the arctic wolf, his tail relaxing slightly, and his eyes no longer so squinted. Lightning, from moot, he ventures, taking another half stride forward. Does not know Lightning; Is stranger. Circle Keeper shoves his head forward, sniffing hesitantly, as if to test the waters to make sure the other isn't incredibly foul before he brings his nose any closer.

Lightning remains still and planted with all four feet on the ground, awaiting Circle Keeper's approach. The wind howls through his thick white pelt and tugs his tail to one side, but other than that he makes no move.

Circle Keeper pages: Sniff sniff? Anything very city-ish or the like? Any strong cologne, or aftershave?
You paged Circle Keeper with 'Well, he doesn't smell like he's been to the city in a long while. If anything he smells a little musty, as though this is his first exposure to fresh air for a while. But he smells physically healthy. No artificial scent.'.

At the lack of any strong, offensive odours, Circle Keeper finally starts forward for the other, sniffing at the Fang's silver pelt as soon as he gets close enough to do so properly. His tail flags high, exposing his rear, as he starts to work his way back to the other's posterior. He's definitely taking his time about things.

Lightning still barely moves while Circle Keeper's nose travels around his body. His motionlessness somehow contrives to give him an air of both languidness and firmness, together.

Circle Keeper's tail remains flagged high, as if Cedric might any moment reciprocate the nasal investigation, until he's satisfied and finished. At that, the Uktena spins about to walk back to the front of the other. This one is Circle Keeper. Is Fostern Warrior for Uktena. Guardian in honourable bison-pack. Gatekeeper at caern. Elder of his tribe. His introduction is choppy, being delivered in short bursts, like Cedric might miss something if he told it all at once.

Lightning finally bestirs himself and digs his nose into Circle Keeper's rear in turn once the Uktena's introduction is done. The Silver Fang, unlike some homids, doesn't seem to see this as anything other than a perfectly everyday occurrence between two garou.

You paged Circle Keeper with 'Anything untoward or unusual in your scent?'.
Circle Keeper pages: He's rolled in some deer droppings, a few days ago. It smells swell, if you're a lupus. Also, some fish, some plant smells he can't quite identify, and some other garou.

Circle Keeper, for a chance, is taken by a bit of a surprise when Cedric finally does sniff, the wolf clearly having thought that the Silver Fang wouldn't have. In fact, it makes him just a tad leery. His tail flags high, though, his head lifting just a little more upright.

Lightning notes both Circle Keeper's cautious reaction, and his dominant pose. He also gets a good hint of everything the other wolf has rolled, trodden, or danced in lately, which is a medley of odors. Withdrawing his nose, he sits down, hindquarters tucked underneath him, front half raised up so he's still looking at the Uktena at pretty much eye to eye level. I came here for a peaceful place to think, he informs the Gatekeeper. I am learning a rite from another Silver Fang and around the caern, it feels easier to work on such things.

Circle Keeper's eyes lift, the Uktena's posture perking slightly as the Fang explains his presence. Lightning knows many rites? he asks, rather curiously.

Lightning indicates a negative. Not many rites, no. I find them hard to learn and difficult to remember. But I know how to bind an item to one's body so that it remains with you when you shift. And I know how to call upon one's ancestors in order to inspire you.

Circle Keeper's eyes widen a little, the Uktena pawing at the ground. If he could, you could almost imagine him simply going 'oh' in that terribly unimpressed sort of manner. He scratches at the ground once, without much comment beyond that first impression.

Lightning carries the conversation back into Circle Keeper's territory. Do you know many rites, then, Gatekeeper? he enquires.

Circle Keeper indicates an affirmative. Knows many rites. Some big rites. Rites for keeping Caern happy. There's a long pause, as the Uktena limps back a step, before he adds rather 'helpfully' that he's Gatekeeper, as if it was just in case the other forgot.

It is good that the Gatekeeper knows rites of the caern, declares Lightning. He turns his head on one side a little as Circle Keeper steps back. I know more spirit-gifts than I do rites, he adds, perhaps feeling a little outmaneuvered by the other garou.

Circle Keeper's interest quickly piques again, and the Uktena leans forward to sniff in the other's direction. He lets out a long, wordless inquiring whine, something not too far off from being the equivalent to the homid 'oh?' It's as if he thinks he can sniff the matter out of the Fang.

Yes. Yes. Lightning confirms that quite firmly. Some are those of my tribe, others are spread between other tribes. I use some rarely, others more often, all for the good of us all and for Gaia.

Circle Keeper does not think Silver Fang tribe has many spirit gifts, he replies dubiously. Not care very much about spirit lands as much as it cares about animal lands. Gifts make Silver Fangs shiney and bright or fast on snow. Not know of any Silver Fang spirit gifts.

Lightning indicates to Circle Keeper that he knows the gift which will make him shine brightly. But I know others too, he adds. With Falcon's blessing I can see far off things as clearly as a bird in the sky can spy them from above. And also, I have the gift which makes me appear huge and invincible and noble. The Silver Fang licks his chops, and qualifies that statement. /More/ huge and invincible and noble, he corrects himself.

Circle Keeper's only response is a gruff, noncommittal at seeing the other's comments. The Uktena sniffs a few more times in the other's direction, before scratching lightly at his side. Leave Lightning to practice rite thing, he offers.

Lightning considers a moment, then lets out a soft noise of assent. I will be here for a while. It is good to be near the caern. Good for garou, good for caern. Even in this weather.

The Uktena turns readily to stalk away from the Silver Fang. He makes his way along the track of the Caern, lumbering away from the Silver Fang without any further comment.

Lightning remains on his haunches, watching the Uktena disappear into the snowy gusts of wind. After a while, he turns to his discarded coat, emits a small cross growl as he sees it's now wet and snowed upon, and reverts to homid in order to pick it up and shake it out.

Circle Keeper, by that time, has made his way around the track of the Caern and out the other side. He quietly makes his way up the valley towards the west.