winter wolf

One of the last appearances for the lost pup at Luna’s Vale sept was at a grim and somber rite. One of the oldest, most venerable Garou stood proud as he declared his right to the Winter Wolf. To watch a man proudly face his own death, and to have it considered as much of a right as the right to food and water made her feel things she couldn’t articulate. Perhaps, a sense of relief. Beneath the full moon, she heard the sept call into the night sky the mighty deeds of the soon to be deceased.

As Gaia’s shadow began to sweep over the moon, and the revel to celebrate a life began, her own declaration, her spoken right to the Winter Wolf, was made in soft whispers to a “pack” that she had little attachment to, be that spiritual or emotional.

Most of them thought she was joking, in some bitter, depressed woman way. The only one that took her declaration of suicide seriously was a lupus, a former Red Talon who had seen the rite performed more than any of them. Only he followed her, as she left the gathering and walked the long road back to Seattle proper.

She came to a stop in front of a seemingly-abandoned power plant.

The lupus asked her if she was sure. She simply restated her request to be allowed the rite.

The lupus asked her if she knew what was in here. She nodded.

By the time the eclipse showed the face of the half moon, she disappeared past the fences and beyond the gates of the old power plants, and the lupus began to howl tales of her deeds into the night sky, alone, as the rite called for. They were small deeds, but perhaps hearing them might call her back. Perhaps hearing them might mean this homid would turn around, and not commit suicide by hive.

The moon showed only as a crescent before the lupus finally began to turn around, unaware what was going on beneath the earth below, but assuming the worst. He startled as the gates and fences rattled, and the lost pup shot past him with a bundle in her arms. The lupus ran after her, watching scorched clothing fall away, hearing her sob and cry with inarticulate pain, and hearing the whimpers of the bundle she carried.

As the moonlight finally fell away past Gaia’s shadow, she fell to the ground in front of a duplex, bleeding and burned. Her vacant eyes watched the eclipse, then slowly closed as her body began to rebel against her. But even as she spasmed, her grip on that bundle remained firm and secure. When the lupus caught up to her, he could see the human baby in her arms.

He scratched at the door, not knowing who would answer, and wondered why the rite had failed, if she had insisted on it.

After all, when the Rite of the Winter Wolf fails, Gaia still has one last task for you.