free the wayward child

You weren’t sure what to think when they informed you that a Fury elder would be arriving to sever you from the tribe.

Your experience with the tribe is a grim one. You remember the sept, and you remember the way they neglected your abuse. How he was such an upstanding kinfolk in the eyes of the others, but his unwanted advances resulted in both a child, and your first change. You remember how your best friend in the world was your only rock in those dark times, as your fellow cubs changed, but you didn’t. She was how you learned the name of what you were, how you really learned what it meant to be both Fury and Garou, when none of the others would teach you. You remembered watching even her change before you, and how your elders spoke of the oh-so-kind kin, how they ignored what went on behind closed doors.

You knew how lucky you were that it didn’t happen sooner, but learning of that child incited your First Change in a final moment of Rage and hate. You ended that bastard beneath your claws like the worthless charach he was. You remember how the elders weaponized it, used it as a fuel for their hatred of the male. You remember the rite they performed on you after the birth of your first child, shackles chained to a womb you never wanted. You were a sacred Mother to them, no more. You remember the birth of your child, the only light in a sea of misery, braced against the solid earth of your best friend.

You remember saving enough money to flee, and leaving it all behind you.

You remember the lies that sept told you about others outside their insular hive. How Get were misogynists and racists to the last, or how Glass Walkers were nothing but Weaver minions. How the Stargazers no longer existed, and how the Fera were extinct. But since you arrived on the island, you’ve been hired by a store helmed by twin Stargazers. Your coworker is a timid woman who masks the great form of the Dinosaur Kings. The first Get you ever spoke to was an honor-bound, respectful lupus who was fascinated with wrestling and carried around his very own folding chair, and the first Glass Walker you met was a meme-loving gardener whose entire cabin felt like its own condensed Wyld-space.

You wonder just how true Nicole’s lessons will hold about the world away from Rainbow Waters Caern.

When the Moon Bridge opens, a woman steps out. She is good-looking for her age, you’ve heard it told that she’s the most venerable, powerful Galliard on the island. Her hair still carries a distinct ginger color, and she still looks like she could dead-lift everyone here. She carries a cane carved from a cedar branch, whose head is shaped like the upper half of a pegasus. Yet, she still looks much rougher than any other Black Fury you’ve ever seen, like she’s actually seen battles against Wyrm-things and come out the victor.

She regards you with a certain glimmer in her eyes, and approaches. You see her features soften into a look you could only dream of receiving from your home sept – the look of a grandmother who is so, so proud of you.

“I’ve heard about y’.” She speaks. There’s a certain gruff edge to her voice, the mark of years of wisdom and glory. She speaks in a drawl that reminds of the southern Appalachians. “Heard somethin’ about whatch’ went through. I’d like t’apologize on behalf of all my daughters n’ granddaughters on th’island for what they told y’. What they made y’do.”

You ask her, hesitantly, what she means by daughters and granddaughters.

“Every Fury on this island’s my daughter, or my granddaughter. Not in much of a literal sense. An affectionate term. I look out for ‘em, an’ I make sure they learn good what th’tribe really stands for. Gaia don’t care much for stereotypin’ and secludin’, y’know. If there’s any time fer togetherness, the best time was ages ago. Second best time’s right now…” She looks you over again. “First time I think I ever got me a grandson, though.”

Your heart skips a beat. Did she really just say…?

“They might not see y’that way where y’come from, but I see it plain as day. Rules’re rules, an’ we can’t just hold a young man like you hostage.”

Your eyes go wide. Your old sept would have never recognized you this way, and here this elder is, recognizing you without a single question. She looks proud of you, and you’ve only just met. You can even see the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Y’been through a lot, th’spirits say. But y’survived. You’re here t’day, an’ I couldn’t be prouder of y’.”

She takes some of those tears and traces the glyph of the Black Furies upon your forehead, then blows it dry as gently as she can. You feel a strange weight lift off your shoulders as soon as it dries in full, a levity from the burden you’ve carried since your First Change.

“I hear Unicorn’s lookin’ for a fresh new talespinner. If yer willin’ to listen, I could teach y’some stories.”