It is currently 19:16 Pacific Time on Sat Aug 10 2002.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 74
degrees Fahrenheit (23 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in
from the northeast at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.06 and
falling, and the relative humidity is 61 percent. The dewpoint is 60
degrees Fahrenheit (15 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (15% full).

As you take the trail down, the mist clears after a brief brisk walk, and
you end up on the floor of the canyon, next to a waterfall.

By the Waterfall

The rugged walls of the canyon, spraypainted everywhere with lewd and
vulgar phrases and images, 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.

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.

The old growth forest surrounding the caern has been hewn down out to
150', leaving only stumps as tombstones for the mighty trees that once
sheltered the caern. The ground has been salted and otherwise rendered
poisonous to anything that might otherwise grow.

To the west, cool mist kicked up by the falls mingles with warmer steam
from geothermal sources; these mists swirl around the caern to the north.
The caern's center lies northwest of here. You can pick out what seems to
be a hazardous trail over rock and up the wall, to the side of the
waterfall.

At the center, Soft footsteps...well, they would have been soft, but with
the muddiness of the ground makes them loud squishy noises...herald the
approach of another two-legger. It's Lyra. Her hair has been braided and
tied at the end with blue ribbon, which might have been tied in a bow
once. A small backpack is on her shoulders, and her clothes are slightly
damp, as if she'd taken them out of the dryer to soon. She looks tired, a
little paler than usual, but she looks ready to work. A small smile comes
to her face when she sees Kade and Quentin.

At the center, "Uh.." Quentin's silent for a few moments as he glances
over towards Helen, then to the other teenager who's just showed up.. and
then he calls out in tenative tones, "..hi?" He seems a bit insecure for
the moment where he stands, not having seen Lyra making her way yet though
he undoubtedly hears the squishing steps.

At the center, Kade 's expression becomes a bit less nervous as she sights
Helen-- there's -one- person she knows, at least. "Hi!" she calls out
abruptly, half-raising one hand. As she sights Quentin, he's peered at for
a moment, then the girl repeats: "Uh. Yeah. Heya. Yeah.." she looks around
several moments longer before sighting Lyra.

You head into the center and heart of the caern.

Center of the Caern

This area of the clearing is about 30 meters wide and is a mixture of dark
soil and clay throughout. The ground is muddied, as if supersaturated not
long ago. Near the center of the clearing, lies what remains of the large
white boulder of stone and quartz. Gravel litters the area around the once
beautiful boulder, which has been pulverized to pieces no bigger than a
softball. Bits of it have been thrown about the caern and discarded like
forgotten toys.

Around you, twenty yards in every direction, stretches the caern. To the
southeast, a waterfall plummets over the edge of the chasm into a small
pool in the caern; nearby, to the southwest, steam comes from cracks in
the ground, perhaps some of the same water. Northwest, a rocky spar juts
out of the ground at a low angle, showing a sloping but smooth top. The
chasm walls narrow a bit to the northeast, causing some of the mist to
swirl in that area.

By the waterfall, Goose Spirit Materializes into the Realm in a flare of
amber light and a swirl of dust.

"Hey, Kade," says Helen, glancing up at her tribe-sister. "What are you up
to?" Curious, she glances over to Lyra and Quentin. She raises her left
hand and wiggles her fingers in a wave.

Salem enters not long after Lyra does, though from the opposite end of the
caern. Pure co-incidence. The Glass Walker is in the act of brushing dirt
off his hands; he's dressed in 'work clothes' -- t-shirt, sneakers, and
sweatpants -- and his hair's tied back.

Kade is short in stature, due as much to the slouching manner in which she
normally carries herself as to her actual height. Her frame is wiry,
almost bony, and tanned. The teenager's face is angular, Roman nose a bit
large, and wild hair-- dark brown, with faint brindle markings, perhaps
the result of an attempt at dyeing-- hangs into her brown eyes. More a
mane than anything else, her hair-- seeming always uncombed-- cascades to
about shoulder length.  The fifteen year old's attire consists of jeans
paired with baggy sweaters or sweatshirts, the sleeves of which half-cover
her hands. Kade's fingernails are are bitten and picked down to the quick,
not too lovely.

Lyra's smile widens a bit, and the tired girl's steps pick up as she walks
further into the Caern. "Helen-rhya, hello. Hey Kent- and Kade, it's been
some time. I'm glad you came." The cub looks from side to side, missing
Salem's entrance completely. She's not very alert today. "I thought I'd be
the only late one...but...I suppose people were busy."

That tension flows out of Quentin's manner as at least one familiar voice
reaches his ears, half-turning from where he's standing and flashing over
a rather wide grin in Lyra's direction. "Hey! I was kind of worried you
weren't.. you know.. going to show." A thread of concern wound through
those words, though the cause isn't quite evident. In the same moment he
catches sight of Salem's arrival, and raises one hand in silent greeting,
his smile slipping just a bit towards something more serious.

Salem steps over toward Quentin, his hands as dirt-free as they're going
to get without soap and water. "Evening," he greets, cool and brisk and
businesslike, and though his eye lingers somewhat as it passes over Lyra,
his bland, neutral expression doesn't change at all.

A lupine shadow slips along the canted top of the rock slab, glances
towards the gathered folk before it spills from few. A moment later it's
walking the caern's edge, near the waterfall, a certain gait broken by a
prominent limp. Bridge-Mender when it draws closer, Anneka when she pulls
herself up onto two legs, draws the human shape around her. Even on the
squishy ground, she doesn't make much noise at all.

Kade moves forward again, towards Helen, as she's acknowledged by the
Cliath. "We're clean-up crew, and such," she explains, bobbing her head to
back up her words. Towards Lyra: "Enh-- 's no worries, and... yeah." It's
only as he steps forward that Salem's noticed, and the man's blinked at,
uncertainly. He's offered a bit of a wave, then she heads towards the
group, cracking her knuckles.

Helen just nods as Kade mentions being clean-up crew. "Mmhm," she mumbles,
examining the bits of quartz she holds. She tosses it from hand to hand,
occasionally glancing up at the group who's congregated here.

Lyra blinks in confusion as both Quentin and Kade wave in her direction,
but not to her. When Salem appears beside Quentin, her entire body goes
rigid for a moment; whatever good mood she was beginning to have slips
away. She looks away from the Walkers, catches sight of Anneka, and breaks
into a relieved smile. "Anneka!" Forgetting everything else for the
moment, Lyra nearly runs to the Gnawer, squishing to a stop in front of
her. She looks like she wants to give her a hug, but is uncertain if she
should.

Anneka quirks a corner of her mouth up as she steps along the muddy ground
towards the cub. Her smile grows along the way, crinkles the corners of
her eyes, draws the scars that spill along one side of her face into sharp
relief. She stops, not far from the cub, then opens her arms. There's
something wrong with one of them, but she hugs the other half-moon tight.
"Hey."

"'Evening, sir." The greeting is spoken in respectful tones.. sprinkled
with concern, underscored with a hint of excitement that the Walker cub is
actually doing something aside from standing behind Salem or sitting in
the apartment. It's been awhile, for him, after all. Quentin's gaze fades
into that concern then as Lyra's own expression falls, flickering over to
watch her as she charges across the ground towards.. someone he doesn't
know. Hm. A look over towards Kade, and he flashes a grin, "Hi. I'm
Quentin, by the way. Galliard cub of the Glass Walkers."

Goose Spirit idly waddles over to the center of the caern, scratching at
the ground on occassion.

Salem's eye follows Lyra for a moment as the cub hurries toward Anneka,
his expression tightening subtly around the mouth and eyes. Then he
notices the waddling avian, and an eyebrow lifts.

Helen remains silent, just staring rather blankly at the goose. "Uh, does
anyone know why the hell a bird is here?" she asks, standing up.
Stretching, the Fury does an imitation of the goose, waddling over. "Go,
shoo."

Kade watches Lyra and the other young woman curiously for a moment, head
tilted slightly to one side, then looks back towards Quentin, though not
before shooting Salem a quick look. "Heya," she replies, "uh-- nice to
meet you. I'm Kade. Um. Philodox cub. Black Furies." the goose isn't
noticed until the other Fury calls attention to it. "Goose? I'unno..." she
grins as Helen moves over towards the avian. "Maybe it got lost? From,
y'know, its flock?"

While most greeting-hugs would be short, Lyra doesn't let go of the
shorter girl right away. "I've missed you," she says softly, finally
pulling away with a shy, sad smile. "It's-" Helen's exclamation cuts her
short, and she glances over her shoulder to stare in shock at seeing a
goose. This was the last place she would have expected to see anything
living, but for Garou. "Golly...I wonder if he made a nest here while the
place was a pond?"

As Salem's no longer making his way towards Quentin, the cub takes the
opportunity to step along with an easy stroll towards where Kade is
standing.. and, by extension, closer to where Lyra and Anneka are having
their little reunion. "Good to meet you," he says with a quick smile of
his own, then flickers a look over towards the waddling goose and blinking
a bit, "Huh? It's a goose.. I mean, nothing weird about that, is there?"

"Been away 'n out," Anneka says, quiet. She glances around Lyra at the
goose, cants her head.

Goose Spirit ruffles it's feathers. *I fled when the corrupt ones came.
Now I have come back. I watch.* it says, the spirit letting itself be
understood by all.

Anneka bumps Lyra with her shoulder, her mouth quirking up again, tucks
her hands into her pockets. She's grubby and filthy from head to toe,
smells like wolves and green leaves, earth and asphalt. A Gnawer in the
woods. "Goose," she says, by way of greeting. "Hi."

Salem's bemusement clears as the bird-spirit speaks. "Ah," says the Glass
Walker. "Welcome back, then."

"Hi," says Helen, blinking at the goose. Almost ashamed, she adds,
"Sorry." She glances over to the others and steps away, wrinkling her nose
at the spirit.

"You'd think it'd leave once it saw us..." Kade remarks. "I mean, 's a
wild animal and stuff.... I read that a swan can break a man's arm with it
its wings-- can -geese- do that?" the bird is eyed again, with a little
more wariness. As Salem speaks, she nods a greeting. "Uh-- you, too?"
then-- a voice. Errlack! Her brow furrows, she put a hand to her mouth and
begins to chew on one of her fingernails. It takes her several long
moments to realise -who- is speaking, then her eyes widen slightly.
"Mmph!" she observes, then, hiding her surprise: "Good to... have you
back, then. Guess that explains stuff. Err."

Lyra does a double-take as the goose...turns out to be a spirit. She
shoots a wry smile at Quentin, so that he might remember her New York
cubname, and looks back at Anneka, smiling still. "Well, I hope that means
we'll see each other more." She waves to the goose spirit then. "We're
just going to clean up the Caern a bit. You can help if you'd like," she
kids the bird. Then the cub kneels down, slinging her backpack off to
rifle through it. Out comes a roll of trashbags.

Quentin, who was about to say something else, stops with his jaw hanging
half open in a rather comical expression as he simply stares at the bird
that was the center of such concern just moments ago. Eyes of bright green
blink once, blink twice.. blink a third time. He could be a statue in grey
sweats for all that he's moving. At last he manages to stammer out,
"Uh-ah.. did that goose just talk?" A startled glance towards Salem, "I
heard that, right? I'm not just finally having a breakdown."

Salem looks over toward Quentin, one corner of his mouth twitching ever so
slightly upwards. "You heard that," he confirms. "It's a spirit."

Anneka drags a pale hand through her curly, dirty hair. The tips of two
fingers are missing. She grins at Quentin, glances at the goose. "Nope,
goose is talkin'. I'm Anneka Bridge-Mender, cliath Philodox and Bone
Gnawer. Hi." The trash bags get a look as well.

Goose Spirit scratches at the soil, sneezes. *Bad things done here.* It
fans it's wings at Quentin, then. *Yes, spirit, come to Hard Place. Nice
here.*

Lyra rips off one trash bag, then sits back on her heels and looks around.
"Not as much trash here anymore, but we could pick up the gravel..." The
cub starts picking up small bits of rock, some smaller than pencil eraser.
This would be a painstaking task, and doubtful it would be done today. To
Anneka, the young Gnawer explains the congregation of people. "A few cubs
and I started a practice pack called Gaia's Own...tonight is our first
pack activity. Clean up the Caern."

From somewhere back in the woods, the sound of twig-like things being
crashed through echoes through the trees. Rheen soon emerges and skids to
a halt at the edge of the clearing, breathing heavily. She scans the area
and trots up to the other cubs gathered around the... goose? She cocks her
head toward the bird, then looks questioningly at the others. "Sorry I'm
late." She pulls a twig out of her hair. "What's with the goose?"

Kade grins a little at Quention's startlement, pleased that someone
besides herself is surprised by it. She watches the goose spirit a moment
longer, then wanders over to Lyra as the girl produces trash bags. "Issit
okay that I like, didn't bring any supplies? Like-- no trash-pokin' stick
or anything?" she shifts position, then goes into a crouch, moving to grab
a bag, herself. Head raises as Rheen makes her rather noisy entrance.
"Heyo!" comes the call.

Anneka's grin turns up again, brighter now. "Rawk," she says, warm and
quiet. Then she's reaching for a trash bag as well. "Packin' up's a good
idea." She glances at Salem, then shakes the bag out, black plastic
fluttering.

Once assured that he is not, in fact, suddenly having delusions of talking
geese (which would give any therapist a field day with refrences to the
Brother's Grimm) -- Quentin returns his gaze back to the goose, a bit of a
flush touching his cheese as it fans its wings in his direction and a hint
of wonder in his eyes. "Wow. A real spirit.. um.. well. Welcome back to
the Caern, Mr. Goose Spirit. I think we're all, uh, happy you're here."
Okay, enough making a fool of himself with ephemeral waterfowl, he looks
over to the others and re-introduces himself with a quick grin, "Quentin,
Galliard cub of the Glass Walkers. Good to meet you all."

"Cub pack, eh?" There's a bit of distaste in Helen's voice, but she
doesn't say anything about it. She glances to Quentin, and says, "Helen
Tisandros. Cycle-Breaker, cliath new moon of the Furies. Hi."

The Fostern Fianna's entrance is at a somewhat slower pace, but then, Luke
wasn't late for meeting anyone, he was just assessing the level of damage
that remains. He's had a lot to take in within the last few hours. As he
closes on the group to investigate, he spies several familar faces, and
offers a faint smile and a wave. The greeting is genunine enough, though
the smile is a little forced.

Salem unconsciously massages the knuckles of one hand, and eventually his
attention moves from the goose spirit, as interesting as it is, toward the
knot of self-appointed trash collectors. His expression's unreadable.

Rheen blinks as people begin speaking to the afformentioned goose. Has she
missed something here? "Ahh, is that...?" She starts to take a step toward
the bird but stops as Luke enters the clearing. She pokes at the ground
with a toe.

Lyra looks up at Kade, then at Rheen. She breaks out into another smile.
"Hey there, Riverstone! Don't mind Mr. Feathers, he's a spirit. Oh, that's
fine Kade. You showed up, that's all that was asked." The cub drops a
handful of pebbles into the bag, then gets to her feet and moves closer to
the center of the caern, seeking another spot, moving away from the small
group as Salem draws closer. She smiles at Luke in greeting, then finds a
particularly stony spot; she can pick pebbles up by the handful in one
scoop. As the Gnawer cub re-crouches, she gives the goose a thoughtful,
but respectful, glance.

Kade , trash bag in hand, fumbles with it for several long moments,
muttering under her breath. Eventually, she gets it open, and bobs her
head at Lyra. "Good!" pursing her lips, she looks around, straightens up,
re-taking in the area. As she does so, she notices the newly arrived Luke,
offers him a wave with her free hand. "Since he's a -spirit-, I'll be he
can do a lot more than just break people's arms with his wings," the cub
says, then ambles off after a moment towards the waterfall-- might as well
start farther away, work her way back here.

Anneka sets herself on a path across the muddy ground that takes her near
Helen. The Fury gets a look, a quirked-up grin, then the half-moon's
looking at the ground. With weeks of work the caern's nothing like it was
the day it was taken back, but there's still stuff here and there that
shouldn't be. She works a little scrap of metal out of the mud, glances at
the Fury again. "Hey."

Oh, right-- they're here to clean. Quentin lurches into movement once more
to head along over towards the glistening black roll of garbage bags,
dropping to a slight crouch beside it to tear one off the roll. One of
those maddening people who's mastered the art of opening them, he has it
open even as he straightens once more. "Alright, to work then," he says
far more cheerfully than someone about to work should, and steps along
towards a place where he sees a glint of metal and plastic sticking from
the earth's messy embrace.

Rheen shrugs, and gives the goose a flamboyant wave hello before
collecting some pebbles of her own and joining the fun. She patrols her
own little corner of the ground, stooping over to pick up a few rocks at a
time. As she searches, she is mulling over everything she can remember of
what she has been taught about spirits. This is the first one she has ever
met, or at least the first one she knew for what it was.

Luke glances at the group, "Guess that answers my question about what's
up," he says. "One of you summon our friend here?" he asks, a litte
surprised to see the spirit, especially as he doesn't see anyone he
recognizes as an elder Theurge. "They don't usually stay materialized on
this side of things all that much."

Goose Spirit hops up on the broken stone with a fan of it's wings and
settles down. *I watch* it says.

Helen's eyes divert from the waddling spirit to the bunch of cubs, and
then at Luke. "Holy--" She stops, and wanders over to the Fianna. "Hey,
Luke. How've you been?" she asks, smiling faintly.

Pebbles bounce and rattle in the plastic bag as handful after handful gets
thrown in. Lyra smiles as the goose gets himself higher up, like a task
master. "It's nice to have an audience," she tells it, before looking
around. When her glance settles on Quentin, she bites her lower lip,
remembering how cold she'd been earlier. "Hey, pip," she calls out, tone
cheery. "Can you help me out here?"

Salem pulls his gaze away from the cubs and looks back at the spirit. "You
watch," the Walker echoes, eyeing it curiously. "Have you seen anything
interesting?"

After that chunk of something is dug out of the grass and tossed into the
open garbage bag with a rustling thump, Quentin raises his head over
towards the call in his direction from Lyra.. and a more easy smile
blossoms across his expression. Straightening, the bag swaying back and
forth like a pendulum in his hand and the wind, he walks along over with a
quick step, "Sure thing. Have bag, will clean.."

"Hey," Luke responds to Helen. "Not bad. Would be better if..." he
gestures to the caern as a whole. "Seems things have changed a bit while I
was gone."

"Yeah," Helen agrees. "If it didn't happen. Well, we got the caern back,
so, I guess it's good. Where've you been?"

Rheen straightens up after a while, dumping another handfull of pebbles
into a bag. "So, how far down do we need to go? I mean, we're picking up
rocks. How much might still be tainted, do you think? Are we gonna have to
steam clean the dirt or something?" She glances over at Luke and shrugs,
then goes back to scouring the ground for small stones, pausing for a
second to take another look at the goose supervising everyone's progress.

Luke says "Fort Benning. Infantry OSUT and then Airborne school. Almost
got Ranger school, too, but it didn't work out." He shrugs. "Probably for
the best, since I'd have been gone another three months for it if I'd
went."

"That's the ticket," the Gnawer cub grins, fingers grasping around a
handful of rock. Bits of mud cling under her fingernails, and her braid
falls over her shoulder, dangling above the ground. She calls over her
shoulder to Rheen, "Right now, the rocks and trash is enough. The elders
will get the ground, if it's tainted." Her voice drops softly, so that
only she, Quentin, and the goose can hear. "But say, Kentin, about this
morning...or this afternoon, rather..."

Helen just says, "Oh." She glances to the cubs. "Don't rip out the grass
or anything, or I'll have to kill you. I'm a Guardian, remember?" she
tells them, grinning.

Anneka works her way along the grassy center, towards the caern's edge and
to the pond at the base of the waterfall. Now and then she bends over,
tugs something up from the soft earth. Metal glitters in the wan moon's
light, little bits of bright plastic.

"I don't think steam cleaners work on spiritual taint, babe," Quentin
calls over with a grin towards Rheen's direction, before pausing then at
Helen's warning -- he appears to take it seriously, swallowing once with a
raise and fall of his throat's apple. "Ah.. we'll be careful, ma'am. And
no bothering any worms, I know." A step back then closer to Lyra's side,
dropping himself down to one knee and reaching out to pluck pebbles from
the grass carefully as his own voice drops to a quiet murmur-- his gaze
concerned as he looks back to her, "..yeah? You had me really worried,
cute stuff.."

Luke grins at Helen. "You've sure got him trained."

Helen winks at Luke. "I don't even know him. I know his name, though." She
shouts over to Quentin, "Do a good job or I'll have your head!" Instead of
trying to have a severe expression she starts laughing.

Lyra's gaze is on the ground as she scoops up gravel, blades of grass
flexing upward as she takes off the stones weighting them, but she smiles
faintly at Quentin's concern. "Salem -did- say something to me last night.
But you really don't have to worry about it, okay? Please don't say
anything to him about my behavior." A shrug, and a sunny smile to the
Walker cub. "I'm really fine, now." Her tone is bright and soothing.
"Sometimes I'm just a silly little git."

Anneka wanders back, her trash bag slung over shoulder, quirks a grin up
at Helen as she makes her way back towards the center. Her hair bobs in a
mane about her sunny, scarred face.

Luke says, "Anyway, I'm gonna get back to my scouting. If you all are
still at it when I get back, then I'll join in." He waves, and starts off
in the direction of the bawn.

Salem glances at Luke and Helen; there's a twist of a dry half-smile at
the Fury's remark. He glances back over at his tribe's cub, watching him
in murmured conversation with Lyra for a moment, and then turns back to
Helen. "He'll do fine. How's Guardianship suiting you?"

"It's fine. Kinda weird, not going much anywhere, but I like it. I feel
virtuous," Helen says, smirking at Salem. She then shrugs. "How're you
doin'?"

Rheen pushes a hair out of her eyes, then returns to her work. Not much
for conversation tonight, is she. Bending over a particularly stubborn
piece, she curses as she rams a wad of dirt under a fingernail.

A bit dubious, the green gaze that regards Lyra for a moment, before
Quentin's concerned expression eases into a more easy smile once more.
"Alright," he says simply, reaching up to ruffle the dark silk of her hair
with the hand not holding garbage, and as he straightens again he adds,
"Just don't scare me like that again.. okay? If you need to talk, talk. I
was worried." Straightening fully, he looks over to Helen.. oh, she's
laughing. He chuckles a bit, and calls back, "We will! Besides, I think
Salem has dibs on my head if I screw up.."

Anneka finds her way back to Lyra. She glances at the cub, then crouches
down to run her hands through the new grass. After a moment she picks up
something that may have been part of a soda can, once.

Salem doesn't chuckle at Quentin's shouted reply; there's a glint of humor
in his eye at the cub's answer, but it's faint. His general mood's dead
solemn this evening. "Not badly," he says, answering Helen. "Things seem
to be normalizing in the city, at least for the moment."

Lyra blushes instantly when Quentin touches her hair, glancing around
furtively to see if anyone else saw, and blushing more hotly when she
meets Anneka's gaze briefly. "It was nothing," she says softly, going back
to picking up pebbles and, now, shards of broken glass. A small crease
forms in her forehead, like a new worry had occurred to her. "Been walking
about on your own?"

Helen inclines her head to Salem. "Wish I could check it out, but, you
know. Being a Guardian and all of that," she says, glancing over to the
cubs again. "With you guys doing this we'll be cleaned up in no time."

Salem folds his arms across his chest. "Hmnh. Any more sniper incidents?"

Quentin eases himself back down to a crouch near the two Gnawers, setting
the garbage bag between his splayed knees and reaching down to pluck those
slivers of glittering glass from between the blades of grass. If he saw
the blush, he shows no signs of noticing as he focuses on his work even
while he talks. "Oh, not much.. tonight was the first night I was allowed
to, and you had this all arranged, so.."

Helen lifts her shoulders in a shrug. "I dunno," she says to Salem. "I
don't think so."

Goose Spirit honks and discorporats back into the Umbra, it's makesift
body breaking apart into a cloud of dust and old leaves.

"Maybe they've given up," Salem says, though judging from his tone, he
doubts it. The spirit's abrupt departure provokes another raised eyebrow.

Anneka looks back at Lyra, head canted. She holds that gaze, even when
Lyra looks away, pushes a mass of curly hair away from her eyes, green and
glass. Then she looks back to the ground, furrows her brow at the new
grass. She picks a bottlecap up, tucks it in her trashbag.

Lyra nods at Quentin's words, dropping pebbles and glass into her bag. The
goose's abrupt departure startles her, and she sneezes as a wave of dust
floats off the rock. Picking up the old leaves gingerly and staring at
them, she muses, "I wish we could follow him. Over to the Umbra, I mean."

The dim light of evening glitters over the shards of glass that Quentin
plucks one by one into his hand until they pool in his palm, shifting them
about for a moment before letting them rain down into the shadowed gape of
his trash bag. At the loud 'honk' of goose-voice he jerks up-- and tumbles
back onto his rear from that precarious crouch, blinking for a moment.
"Jeeze," he mumbles as he drags himself back up, "Warn a guy, wouldja?"

Anneka watches the goose vanish, a smile stirring, then looks up towards
the moon, a bare sliver in the dark. "Not our time."

Salem rubs at the side of his neck, then stretches and shifts down to wolf
form. Four-legged, the former Shadow Lord lies down near the remains of
the boulder, one forepaw folded over the other, and watches the trash
collectors with alert ears and one solemn, golden eye.

Lyra quirks a grin at Quentin, then lets the leaf in her hand float to the
ground. At Anneka's comment, she looks up into the sky as well, braid
brushing the ground. "I know. I'm impatient." She smiles shyly at the
curly-haired girl, hands resting on the black plastic bag for a moment.
Then the smile fades into a pensive look. "Bridge-Mender? You...you told
me part of a halfmoon's job is peace, right?"

Salem's acute lupine hearing catches Lyra's inquiry to Anneka and his ears
flick backwards irritably.

Quentin pushes himself up to his feet at last, since nobody seemed to
notice his embarassing fall, and brings the plastic bag with him as he
leaves the two Gnawers to discuss.. well, whatever it is they're
discussing. A few steps carry him along further away to where the broken
shards of a mirror glitter in the grass, and he reaches down to scoop them
up as well.

Anneka glances over at the cub. "Yeah. Bein' a half-moon isn't just sayin'
someone's guilty when they've done somethin' wrong. It's helpin' people
live the Litany, know it so they don't hafta /remember/ it. It's keepin'
the peace, so we don't waste time fightin' with each other when we
shouldn't be." She stands, brushes a clod of mud from a skinny knee, looks
to the ruins of the quartz stone.

"Okay," is all Lyra says. She brushes a strand of hair fallen loose from
its braid back over one ear, looking down at the ground. "A lot's happened
since we last talked." The cub bites her lip, then looks up at Anneka with
hazel eyes that threaten tears. "I'm so glad you didn't die," she says
softly.

As Quentin notices that Rheen's found a particularly nasty spot of garbage
that got left over from the general cleaning, he trudges over along in
that direction.. for the time being out of the range of general
conversation as he goes about his work with a smile on his face. He's
actually -doing- something for once, and seems deeply pleased with that.

Anneka slings her trash bag over her shoulder, reaches up with a grubby
hand to brush her hair away from her face. "Yeah, has," she murmurs. She
crouches down again, leans her shoulder against the cub.

Salem's ears swivel back forwards. His attention shifts away from the two
Bone Gnawers and rests on Quentin. Even in the wolf shape, his body
language reveals little more than that cold self-control.

Lyra leans back into the cliath, pulling a bit on her trash bag. "Renee
Rited," she murmurs, reciting news. "And this practice pack got started. I
met a lot of people. I went to New York, for awhile." There's silence as
the cub fidgets with the drawstrings of the bag. "What about you?"

Quietly, the young Guardian decides she should best leave. "I'll see you
guys later," Helen says, and with that she leaves the caern.

Salem turns toward the Fury Guardian and churfs a brief farewell.

Anneka lifts a hand and waves to the Fury. "Hey, later," she murmurs. Then
she looks back to the cub. "Know about 'ne." She quirks her mouth up. That
near, it's easy to see the awful scars that cross freckled skin, gather
like a starburst around her glass eye. "Little Tim's back. D'know if
you've met him, but you should. Been out here a lot since we got th'caern
back, helpin' with patrols and cleanin' stuff up." The smile grows a
little warmer. "It's real cool, 'bout th'pack."

Lyra smiles back, eyes drifting to the scar- but only for an instant.
"It's fun to do," she says softly, scooping gravel into her bag as if
suddenly remembering why she was here. "But no, I don't know about any
Little Tim. I'll try to run into him, though." The cub gets quiet, still
picking up gravel. She looks over her shoulder, trying to find Salem.

There's a Shadow Lordish looking lupus lying down near the shattered
boulder with his head on his forepaws. Half his face is scarred up, and
the eye on that side is white and, to all appearances, blind.

Anneka counts off something on her ruined hand, the last two fingers oddly
shortened. "He's a Gnawer, real tall and he's got no hair. He taught me
how to fight, an' he doesn't fool 'round about it." The Glass Walker may
have seen Anneka fight, when the caern was taken back, brutal and direct.
"He's cool, no-moon, too."

Lyra's glance passes right over the wolf, only thinking that his eye was
like Anneka's. That thought brings her to conjure up an image of
Salem...and then she blinks at the scarred lupus, quickly turning back
around to pay attention to the Gnawer. Her fingers fidget more, now that
the thought of the Walker watching her enters her mind. She catches the
tail end of Anneka's words and simply nods.

Anneka cants her head, then leans into the cub, sets her slight weight
into the task.

Salem doesn't, for the moment, appear to be watching the two Bone Gnawers.
He's affected an air of disinterest. His head comes up abruptly at some
noise outside of human hearing, and he stares off into the distance,
attention directed outside the caern. A charm whose shape Lyra would find
familiar hangs from a cord around his neck, the bird-shape nestled close
to the fur.

Lyra smiles as the Gnawer leans into her again, snatching another glimpse
of the lupus'd Salem. A glimpse that lasts rather long when something blue
catches her eye. The girl finally tears her eyes away, thinking again.
"Anneka, remember when I got hurt? In a fight?" Lyra pulls her knees to
her chest, looking at the abused ground. "Did...did you kill anybody?"

Anneka waves her ruined hand about to hold her balance, then rocks back
onto two feet. She runs a hand through the grass, cants her head. "Yeah, I
did."

Evidently, the noise isn't something to worry about, for after a few
moments, the Glass Walker puts his head down again, resting it across his
forelegs.

The asian Gnawer blinks sadly, shoes tapping the ground idly. The
admission doesn't seem to come as a big surprise. "Renee said you did,"
Lyra sighs. There's a pause as she tries to think of how to go from there.
"Were...were you sorry about it?"

Anneka could have two real eyes, but the way she cants her head to catch
the grass in view suggests one, at least, cannot see. "I don't like doin'
it."

Lyra hugs her knees to her a bit more tightly, looking down at the fabric
of her sleeves. "Neither do I."

Anneka's smile has long faded, her mouth drawn out into a line. "Good."

Lyra nods slowly, although at what, it's hard to say. "Anneka, we're
friends, right?" The cub can't help but raise her voice a bit, as if to
make sure wolfish ears would hear.

Wolfish ears _do_ hear; Salem's twitch at the rise in volume, although
otherwise, the Walker remains as stone. His position's one of relaxation,
but he's a little too carefully controlled, too motionless.

Stonehenge comes padding up and woofs a greeting to everyone.

Anneka looks over at Lyra, draws a quizzical brow up. Surprised, turned
slightly by the scars that twist her face. She's surprised enough that she
doesn't notice the new wolf's arrival.

Stonehenge is a young grey wolf. His coat shines with good grooming.
Muscles can be seen developing beneath his coat. His golden eyes have
small flecks of blue about the edges. He watches you and takes mental
notes of all you do.

Salem lifts his head from his paws, distracted briefly by the young Get's
arrival. He greets Stonehenge with aloof courtesy.

Lyra starts to explain, but Adrian's arrival interrupts her. She waves to
her Alpha, and points to the forgotten roll of garbage bags. "Fashionably
late as always, peacock," she says softly, smiling at the Get cub. "We're
picking up pebbles and trash."

Stonehenge mock growls, "Well, I got lost in the woods.

Anneka leans on Lyra, glances over at the cub with that same quizzical
look, then casts her attention to the new wolf.

Reminded that she asked a question, Lyra looks back at Anneka, dropping
her voice low again. "Some people think it's...strange for cliaths to be
friends with cubs," she explains. "Do you think you're just my mentor? Er,
not -just-," she hastens to add. "But...well, you know. Aren't we
friends?"

Stonehenge shifts to homid. He's dressed in his usual 501's and
wifebeater. The weeks of working out are starting to show, he's difinately
filling out and starting to show some muscle. He grabs the trash bags.
"Where ya want them?"

Salem's left ear quirks sideways at Lyra's question. Abruptly, he gets up
and paces around toward a spot near the rock slab. Then he lies down
again, having recovered from this spasm of restlessness.

Anneka reaches up to rub the bridge of her nose. She gives the cub a long
look, then says, quiet. "I don't think it's strange. We're sisters, 'kay,
even if you're a cub. Bein' a cub means somethin', bein' cliath means
somethin' /too/, but there's nothin' sayin' neither can be friends." She
shifts a foot forward, turns more fully towards the cub. "Nothin' sayin'
bein friends doesn't mean you shouldn't listen, neither, or that it's
gonna be easier 'n if you weren't. We're tough for a reason, we're hard on
ourselves 'cause what we're fightin' doesn't care about friends, about
anythin but killin' th'world."

Lyra glances over at Adrian to answer him, but Anneka's reply is more
important. With an apolgetic look, she turns back to the Philodox to
listen, fingers pulling at her sleeves. When she's done, the cub is
silent. She blinks once, twice, but doesn't look away from Anneka. "Okay,"
she says finally, with great seriousness. "I hear you. I...just wanted to
make sure." The asian halfmoon smiles wanly, one corner of her mouth
quirked higher.

Adrian just watches quietly.

Anneka's own smile is small, shown more in the way the skin crinkles near
her eyes than in the turn of her mouth. She leans on Lyra again, puts her
full weight into it.

With an exaggerated oof, Lyra lets herself be pushed over, sprawling out
on the ground. For a full moment, she plays dead. Then she's giggling,
feeling...truly happy for the first time in twenty four hours. But it felt
like years since she'd laughed.

Anneka topples over onto her back near the cub, grins up at the slender
moon.

Salem's ears twitch visibly at the sound, and glances over at the two Bone
Gnawers, quite still, quite cold. He gets up again, then leaps to the top
of the rocky outcrop, landing on the naturally-formed dais with a click of
canine claws against stone. Then, once again, he lies down.

At the Rock Outcropping

The caern flattens out here, a more stable and solid area than around the
steam vents or even the caern's center. The grass that once surrounded the
single rocky outcropping here is gone and replaced with nothing but
infertile earth. The outcropping is an oval slab of rock jutting out of
the ground at a slight angle, ending up only about a foot above the
ground. With its slight rise reaching generally towards the center, the
rock slab seems to form a natural dais, a platform just a little above the
level of the rest of the caern. The slab's purity has been defiled. It is
now battered, chipped, cracked, and has obscene glyphs, passages, and
drawing chiseled into it.

The old growth forest surrounding the caern has been hewn down out to
150', leaving only stumps as tombstones for the mighty trees that once
sheltered the caern. The ground has been salted and otherwise rendered
poisonous to anything that might otherwise grow.

The caern circles away from the walls east, towards the swirling area, and
south, towards the steam vents; the center is southeast of here. A
dangerously slippery, muddy trail winds up towards the rim of the caern
from here. One false step could result in tragedy.

At the center, Adrian watches Salem with interest.

At the center, Lyra rolls over onto her tummy, then shifts to lupus. She
pads over to Anneka, gives her face a nuzzle. I need to talk to another
friend now, Bridge-Mender. Come visit me at my home lots and lots, please!
Then the red wolf darts away, prancing about Adrian's legs and looking to
where Salem had gone.

At the center, Adrian smiles down at his packmate, "So, am I still Alpha
or was I voted out?" He smiles at her.

Salem remains in apparant repose on the rock slab, one forepaw hanging
slightly over the edge.

At the center, Anneka rocks herself up to her feet, covered with bits of
grass, grins as she watches the wolf prance about around the Get. She
glances at Adrian. "Hey, I'm Anneka Bridge-Mender. Cliath Philodox of the
Bone Gnawers. It's cool you're packin' with Lyra." She glances towards the
rock where Salem's gone, tucks her hands in her pockets. "I'll be 'round
town, Lyra. Got stuff to do there." And with that she drifts off, quiet as
a windblown leaf, across the caern's center to the steam vents where she
vanishes.

At the center, Four-Leaves watches Anneka go longingly, then nudges her
head into Adrian's knee. Alpha still. The others went outside to clean,
and probably home from there. It's late. You're late. Silly wolf, getting
lost. The red wolf lifts her head up to stare with bright green eyes at
the lone wolf so high above. Then she looks back to Adrian. Morning is
probably the best time to resume. And maybe more people will come then.

At the center, Adrian looks to Salem and thinks about shifting back down
to lupus and going over and biting that forepaw. He decides, he doesn't
need any broken bones tonight and opts not to follow his instincts. He
instead looks to Four Leaves, "Sure, I can do that. Did many show up?"

Salem is, apparantly, paying no attention to the two cubs.

At the center, Adrian looks at Salem and smiles.

At the center, A few. Wonders-Why, ~Kentin~, Riverstone. People stopped
by, left. I haven't seen Fights for awhile. A...bad showing, but, there's
always morning. The red wolf pads in a circle about Adrian nervously. I
should go talk to him.

Salem continues to lie still on the rock outcropping. He isn't asleep, but
neither does he act like he's paying any attention to the cubs.

At the center, Four-Leaves shakes her coat out, steeling herself for her
next move. Rhiannon's words in her head, the red wolf pads over slowly to
the spot under Salem, then cants her head back to stare with one green
eye. ~You've mud on your paw,~ she observes coolly.

Salem turns his head and stares down at her. If anything, he's even more
careful in his body language when in lupus. The wolf form projects
emotion, and so Salem holds himself quite still, almost poised. As a
result, his answer comes across as cold, almost harsh. I am aware of this.
There is mud on the ground, too.

At the center, The red wolf chuffs, but it seems to be done for sound
only, no translatable meaning. She turns about in a tight circle, tail
lashing her own legs. Was it too early to try to talk to him? Would it be
better to wait? Without the sort of self control Salem has, it's obvious
to any and all that the cub is in distress. Anger, fear, confusion,
sadness. Each flick of Four-Leaves' ears and whine from her muzzle tells
another feeling. Finally she stops pacing, looks back up. With a sudden
hopeful glint in her eyes, she yips, Come down and play?

Salem's ears tilt askew, out of alignment with each other. He's surprised
at the question, then lifts his head, looking imperious as he stares
narrowly, curiously, down at her. ...Play?

At the center, It wasn't an immediate 'no'. More hope enters those eyes,
and the cub's tail wags slowly. Play, she repeats, left ear flicking about
like a mad twitch. The right swivels more slowly, dignified. Four-Leaves
rears up, swipes one paw at the wolf high above her, then falls back to
four feet. Be young again.

Salem pushes to his feet and shakes himself. Standing on the edge of the
rock slab like a lion voiced by James Earl Jones, he notes, sourly, that
the last time he _played_, the pup ended up being killed by its dam. And I
haven't been _young_ since before you were born.

At the center, Two oppurtunities, and he hasn't refused. Four-Leaves cants
her head, a question on the tip of her nose (you can see curiosity glowing
in her eyes) but, all in all, decides against giving Salem a chance to
explain yet another painful truth. With a bark, the red wolfcub dances
away from the spot under the outcropping, ears pricked outward. She
pauses, back to Salem, then looks over her shoulder with an innocent face,
left ear skewing. Does that mean you're too old to catch me?

Salem remains stiff and formal and cold for a moment more, and then
relents. Perhaps he considers it his penance for being too harsh with the
young Garou the other night. There's even the faintest hint of relief
visible, just before he snaps his jaws and leaps down from the slab. No.

Four-Leaves darts away to the far side of the caern with a
half-frightened, half-joyous bark. You know...the kind when you were
little and the person who was 'It' started coming after you. You ran away,
but you laughed. Once she's put a bit of distance between herself and the
dark wolf, she turns and faces him, playbowing. Come on then, catch catch
catch!

There's a solemn intensity about the Glass Walker even on the small moon,
that rage that never goes away, even during those -- theoretical --
moments when he's happy. He charges at the cub like a bullet train. She
wants to play tag? He can play tag. Gaia help her.

The red wolf prances in place, lips pulled back in a silly lupine smile.
She won't try to dart away yet- at that speed he was coming, he'd just
turn and catch her. Four-Leaves takes a few steps back as Salem draws
closer, silly smile still on her muzzle. Once he's within a foot of her,
she'll spring over his head. What she'll do after -that-...no time to make
an entire strategy! Jump!

Salem wasn't born, raised, trained, and drilled as an Ahroun for nothing.
As the Gnawer goes springing over his head, he whirls in place, twisting
around and back and up. There's the smallest hitch in his motions, so
minor that Four-Leaves, who never saw how fast he _used_ to be, or knew
him before that brawl with the vampire, would probably not notice it. What
she _can_ notice is the sound of his jaws clicking on the air inches from
her tail. A near miss, perhaps deliberate.

Four-Leaves twists her head back slightly in time to see Salem's jaws
appearing to close in on her tail. Said tail tucks in as she hits the
ground running, still barking and yipping like the carefree pup she is.
Without turning her head back to see how close Salem was behind her, the
halfmoon streaks to the other side of the Caern, leaping up to the rock
outcropping. She misjudges the distance, and ends up clinging to it by her
forepaws for a moment, before claws and smooth surface force her to fall
back to the ground.

By the time she's hit the ground, he's there, tall and black and brutishly
scarred about the face, with that one dead, white, blind eye sitting like
a lump in its socket. Anyone stopping by at just this time would be
horrifed -- Salem the Gnawer-hating murderer lunging at a defenseless cub,
jaws wide to rip and tear. But all Lyra gets is a nip on the flank, a
quick 'ow' that doesn't even draw blood. You're it, he tells her, and then
turns, racing toward the other end of the caern, toward the steep path
leading up and out.

Ow! the cub says indeed, batting a paw towards the Walker, but by then
it's far too late. Four-Leaves shakes her ruff out before getting to her
paws and chasing Salem down. Er. Well. If padding towards him at a
leisurely stroll could be defined as chasing. Left ear flicking back and
forth, the halfmoon watches Salem with a delightedly unconcerned
expression.

Salem perhaps senses this, and he stops at the base of the trail to look
back at her. His ears twitch backwards. Then he snorts and sits down.
Waiting.

One or two breaths after Salem seats himself, Four-Leaves springs to life
again, mobilizing every muscle to gain speed. Her muzzle is closed, no
teeth showing, but ears fold back as she races towards him. She even seems
to grow a little larger as she runs. Maybe it's just a trick of
perspective. Of course, green eyes didn't usually look amber up close.

Salem snaps out a mock-accusatory noise. Cheater! Then he's on his feet
again and up the trail, quicker than the eye, quicker than is quite
natural. Whatever the cub is doing, the cliath-once-fostern stays strictly
in the wolf-shape.

Four-Leaves shakes off the accusation of cheating with a flick of her tail
as she bounds after the black wolf. No, practicing! she rumble-justifies
as she runs. Once she comes into the valley, however, she stops and looks
rather confused. I've never been here, she chuffs, nosing a small dogwood
blossom before looking under the bush for Salem. Somehow she'd lost view
of him when she'd arrived. Hispo was bigger, but not much faster...she
shifts back down to lupus, sniffing the ground.

It's been years, literally, since Salem's had to engage in any serious
woodscraft, and he's rusty. He knows it, too, and makes only a moderate
effort at trying to hide from Lyra. His scent-trail is obvious, and if she
looks up, he's standing right in plain view, between two pine trees, one
golden eye gleaming, the nightingale charm glinting within the thick fur
of his throat.