It is currently 08:26 Pacific Time on Fri Jun 18 2004.

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (4% full).

Cockroach Mansion -- Chaney's Room

This large bedroom is entirely bare of furniture and appears to be the home of
      either a smart animal or a very stupid human being. The nice wood floor 
      sports a dulled polish and scuffmarks, and there are smudges on the pale 
      blue walls. Some of the molding, along with bits around the door, is 
      scratched and chewed.
Along the wall between the outside wall and the one with the door is a ballet
      barre. In the middle of the room sits a big pile of tattered blankets 
      that have dog hairs on them. Newspaper in the corner is a place, 
      apparantly, for bodily waste. Also, several toys are scattered about, 
      mostly near the blanket-nest (+view).
The air in the room is, to speak bluntly, a little rank unless the window or
      door (preferably both) has been kept open for a while; it's the smell of 
      waste, unwashed dog, and unwashed human -- a zoo-like fetor.

Natalie ducks out of the upstairs hallway just as Cat's passing; she's got a
      stick with cymbals attached in one hand and a sturdy-looking firetruck in 
      the other. Those, and the promise of meeting their new cub'd been enough 
      to bring him with her to the door of Chaney's room - well, that and the 
      barely-veiled 'request' added onto the 'bring these' as she gave him the 
      toys to carry. Nat knocks on the door with her usual triple beat, waits a 
      moment, then pushes inside. "Morning, Chaney - new toys today!"

Chaney is in the guise of Naked Grunting Girl, sitting on the pile of blankets
      in a mose unladylike way with the stacking toy between her stretched-out 
      legs. The lupus has cleverly been sorting the blocks by color. After the 
      clock puzzle, this seems to be her favorite. She looks up quickly as 
      Natalie enters and her eyes brighten.

Cat looks extremely apprehensive, eyeing the toys he's suddenly burdened with
      for a moment before his nose wrinkles the smell hitting him. He takes a 
      reluctant step after Natalie, but when he catches sight of Chaney- a 
      clothesless Chaney -he stops short, gawks for a moment, and wheels around 
      to flee.
He's fifteen years old, but he looks twelve, and at times acts eight. His
      almost white-blond curls are curlier and more windward than ever, 
      tendrils dangling in his eyes and over his ears. With his too-thin body 
      and big round eyes, he looks like a child refugee, and from far away he 
      might be mistaken for a girl. His eyes are a brilliant blue-green shade, 
      a shock of color on his naturally pale face.
	 The boy has new clothes. A black, fitting T-shirt that says "Pigeons + Chili
      = No" in white letters; dark blue stonewash jeans that are slightly too 
      big and held up with a cheap brown belt; and the coup de grace, a flowing 
      black trenchcoat. Oddly enough, he wears it all with a thick air of 
      confidence. A silver cross dangles around his neck.

Natalie says "I brought Cat to meet you," as she plants a firm hand on the
      boy's shoulder, then casually kicks the door closed behind them both. In 
      a firm, yet pleasant voice she continues, "Cat, this is Chaney. Chaney, 
      this is Cat. Cat, why don't you show Chaney what you've brought her?"

Chaney watches Cat with intent interest, even leaning forward a bit, nostrils
      flaring visibly. Putting down the blocks she was holding when they came 
      in, she starts the process of standing up. Hands on the floor, she pulls 
      her feet in close (giving Cat probably the best view he's ever seen of 
      female anatomy) and then, by degrees, levers herself up to a wide-legged 
      and mildly unsteady stand. Someone has been /practicing/.

It would probably be the best view- and some would say the only view Cat would
      ever get -if he didn't have his eyes closed tighter than drums, the toys 
      clutched to his chest as though they might somehow protect him. His 
      attitude, just moments ago only apprehensive, has switched to full-out 
      panic. "She isn't- sh- she's not- 
      youdidn'tsayshewouldn'tbewearinganyclothes!" he hisses at Natalie, trying 
      to fight the hand that's turning him away from the door and towards the 
      cub.

"Well what did you expect?" Nat abandons any pretense of faux-cheerfulness, all
      the while keeping a very firm grip on his shoulder. "She's a /lupus/, 
      Cat. We're working on getting her standing! A week and a half ago she 
      hadn't even -shifted-, and you want her to be dressed for a prom?" 
      "--That's /very good/, Chaney," she adds, nodding emphatically to the 
      cub. "Very good girl! Come see what Cat's brought you!" Cat gets a 
      sotto-voiced, "You stay -here-. She isn't going to hurt you. She doesn't 
      even know what being naked -means-. Shift lupus if you have to. All she 
      wants is a friend."

Chaney stands in place, legs spread and arms hanging, breathing through her
      mouth. Her eyes are bright and active, focussed on Cat and the objects in 
      his hands. She shifts her weight a little, wobbling for a moment before 
      resuming her balance.

Something in the back of his head notes to ask what a prom was later....very,
      very reluctantly, Cat sticks his hands out, truck in one and cymbal-stick 
      in the other, eyes still closed tight. "Not sure how necessary it is for 
      -her- to know the meaning of n...-that- as long as -I- do," the theurge 
      bites back, but there's a sort of despairing, surrendering tone to the 
      words. He opens his eyes a slit and focuses on a spot above Chaney's head 
      and tries to remember to brathe. "...Hi," he croaks out, voice still 
      managing to break on the one syllable. "I-I'm Cat. Pleased to meet you."

Natalie sighs and leaves Cat's side to cross to Chaney, holding out one hand
      and encircling the girl's shoulders her other arm. "Come on, Chaney, 
      let's walk. Walk to Cat. Let's go see what Cat's brought, shall we? Cat 
      brought you a firetruck and a... a jingle stick. See? A firetruck and a 
      jingle stick." Coaxing and cajoling, chatting the whole way, she helps 
      the unsteady cub cross the floor toward the terrified Theurge.

Left foot, right foot. Hay foot, straw foot. With Natalie's help, Chaney walks
      unsteadily over to Cat. As she gets close, she starts reaching out for 
      the toys, uttering low, gutteral grunts.

The shiny, bright red truck lies appealingly in Cat's right hand, while the
      'jingle-stick' makes little tinny noises from the trembling of the 
      cliath. He keeps his eyes glued to that magic spot above Chaney's eyes 
      and his arms stuck straight out, looking not unlike a sleepwalking child 
      who'd raided the Christmas closet.

"Firetruck," Nat continues inexorably, pointing to the object in question,
      likewise identifying the other clearly. "Cat, once you've given them to 
      her, why don't you shift into lupus?" She keeps one arm wrapped around 
      Chaney's shoulders for support. "Make sure you identify yourself 
      properly. And when you're in homid, talk to her. A /lot/. She knows the 
      names of all her toys, so ask her to bring them to you. Also," Natalie 
      -is- an evil woman, after all, "I want you to start teaching her the 
      litany. In lupus, since she doesn't really understand English yet. Got 
      it?"

Chaney is interested in the toys, obviously, but first things first. Pulling
      away from Natalie, the tall auburn-haired girl half-stumbles, half-lunges 
      at Cat, arms spread.

Natalie's words break Cat's tranced stare, and blue eyes flash over at the
      Galliard. "Make Marcus teach her the Litany!" he says hotly, still 
      standing there with his arms out and not at all aware there's a girl in 
      close proximity until...It really is his worst nightmare come true. Cat 
      tumbles backwards and to the floor, jingle stick and firetruck still in 
      hands too shocked to let go- with a taller, heavier, naked girl on top of 
      him. So he does the only rational thing he can think of. He screams.

After a preliminary sigh of, "Oh for the love of..." Nat stoops down to bodily
      lift Chaney off the screamer and set her up on her feet again. "Chaney, 
      come here. Shift lupus, Chaney. Chaney, shift lupus." She plants one fist 
      on her hip - the other once more being used to help support the cub - and 
      scowls down at Cat. "Thomas has a hell of a lot of explaining to do, you 
      know that? Cat, you shift to lupus too. If I'd -wanted- Marcus to teach 
      her the litany, I would have bloody well -told- Marcus. I don't. I want 
      /you/ to do it."

Chaney seems to know what 'lupus' means, and in a twinkle the cub's in her
      birth form on all fours, giving herself a shake and then trotting toward 
      Cat with upcurled tail and perked ears, all confidence.

Cat's screaming stops the minute the girl- omigodanakedgirl -gets off him; he
      rolls over to his knees and stares at Natalie with a wet-eyed mixture of 
      horror, disbelief, and hurt. "-Fine-," he bites out, still on the verge 
      of tears. He shifts to lupus and takes a prance backwards from Chaney, 
      tail tucked and ears flicking back, radiating distrust and unhappiness.
This wolfcub is lanky and a bit on the small side. His fur is soft and long,
      like a Golden Retriever's coat, only a creamy sort of white. His muzzle 
      and face are snow-white with a black nose, and past his eyes the color 
      darkens slightly to a light, almost golden cream for the rest of his body 
      to the very tip of his tail. His paws are cream-colored with yellow-brown 
      claws, which are rather dull, as claws go; but his teeth are white and 
      needle sharp. His underbelly is snow-white, however, and off-center on 
      his chest is a large and crooked heart shaped snow-white splotch in 
      cream-colored fur. He weighs somewhere from 70-75 pounds, but he retains 
      a puppylike look about him. There's also something around his neck, a 
      white-gold cross on a very fine chain. Nearly the same shade of his fur 
      it's hard to notice unless he sits still.

Natalie firmly brushes off the front of her shirt, sending all the imaginary
      crumbs and wrinkles flying. "/Right/." She considers them both in turn 
      for a moment, then nods to herself. "Good. Cat, I mean it about the 
      Litany. She'd rather play than work, so see if you can get her to learn, 
      oh, at least three or four rules before you'll let her play with her 
      toys. If you just -can't- stand to be in the same room with her in homid, 
      see if you can coax her into one of those big t-shirts we've got." And 
      good luck with /that/, her tone suggests. "But I suggest you get over it. 
      She's still a toddler, mentally. If you actually think a toddler has any 
      interest in sex, you need some serious help. Now. I think Marcus is still 
      downstairs. Josh's probably around somewhere too, but I'd rather you did 
      this yourself. I have to run out to the bawn, but I trust you to take 
      good care of Chaney." The perceptive could guess that she'd rather trust 
      Cat than the other two, and the perceptive would probably be right.

Chaney seems very interested in Cat, but as he continues to retreat, she stops
      short, huffs, and turns away from him to investigate the new toys 
      instead. She sniffs at the two objects, her back toward the timid male.

Cat shakes out his coat with girlcub's not looking, casting dour glares at
      Natalie before pointedly turning his head away with a wounded chuff. Oh 
      he heard her all right, and he understands, but if his last weapon is the 
      cold shoulder then so help him Gaia, he'll use it full-force.

Natalie bends to ruffle the fur behind Chaney's ears, all the while still
      fixing Cat with implacable eyes. "I mean it, Cat. She's a damn smart 
      girl. Just keep concepts simple, and you two will be just fine. Think of 
      her as a toddler smart enough to attend college, and you'll be all 
      right." A last pat for Chaney and she heads for the door, turning in the 
      doorway with a last, ecumenical, "/Stay/."

Chaney wags her tail, looking up from her inspection of the toys to watch
      Natalie go. The door, when closed behind the Galliard, gets a yearning, 
      wistful look for a few moments. Then, completely ignoring Cat, she picks 
      the jingle stick up in her mouth and carries it back to the pile of 
      blankets.

Cat watches Chaney pick up her new toy and whines softly, ears skewing outward
      in a sign of resignation. Stick, he says finally, taking a hesitant step 
      closer to the cub and her corner. What you have there is a stick. A 
      noise-stick. ~Jingle~ stick.

The middle of the room, actually, which is where the blankets are kept.
      Dropping the jingle stick down next to the clock puzzle, Chaney turns to 
      stare flatly at Cat, ears cocked forward. Then, without responding, she 
      goes over to retrieve the fire truck.

And that's a ~truck~, Cat continues hopelessly, taking one more pawstep closer
      to the blankets. It's...red, like...um...robins are red. Red trucks are 
      called 'fire trucks'. He pauses, canting his head and thinking for a 
      moment. Let's pretend you're stupid old Keeps-the-Wolf, he says suddenly, 
      darting forward and snatching up the clock puzzle in his jaws.

The response is immediate and violent. With a possessive, angry snarl, Chaney
      drops the firetruck toy and charges at Cat with fangs bared. MINE!

Yes, yours! Cat agrees, loping further into the back of the room with the mess
      of blankets between them, bright eyes watching Chaney carefully. Yours 
      what? What is this? Is it a truck?

Unfortunately, the cub doesn't seem interested in conversation, not while Cat
      has HER toy in HIS mouth. And as he circles around the blankets, Chaney 
      leaps over them and at him, her jaws a-gape for punishment.

Cat's resolve flickers for a moment, his approach halted with indecision- so
      Chaney's teeth find their mark, ripping at his ear. With a pained yowl, 
      the Theurge wheels and shoves at her with his paws, snarling. No biting! 
      he growls out around the clock puzzle, which is firmly in his fangs. BAD 
      Chaney!

Chaney snarls and shoulders Cat _hard_, trying to use her greater mass to knock
      him over as her teeth continue to snap at him. She bristles and growls 
      and tries to jump up and 'mount' him, insisting on her dominance all the 
      way.

That does it. The toy no longer matters. Shoved to the ground, Cat drops the
      toy and shifts up to Hispo, blurring as he meets Chaney's teeth with his 
      own. He scrambles to his paws and literally throws himself across Chaney, 
      trying to use sheer weight to pin her down.
While a slight, diminutive boy, Cat in Hispo is far from 'slight'. This
      monstruous wolf-beast is thin and lean, with bony shoulders jutting above 
      skinny grey forelegs. The head is shaped like a wolf, but easily three 
      times larger, and the teeth proportional to match. Wild, electric-blue 
      eyes set in a pale grey face stare unblinkingly. The ears are grey, 
      splotched with white or cream; more heavy splotches of cream cover the 
      shoulders, paws, and spine of this creature, the rest of the body long, 
      downy grey fur. On his chest is a large white, vaguely 'x' shaped 
      splotch. His claws are light brown, large but brittle, not sharp. A thick 
      ruff of dark grey fur sets behind the head; a long, sleek tail balances 
      this creature like a rudder.

Chaney yelps aloud, thrown aside as Cat shifts up, skidding into the blankets
      and threatening to entangle them both -- cloth on bare floor under paws 
      making for notoriously slippery footing. Then she roars out: BAD! and 
      explodes upward into Crinos, trying to throw him off the way he did to 
      her.

Cat goes tumbling for the second time that day, skidding to a halt with his
      claws grasping ineffectively at the floor. He stares up defiantly at the 
      Crinos, then follows suit, refusing to be outdone- facing off with her, 
      separate by the messy blankets. His left ear twitches painfully from her 
      earlier bite and he just pants for a moment, getting more and more 
      frustrated and bewildered.
His skin has become coarse, white-blond fur with a touch of curl to it, and his
      face has sprouted a muzzle and sharp, curved teeth. He's taller than most 
      humans, 6' 3", but he still looks stretched out and too slender, not 
      enough muscle; the slight stoop in his posture doesn't help. Large, furry 
      ears perk out from the tangle of curls behind his head, and his tail 
      brushes the ground behind him, long-furred and a lot like a dog's. 
      Caramel brown claws extend from furred fingers, and glittering blue-green 
      eyes that don't indicate a full deck peer out from his face. In Glabro, 
      his eyes still seem human, but they're too feral to be called that now.

Chaney shows the smaller male her fangs, her muzzle wrinkled up in the most
      aggressive fashion, her posture slouched in a simian way, clawed hands 
      close to the floor. Her tongue flicks out and licks at her teeth, and she 
      growls steadily, staring at him.

All at once Cat dwindles even further, till he's the same small creature that
      entered her room earlier, albeit messier and a little red on one side of 
      his face. He leans down, picks up the long forgotten truck, and strides 
      across the room towards Chaney with determination born of a lack of 
      patience. "See this?" he says sternly, looking up at the nine-foot-tall 
      Crinos as though it had no business being there and shaking the truck in 
      his hand. "This is a -truck-. -Your- truck."

Chaney, teeth bared, snatches at the truck in such a way that could easily
      bring her claws into contact with fragile flesh.

Chaney gets the truck, and Cat gets a gash from forearm to palm. Fair trade.
      Cat takes a sharp intake of breath, then closes his eyes for a moment, 
      willing the pain back. Opening his eyes again, he stares up disdainfully 
      at the crinos and shows her his bleeding arm by thrusting out, making it 
      even more visible- but out to the side, not into her space. He's already 
      right in front of her as it is. "Lupus," he says loudly, forcefully, 
      trying to not let a wince get by. "-Lupus-. You can't have lessons if 
      you're in Crinos." Well, she could, but he's not gonna let her think she 
      can boss him around. Much.

Chaney reponds by turning her back on him and lumbering on all fours toward the
      door with the fire truck toy dwarfed within her massive jaws.

"Chaney, -lupus-," Cat repeats, giving in to the very insistent pain from his
      bleeding arm. He carefully cradles it to this stomach, staring at Chaney 
      darkly. "Chaney, you're in Crinos and that's -bad-. Lupus!"

Chaney sits down in front of the door. She could go right through it if she
      wanted to, of course, but doesn't. Ignoring Cat, she shifts down to homid 
      and starts examining the wood and brass toy firetruck, exploring how the 
      various parts of it open and close and have little things inside.

Cat bites his lower lip and just stares, although not at the reappearance of
      the naked Chaney...no, he's not even really seeing her right now. Slowly 
      he sits on the floor, barely on the edge of the blankets, and just holds 
      his arm close to him. And starts to cry. "I can't do this," he chokes out 
      angrily, watching the cub through blurry eyes. "I don't like girls, I 
      don't like...I can't teach anybody anything. Why won't you -listen?-"

Chaney continues to examine the toy firetruck, paying the weeping Theurge no
      attention. She takes things out of it one by one... then slowly puts them 
      back in. She discovers that it can roll on the round thingies on the 
      bottom and spends some time pushing it back and forth along the floor.

Eventually realizing he's going to lose an awful lot of blood this way, Cat
      shifts to lupus, and gingerly starts hobbling towards Chaney, looking 
      tired and timid. I'd like to play, he chuffs softly.

Chaney glances sidelong at Cat, her eyes narrowing slightly. Smoothly, she
      reverts to her breed form and, holding herself tall, with tail upcurled 
      and ears perked, sniffs at the smaller male.

Cat simply lies down and tries to ignore the fact he'd just been bested by a
      cub and a girl, and licks at his bleeding paw.

Chaney snuffles Cat all over and then gives him a lick. She's clearly not at
      all sorry, but she does seem more amiable. Toys are mine, Little Male. I 
      am Many Faces.

Cat looks like he's considering bristling at the 'little male' comment, but
      decides that would take energy he doesn't feel like summoning at the 
      moment. I'm Cat, he replies in a whuff, nursing his slowly-clotting leg. 
      One eye rolls to look at Many-Faces blankly. I'm supposed to be your 
      teacher.

Chaney cocks her head, puzzled at the name. Cat? Cat is small and spits and
      claws when you bite it. You are Cat?

That gets a faint snort out of the theurge. That's...that's -a- cat. Then he
      pauses, before adding dryly, Well, I'm small and I spit and claw when you 
      bite me. But I'm Garou. You're Garou. Your -name- is Many-Faces. And my 
      name is Cat. He cocks his head too, opposite of Chaney, and blinks. 
      ...Get it?

Chaney huffs derisively and paws at his head. I know _names_. I am very smart!
      I know Holds-Alpha and Follows the White Bear and Sun-Hair and Dark-Hair 
      and Does-Something-To-Rules-While-Happy. And now you. You are Cat. I know 
      names.

Cat accepts the playful blow without ire, but cants his head so that he's
      eyeing Chaney with a look that's doubtful. I don't understand you at all, 
      he heaves finally, nosing his leg and giving the paw a last lick. The 
      gash wasn't very deep, and would probably be gone by morning. All right. 
      You are smart. Holds-Alpha wanted me to teach you the Litany. Those are 
      rules...like, fight the Wyrm wherever it dwells and breeds. He snorts and 
      licks his lips. Or submit to those higher in station.

Chaney looks dismissive and turns her back on him, trotting back over to her
      blanket-nest. I know rules. Follows the White Bear told me rules.

Then tell me them, Cat says wearily, not following after Chaney, although his
      head watches her trot off. If you know them- if you're smart. You can 
      tell me what they are. Right?

Chaney noses around, finds the one dog toy in the group, and flops down on the
      blankets with it between her paws. She considers Cat loftily. I can tell 
      you.

Cat looks surprised at the dog toy, and wriggles his nose. I have one like
      that, he rumbles idly. Okay then, you know all the rules. Tell me.

Chaney explaines between chewing on the much-battered Kong toy. Garou only mate
      with human or wolf, never Garou. That makes runt sick pups. Garou always 
      fight bad thing called Wyrm. Garou not make another's territory their 
      territory. Garou not kill when other Garou shows throat. Best toys and 
      food for more-alpha Garou.

The lupus has a bored 'well, DUH' sort of manner when repeating the Laws that
      are common-sense instinct to those born canine.

The Theurge lies there, tailtip flicking, patiently as she recites the laws she
      knows. When she pauses, he flicks an ear and wait a second before 
      prompting, Do you know any more?

Chaney's ears twist backwards in a displeased way. _More_ rules?

Cat snorts again. There're -lots- more. But you only need to know the Litany
      for now. He pauses, trying to find a way to put them in terms she'd 
      better understand, in the same manner she'd rephrased them. Well, let's 
      start with the obvious, he grumbles. 'Submit to older or Alpha wolves'. 
      Holds-Alpha, for instance. When she says something, you do it. When 
      another cliath says something, you do it. Except for me, I guess, he 
      chuffs lowly. And in turn, there's 'be good to those beneath you'. So 
      when you are cliath, be nice to pups. Understand?

Chaney asks him what 'cliath' means.

Cat twitches his whiskers. You are a 'cub', he explains. Someone who is a very
      new Garou. After you have learned everything, you get a big test. 
      A...challenge. That is called a 'Rite of Passage'. If you pass it, you 
      become a 'cliath'. Cliath is a word for somebody who passes the Rite. 
      They're...grown up. No longer pups.

Chaney listens to this, sneezes once, then starts chewing on the Kong.

Another rule is 'don't eat humans', Cat adds after a moment. When you eat
      people, it makes you sick. Inside your head. Sometimes you'll have to 
      bite people, but never ever eat them. Okay?

The lupus isn't paying attention, or at least doesn't appear to be. She seems
      quite focussed on the Kong.

Cat yawns and licks at his paw again. Maybe that's too many rules for
      Many-Faces, he chuffs thoughtfully. You are very smart, but maybe not 
      that smart. Too bad. He gets to his paws, gingerly testing the injured 
      one on the floor. I will tell Holds-Alpha you only learned three new 
      rules today. She will be sad. She thought you could learn more than three.

Chaney remarks that she is _very_ smart and pushes to her paws. She shakes the
      Kong vigorously, then drops it and looks sternly at Cat. I have learned 
      many many rules _already_.

That's nice, Cat replies idly, with a faintly amiable loll of the tongue. I
      will tell Holds-Alpha you learned only three today. He turns and faces 
      the door, then shifts up to homid.

Chaney snap-snaps the air in a lupine version of a mild temper tantrum. No! No
      more rules until I go out! Then she pounces upon and attacks the Kong toy 
      savagely.

Cat pauses, good hand on the door, and eyes her with an air of mild surprise.
      "You can go out if...you tell me all the names of your news. Including 
      the new ones."

Chaney, ignoring the Theurge, shakes the Kong back and forth in a way that
      would snap the back of a small animal. Like a cat, maybe. She pauses, 
      then shakes it again and drops it. Then once again grabs it up and gives 
      it another violent shake.

He just sighs, and looks at his arm, which is caked with dried blood. "It was
      nice meeting you," Cat murmurs, without any sincerity. He opens the door 
      and shuts it quickly behind him, heaving a sigh of relief and then 
      heading to his own room wearily.

(Time passes...)

From afar, Natalie'd bribe her with special Bath Toys, which are only To Be
      Used when Taking A Bath. Squeaky rubber ducky. Squirty frog. Floating 
      stacking blocks. That sort of thing. And also... teach her how to blow 
      bubbles with a straw!
Natalie pages: And possibly even work on /saying/ Bath. Ba ba ba ba bath.
Long distance to Natalie: Chaney | "Ah ah ah ah."
Natalie pages: Close enough, hooray!

Natalie pages: http://www.kidstockmontana.com/bathtoys.html

Some time after Cat's less-than-successful meeting with the lupus cub, Natalie
      returns with more toys and uses them to lure Chaney into the tub for a 
      bath. These toys, it is explained, are Special Toys, for bathtime only. 
      There's a squeaky rubber ducky, floating stacking blocks, even a squirty 
      frog. The latter turns out to be a minor mistake, since Chaney, 
      discovering its use, manages to spray water over most of the bathroom. 
      But at least the Galliard's able to get her clean with a minimum of fuss 
      and almost no resistance at all.

Which is the state of things as a now-wet Nat leaves Chaney to roam in the
      upstairs hallway while she cleans the cub's room. "Gotta get you some 
      shelves," she tells the cub conversationally as she pokes her head 
      periodically out of the room to check on Chaney's location. "Because your 
      toys are scattered all over here and gone. ...No, Chaney, don't go in 
      there. That's Josh's room."

Chaney, understanding 'no' and 'Chaney', withdraws her hand from the knob to
      Josh's door and crawls on fingers and toes back to the open doorway of 
      _her_ room. Using the wall, she works herself up onto two feet and leans 
      against the doorframe as she peers inside, watching the Galliard from 
      behind stringy wet dreadlocks.

Joshua is out shortly after hearing slightly more than Chaney did: 'Chaney'
      'No' and 'Josh.' This is enough to summon forth the other Ahroun, looking 
      not terribly awake and not smelling to grand either. He blinks tiredly 
      into the hall, seemingly unsurprised by the naked-frolicking-cub.

Natalie bundles today's layer of newspaper into a garbage bag and grins at the
      girl, then knots the top and tosses it closer to the door. "Good job, 
      Chaney. And we got you clean, too. Chaney took a bath. -Bath-, Chaney." 
      Continuing to babble, she crosses to the window to open it wide. "Now for 
      clothes, and then we can go outside. It's damn gorgeous out there, isn't 
      it?" She spends more than a moment there, inhaling deeply of the fresh, 
      /clean/ air, and letting Chaney out of her sight. This could be a 
      problem."

Chaney's nostrils flare at the good fresh air smell. "Aa," she says. Using the
      wall and doorframe, she works her way into the room and manages, somehow, 
      the two steps to the barre Nat's installed along one wall. She leans 
      against this, clinging, says, "Aa," again (just like in the bath!) and 
      starts shuffling to the halfway point, approximately across from her 
      blanket-nest in the middle of the room.

Joshua shuffles after the Cub, into the room where Nat was airing out the room.
      "Ya. Nice day out there." He mumbles. And he would know this, having been 
      inside all day, how?

Well, there aren't windows in the walls for nothing. "That's right, Chaney,"
      Nat agrees as she turns, leaning back against the wall. "You took a 
      baaaath. ...Afternoon, Joshua," she adds calmly. "Doesn't Chaney look 
      better now? I gave up waiting for Marcus to do it, and just took care of 
      it myself."

"Could have asked me, you know." Josh notes evenly, standing some way to the
      door, barefoot. "It would have been done, you know." His attention is 
      mostly on the Elder, but he looks to Chaney every now-and-again.

Natalie thinks on that for a bit. "...I suppose I could have. Didn't think
      about it. She met Cat earlier today - and what a botchup /that/ was. But 
      are you willing to try and get her into clothes? If we can do that, I 
      won't worry about any nosy neighbors peeking in through the windows to 
      ogle our naked girl." Not that there -are- any neighbors close enough to 
      ogle without using binoculars, but. "Plus then we can take her outside. I 
      want her to meet Megan."

Not as if any neighbours would even want to look at the freaky-person house
      even if they where close enough to do that. Joshua grimaces. "That is 
      what I heard, then. Yeah, I cannot see a meeting between Cat and her 
      going well..." "Just stuff the cub clothes, or are you aiming for 
      something fancier?" Say nothing of the life expectancy of said clothes.

"Right now, something easy to get on and off. T-shirts. Sweats." Nat watches
      Chaney sorting the blocks by color, a grin lightening her face. "...I'll 
      get something Dedicated to her now if I have to, but I'd rather wait 
      until it's something that'll fit properly, you know?"

"We have a box of the stuff in a room upstairs. Which is what I got the stuff
      for Lucas out of. All the grey sweats and white T-shirts you could ever 
      want, all sizes. I do not know if it was Walker Rhya, or one of the 
      others, but the supplies are there for just this." Josh, still terribly 
      matter-of-fact. A little too matter-of-fact for Josh on a new moon, even.

Natalie nods. "I know. ...Thank you for mentioning it, though. If you could go
      get her a couple of things later on, maybe she'll be able to come sit 
      while we eat supper tonight."

"I... will be leaving soon." Josh replies, tense. "I will be heading off after
      the Great Hunt, from the Sept, but... from here, sooner. I need to pick 
      up things from Cutter Rhya."

Chaney continues to play with the stacking blocks, not paying much attention to
      the other two Garou. English is still mostly 'blah blah blah' to her. 
      Having sorted them by color, she's sifting through them and stacking them 
      by size, smaller ones on larger ones.

Natalie's eyebrows go up, her nostrils flare. "Oh really. Does this mean that
      you've made your choice?" She -sounds- calm enough, but it's those little 
      hints of body language that suggest she's feeling otherwise.

"I do not -have- to make any choice I do not want to make." Yep, there are
      those heebe-jeebe's in the air, saying what his voice doesn't. "But no, I 
      have not. Which is why I am leaving, to visit some places."

"Nice to know you're not playing by the same rules as the rest of us," Nat
      says, not moving from her spot. No, this wall is a good thing right now. 
      "When you decide that you want to, then you can come back."

(Joshua leaves at this point, due to RL obligations.)

Natalie snorts as Joshua heads out; she crosses to Chaney to join her near the
      blocks. "Good job, Chaney. Hm... shifting, I think. I gotta talk to you. 
      Chaney, shift lupus, all right?" And she does.

Chaney looks up, watching Joshua leave with a mildly puzzled expression, head
      cocked. Then she looks at Natalie, watches her shift and only _then_ puts 
      the blocks down and follows suit.

Holds-the-Line gives herself a good full-body shake, then plops her butt down.
      There. You smell much better to homid noses now. What did Speaks-Softly 
      tell you of the Litany?

Chaney looks confused, ears skewing. Who is Speaks Softly? Little Male Called
      Cat?

Holds-the-Line flicks her ears approvingly. Yes. That one. Tell me what he
      taught you about the Litany.

Chaney makes a derisive gesture and scratches herself with a hind leg. Fur
      feels better, she remarks, then tells the Galliard that Follows the White 
      Bear taught her rules, which she told to Little Male, who then told her 
      _more_ rules. But she doesn't know if she can believe Little Male. He 
      tried to steal her toys. He seems very weak.

Holds-the-Line champs her teeth at the cub. He speaks with my words, Many
      Faces. What he says if the rules is what -I- say of the rules. So. Tell 
      me the rules White Bear and Little Male told you.

Chaney lays her ears back and lowers her head, muzzle craning out to nuzzle the
      Galliard apologetically. Yes. Rules... Garou can mate with wolf, with 
      human, never never other Garou. Garou should always fight the big bad 
      thing called Wyrm. Garou must not take territory that is another Garou's 
      territory. Garou must not kill when other Garou submits. Garou must 
      submit to dominant Garou. Alpha Garou have first food. Garou must not eat 
      humans.

Chaney's manner hints at a 'well, isn't this _obvious_?' at certain parts of
      the Litany, the wolf-instinct parts of submission, domination, and 
      territory.

Holds-the-Line again accepts the submission and swipes her tongue over the
      cub's muzzle. Yes yes. These rules are simple, but not all know these 
      rules. So everyone must be told. Did either of them tell you why we have 
      these rules? ...Why you can change shape? she corrects herself.

Chaney tips her head. I can change shape because I am Garou.

Yes yes yes! Holds-the-Line's eyes half-close, her lips peeling back in a
      'grin' of contentment. I am pleased - very very pleased - with how well 
      you learn this. Many cubs do not learn as fast as you. Do you know what 
      Garou do?

Chaney wags her tail at the praise, her ears splaying out. She answers proudly
      that Garou change shape! Yes, she is a very very smart girl.

Yes, Holds-the-Line agrees, that is what Garou do. She doesn't seem quite as
      thrilled with this answer, though. I was not clear. Do you know why there 
      are Garou? Why we are here?

Chaney becomes more subdued. She thinks about this for a moment and scratches
      herself in the meantime. No, she answers at last.

Holds-the-Line, while she's scratching, yawns, ears splaying back before
      flipping forward again. Then I give you a choice. Would you rather learn 
      why Garou are here, or learn rest of rules?

Chaney notes, with a hopeful little whine, that she'd rather _play_... with
      stick that makes noise? Or other stick that makes noise?

Holds-the-Line remains unmoved. No. First rules, _then_ play. If you do not
      choose I will teach you both and there will be no playing until it is 
      dark.

Chaney whines again, putting her head down on her paws and staring at Natalie
      with sad, beseeching blue eyes.

Holds-the-Line is immune to puppy dog eyes, alas. Then I will teach you both.
      Rules first. Do not be mean to those under you. Like Sun-Hair, and 
      Dark-Hair.

Chaney whines again, then sighs, resigning herself to much time without play.
      She sits up and looks attentive. Do not be mean to omegas, she repeats.

Holds-the-Line straightens as well, assuming a 'lecturing' mode. Yes. Do not
      change where not-Garou can see you. Some not-Garou are all right. 
      Sun-Hair and Dark-Hair. Some that we will show you. But if they are 
      not-Garou and we do not tell you it is safe, do not shift. Keep it hidden.

(Then *I* had to leave for RL obligations, so handwaved is Natalie teaching
Chaney the rest of the Litany and some basic Triat.)