Garou, Part II

Greg whirled around, his fingernails beginning to lengthen into wolf’s claws until he saw who had startled him. With a reproachful look he let his nails return to normal. Then, Greg smiled at his friend. “Do you have to do that every time you see me?” Greg walked over to the bench where she sat.

The girl seated on the log bench grinned up at him. “Only as long as you keep falling for it!” She laughed, and leaned back to look up into the night sky. Greg scowled a little. “Oh, I’m just teasing you. Chill, Greg.”

Kathy Friedman was a tall girl, although she still fell several inches short of Greg. Greg had always thought her quite attractive, but they had met as friends and it had, though it sometimes disappointed him, stayed that way for the five years since. Greg liked spending time with Kathy; he especially enjoyed the banter that highlighted their time together, though he did have to watch his mouth at times, as Kathy had a deserved reputation for being a bit caustic. It seemed, though, that she was in an easy mood tonight; Greg reasoned that it must be because so little of Luna’s face was showing in the sky. He too usually felt more at ease the farther the moon was from full.

“You’re more jumpy than normal tonight, Greg. What’s up?” Kathy turned towards him and scooted backwards, making room for him on the bench.

Greg sat down heavily beside her. It was then that he noticed her clothing, and why she had been a bit hard to see, aside from her impressive skill at stealth. She wore dark blue jeans, and her ponytail of blonde hair, resplendent with streaks of red, green, blue and other dyes, touched the top of her tight, black shirt. Other than her hair and fair-skinned face, she blended very neatly into the night. “The Svensons found a Black Spiral Dancer northwest of here,” Greg said grimly. Kathy raised her eyebrows. “It was a little while ago, have you been out here long?”

“A few minutes, but I haven’t heard anything.” replied Kathy.

“You’re probably too busy sneaking up on poor, unsuspecting people like me to hear the warning calls. You’re getting pretty damn good, though, I have to say. I didn’t even smell you, this time,” Greg jibed.

Kathy grinned, and in response chucked a bundle at Greg. “You forgot your coat in the woods.”

“Oh, thanks. You cold?”

“No. Hey,” said Kathy, “I think I see Hans and Frans.” She pointed to the far side of the clearing, where a pair of wolves had just trotted out of the trees. Both were large and dark, with black patches overlaid on their lighter gray hides. As they entered the clearing they slowed to a walk, and their fur began to thin as their limbs changed into human arms and legs. Fur was replaced by jeans and dusty jackets, and the Svensons rose up onto their hind legs.

“Oh, joy. The Svensons. Well, let’s see what happened,” said Greg, rising from the bench. Kathy followed as Greg approached the werewolf brothers. “Was that you with the hunting call earlier?” He regarded the pair coldly. It was no secret that Greg had no fondness for this pair. He considered the pair overly violent and careless, even for the Get of Fenris, the brothers’ tribe. Still, they were strong, even for Garou, and easily angered, so nobody who knew better was openly hostile towards them.

“Yeah, that was me.” The smaller of the two grinned, showing several teeth broken by his frequent brawling. “I knew we could handle the Spiral, so there was no need to call for help,” he said, quite biting off the last word contemptuously.

Kathy groaned quietly and rolled her eyes, and Greg sighed noisily. “You two took on a Black Spiral Dancer alone? Why did you risk that? What if its pack had been around too? You’re pretty damn lucky to have escaped with just that,” he finished, pointing to the long gash in Olie’s side. It shone with blood, and Olie was doing his best to conceal the pain that obviously ran through his abdomen.

“Hey, fuck you, man!” shouted Olie, who cringed only slightly as he did.

“Yeah,” retorted Lars, “you’re just jealous you didn’t get in on this fight! It was a good one, too! Man, Olie, you remember that chick shredding the Spiral? That was some good-”

“Chick?” Kathy cut in, her eyes narrowing at the brothers. “There was someone besides you and the Spiral in the fight?”

“Yeah, some crazy girl. I guess she was a cub or something.” Lars shrugged. “But I pissed her off pretty good, and she frenzied. Tore that Spiral’s throat out! Fuck yeah!” said Lars, high-fiving Olie, who clutched his side afterwards. Greg’s anger was now bubbling almost to the surface, held back only by practice and force of will. Kathy was whispering to Cathryn, who had just emerged from the caern stone.

“Hey, I don’t want to have to wait a week for this shit Black Spiral wound to heal!” Olie barked.

Macho, like only a Get of Fenris can be. Greg was, however, impressed that Olie could withstand the Black Spiral’s claw wound with so little outward signs of pain. Black Spiral Dancers were creatures of the Wyrm, and their claws and teeth often carried venoms and plagues that could cause excruciating pain and slow even a werewolf’s healing process.

Olie continued. “I know Gaia gave you the healing Gift, that’s what your tribe’s good for. So make with the healing, Mama’s Boy.”

At this, Greg knew that he had to distance himself from the brothers before he was driven to give them a scar of his own. Greg could have shrugged off any normal insult, but Get has just used the particularly hateful nickname of Greg’s tribe. The Children of Gaia, of which both he and Cathryn were members, were sometimes mocked for their intimate connection to the Earth Mother.

“Hey, he was talking to you, Greg!” Greg heard Lars’ shout and steadfastly ignored it, walking past the two Get of Fenris and heading for the woods to pick up the trail back to the scene of the fight. He almost hoped one would try to stop him, but they made no move; Greg knew they wouldn’t try anything while Cathryn was around. She might be a Child of Gaia, he thought, grinning, but those guys sure are intimidated by her! And it takes some doing to get through their skulls with anything short of a klaive. Greg brushed these thoughts out of his head as he moved into the forest; most of his attention was filled with the trampled brush and drops of blood the pair had left as they plowed back to the caern.

“Do you know where the fight was?”

Greg paused and glanced over his shoulder. A wolf trailed him closely, its mouth open and tongue out as it panted. Kathy had run after him into the woods. The Brightcoat certainly deserved her Garou name; the various and sundry dyes which chased through her hair ran just as brightly through her otherwise light fur and, in this form, made her easier to spot in the dark and very distinctive in the light. The green patches appeared to glow in the dark, and Greg smiled. In lupus form, Kathy looked like a huge, feral golden retriever making a fashion statement.

The same was true for most Glass Walkers, and Kathy was not one to be left out. Her tribe was heavily influenced by human trends, and they were far more active in human politics and business than any other tribe; the tribe was also filled with technophiles, though a proclivity for gadgets was often looked upon with suspicion and disdain in Garou society. Technology was a tool of the Weaver, an enemy of Gaia and of the werewolves.

“What’s funny?” asked Kathy, cocking her head at the look Greg had given her. Even when wearing the form of the wolf, Garou could easily speak to each other – Kathy’s barks and yips, combined with her instinctual lupine body language, let her clearly “say” anything a wolf could need to communicate, and a crude form of the Garou tongue aided with more complex subjects like feelings or humor.

“Just that your green patch glows. It looks pretty cool.” Greg let his eyes glow a similar green, but he had lost the trail of broken branches and blood-smeared leaves that had led him. “They came from this way. Can you help me track them back? The girl they mentioned must be in trouble, otherwise she would have come back with them.”

“Unless she realized how ass-annoying those two are.” Greg laughed, and Kathy lowered her nose to the ground and started sniffing. “Good point, though, we should hurry.” She quickly picked up the trail and trotted off through the trees, Greg close behind.