(Friendly) Ambush.
Friday, 4 November 2016 21:30![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trace_logs
4 November, 2016
The moon is in the waxing Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (33% full).
Turns out that Doctor Holt is not a teenager, not trying to evade police nor under parental detection so the choice of locale would be curious if not for their particular situation.
Being Werewolves and all.
Of late Reagan is beginning to sense when people have bad training news for her and it almost always seems to begin with 'lets go to the forest'. Admittedly, going out for an evening 'run' with Monica isn't a bad thing, the time before was genuinely fun.
Not the last time though, which involved burying a frightening number of misshapen Garou corpses. Reagan is trying to forget that one.
As her Prius is driven off the beaten path, she is ready. With a neutral expression she opens her glove compartment and unfurls a black trash bag, perfect for stashing her clothing and keeping them from getting wet on the forest floor. Something she picked up fairly quickly in all this. However, on the way she does converse a bit, "… Soo yeah. Alicia and Dakota have dragged me into morning exercise with jogging and martial arts. I did take Yoga for three semesters but this is… A whole new level. Did you know that Alicia was nearly Black Fury? I should have suspected, looking like an MMA psychopath like she does." A pause, "Not that all Furies are MMA psychopaths I mean but… ah…"
The conversation turns as they arrive at this new location. Exhaling slowly as she tries to get her bearings, figuring how far to the Sept this area might be. She's still quite new and getting used to landmarks. A thick forest makes it doubly difficult. As Monica spies through the windshield, Reagan steps out in her thick city wear and rain coat. Brandishing her extendible umbrella to keep the light rains from her head as she calmly looks around, seeing absolutely nothing but nature itself. Not the worst thing really, as she inhales the crisp, chill air.
She blinks, looking to the open car door and the remaining occupant, "What? Tracking? Tracking what?"
A thought occurs and she lifts a finger, "Wait a second now… If you think I'm going to catch and eat a rabbit raw…" Vaguely recalling Monica's implied rat catching back at the Greek House.
Even a Prius, quiet as they are, is audible to lupine hearing, and it is enough to draw Six-Shooter's attention from his evening patrol. The Glass Walker changes direction to see what's going on, but not in so much of a hurry as to be spotted amongst the underbrush. For now, he's just watching.
"I do, at some point," Monica says, offering a grin, stepping out of the car without bothering with the niceties Reagan does, the rain allowed to fall on her with little attempts to shield herself. She pauses, then, and shifts slowly to her war form once the car door is closed, dropping to all fours to stretch out her limbs, and pad around to the front of the vehicle. Six-Shooter, as yet, is not noted. Her attention is, for now, squarely on the Gaian.
~I'm the one you'll be tracking,~ she says. ~And I'll be tracking you,~ is added, with a distinctly canine smile. ~Call it a game of hide and seek for grown ups. I want to see how well you do in an ambush.~
Reagan is oblivious that there are eyes on.
The umbrella is tilted back to better let Reagan look up to the Destroyer's massive eyes perched upon vicious muzzle. Comically nonplussed in the shadow of such a terrible beast as she places one hand in her jacket pocket. The first ultimatum is met with a growing sideways smile, "If you're going to be Juggernaut'ing through the brush like that, you're making it easy on me. I've tracked specimens before." She bobs her head a touch as her eyes roll up, "Okay, Fomori aren't usually subtle about running for it. But still."
The second half of the game is met with a bit more trepidation, "Can't say I've had to hide too often." Immediately doubting her ability to evade an accomplished animal tracker such as the Fury.
Six-Shooter makes his way a little bit closer, just enough to come into view for the Fury, and twists one ear forward in recognition. For now, it seems that the Walker is going to play along.
Hide snorts at the response. The darkness doesn't lend much to seeing the expression of a face awash in black and grey fur, but there's amusement in that initial reaction, at least. ~You're underestimating me,~ she says simply, ~but that's all right. Just means we'll be out of the rain quicker so I can tell you what you did wrong.~ She looks Reagan over, then, ears pricked forward. ~Change,~ she says. ~Your choice of form, so long as it's got a nose that can track.~
Still not noticing the extra body nearby, Reagan exhales dramatically, "Fine."
That said she then folds her umbrella yet again and slides back into the car, closing the passenger door behind her yet leaving it open just a sliver. The car shifts on its wheels a fraction as Reagan begins slipping out of her clothes one layer at a time. Thankfully for her privacy, the windows are tinted. It also gives the other two Garou a minute to commune without the Doctor noticing.
At the whole 'privacy' thing, there's a distinct if quiet lupine chuckle from the woods, followed by a more questioning posture afterwards as the ahroun slips out of the underbrush to sit by a tree. She's new. Six-Shooter does not recognise her. A brief pause, and then the suggestion. Six-Shooter could be the ambush. He'll be nice.
Hide's head does, indeed, turn towards Six-Shooter in lieu of Reagan absconding to the car, the suggestion met with a couple wags of her tail and the lolling tongue of a decidedly canine smile. She's all for this, clearly. I'll be loud enough to follow. The sounds are in an odd tone, such that, to Reagan, what hints of them there are just sound prompting and anxious. The sound of the rain does an effective job of muting everything except the impression of 'follow', which may give the Doctor the impression that she's missing necessary instructions. Indeed, she might be, as the Fury appears to be padding off into the forest.
At the extra sound outside, Reagan just assumes it's Monica issuing the Wolf equivalent of smack talk and boasting of her future victory. Of which, The Doctor only grumbles something about 'being back in highschool'. After a few moments, the white Prius door opens and a Eurasian coated Wolf bounds out with a shake of her coat. The animal has a proper sheen to her gold-brown fur with hardly a blemish, looking more like a well-cared for dog than a wild animal. Her lifted, dainty muzzle has a vaguely snooty air to her as she looks about, noticing the distinct lack of Crinos nearby.
So it's on, then.
With a huff the Wolf starts with the obvious, walking over to the initial gigantic footprints of Hide-In-Whispers and sniffs carefully. Again annoyed with the lack of color palette in this form, but the lighter frame and footprints are likely her only hope to avoid the superior tracker.
Six-Shooter waits somewhat, keeping a decent distance behind Reagan as they start out. The ahroun is keeping his ears twisted forwards to the sounds of the Fury further ahead, and attempting at least to be light on his feet.
Hide's distinct scent blends seamlessly into the smells of the forest made poignant by the change, and by the rainfall. And though remarkably lightfooted for a crinos of her size, prints, undoubtedly, are made. Still, though, they— vanish, after a while. The scent trail is there, certainly, kicked up along the forest floor, but even in a clearing where the Fury should be visible, she's not. There's a rustle here and there, of course— a bush getting disturbed, some underbrush unsettled, a thin branch near to the ground swaying— but the source of it simply isn't there, even if her trail is easily followed.
Watches-The-Small has difficulty discerning the Fury's smell, as she has never truly honed her wolf senses much at all. She pads a few feet forward but pauses, dark eyes surveying the forest ahead carefully.
She's at a crossroads.
The Doctor reasons this could easily be a trap. The trail is too obvious. Strategically she reasons Monica would make a significant trail in one direction with Crinos, then double back and wait around a tree in Lupus or even Homid— wait for the golden wolf to follow and then pounce from the flank.
The wolf gets an idea.
Reagan immediately turns about and lopes back to the car. She hops her front two paws onto the passenger seat and grabs the top most item which… happens to be her underwear. Which will also be the item most suffused with her scent… And its just Monica so who cares.
The sly wolf then runs in the perfectly opposite direction of the obvious trail. Getting a reasonable distance into the thick of the woods.
He did promise to be nice. The Glass Walker hears the change in direction and slows down, circling ahead and around the car, and shifts up as he does so. It's not quite the ambush that he wanted, but as Reagan runs past the tree that Six-Shooter situated himself behind, he reaches out and attempts to grab her with one large crinos hand, by the scruff of her neck and lift her into the air. ~Gotchya.~ Or at least, as close as the word can be approximated.
There was a moment where Watches-The-Small was pleased with herself. At the very least she reasoned this would remind Monica that she's clever! However, little does Reagan know the Black Fury has an accomplice.
The wolf is easy pickings, running past the tree with a black garment in her jaws without a moment of concern… Until she's bodily lifted into the air! She reflexively makes a very loud yelp, spitting out her conveyance and expelling a small litany of lupine shrieks of terror! Almost immediately she notices this is NOT Monica. Images of all those Black Spiral bodies flash in her mind and she is way, way more terrified than one would have expected. Her limbs thrash and flail about, desperately trying to squirm her head free!
It's not long after Six-Shooter gets in on the action, that Reagan is in a panic, that the Glass Walker is joined by the Fury who started this whole mess, the attention she calls to herself by virtue of pounding one heavy, crinos fist on a nearby tree causing the haze that's obscured her to lift, like a veil of smoke being parted. It's actually quite a neat effect if you're not about to die of a heart attack.
~Good job,~ she says to Six-Shooter. ~Turned this lesson plan from 'intermediate' to 'expert,' but at least I know what we're dealing with.~ For the panicked wolf's sake, she reverts to breed form and says, "Hey," voice taking on a soothing tone, the raw terror in Reagan's reaction warranting a bit of a 'cool down.' "It's okay. This is Six-Shooter, one of the Guardians. He's an ally; a friend. You're safe. And with guys like him walking the perimeter, places like this always will be. Okay?"
It's the yelps and whines of fear that bring Karin moving in this direction— they're the kind of sounds that carry, and that a Garou learns early to listen for. It's no howl to summon aid, perhaps, but it still means that something is very likely wrong, and that's worth investigating. She can always go back for the plants she'd been gathering. Not quite sure what to expect, she relaxes on seeing Monica there with them and catching the last part of the her reassurance to Reagan.
If it's possible for a crinos to look sheepish, the ahroun manages it for a moment, ears going flat as the wolf in his hands panics. Oops. ~Been a long time,~ he rumbles in greeting towards Mona, and then looks back down, putting the Gaian back down on the ground after a minute or so in the air.
He leans back against the tree after that, a step backwards. It's a little towards making himself seem less threatening, but he also doesn't seem inclined to return to his birth form quite yet. The newcomer gets a twist of a glance, and then an introduction. ~I. Uh…~ A moment, and he regains his composure. ~Six-Shooter. Ahroun and Fostern of the Glass Walkers, packed under Coyote, and Guardian of this place.~
It's an excellent thing that Monica wisely shifted to homid and tried to calm the panicked, squirming wolf down. The moment Six-Shooter releases Watches-The-Small the first inclination she has is to run into the woods as fast as her padded feet can take her until she collapses from exhaustion. However, unlike a true Fox Frenzy that Garou sometimes experience, a friendly voice keeps her from rushing into the wilderness hell-bent on getting lost.
The wolf does race about for a few moments, running away at first but then running in a manic zig-zag before freezing in place, chest heaving with mouth and eyes wide, tail tucked firmly between her back legs. Many moments pass as the gold-brown wolf stares at Monica, trying to see her from the images of Black Spiral Dancer corpses clawing for her… Congealing the image into Six-Shooter, still menacing but not in the Shrieking Whippoorwill kind of way.
The fear makes its natural evolution into Anger.
Watches-The-Small bears her teeth, snarling and barking sharply at the reassuring Black Fury. Snapping in the air as she runs in a quick circle, trying to get a handle on this trust betrayal and calm herself down. Thankfully, being a wolf, being unable to offer a hundred invectives in a Fostern's presence keeps her from adding yet another faux pas on her prior mountain.
That certainly gets a look.
And, really, it's the sudden blast off into incoherent rampaging that nearly seals the deal on Monica keeping her cool, the Fury raising a hand to cover signs of a smile as Reagan's 'rant' begins, a glance shot towards Karin and a nod to follow, though her eyes flit back to the barking Gaian.
"Not quite the reunion I was expecting," she asides to Six-Shooter, though god only knows if it can be heard over all that noise. "All right," she says, then, loud enough to (TRY and) get Reagan back into Listening mode, "so that was a mean trick to pull when you thought it was just the two of us. But that's just the thing, isn't it? Since when does a fomor or a Spiral Dancer care about being 'nice,' or about 'playing by the rules?'"
Karin says, "Hail, Guardian, and well met. Karin Alexander, rited Avenges-the-Past back when this was still the Hidden Walk, in service to Fog. Daughter of Pegasus, Moon-Dancer, and Cliath, returned home after being lost in the Umbra for a very long time. Also this sept's new Keeper of the Land, so particularly pleased to meet you, since I'll need you and your pack to help be my eyes and ears on the bawn for matters that need my attention, as I in turn help to serve as yours in matters of defense." Someone's inclined to be a bit more on the formal side tonight, though from the sound of it, to a large extent that's also just how she speaks.
Six-Shooter doesn't seem that fazed by the panic, that's for certain. He nods once in response to Karin's greeting, and then with a clear glance towards Reagan, almost reluctantly shrinks down to his birth form and looks at Mona, "I was being nice, mija," he says, almost in protest, his native language tinting the words. There's a long sigh, and a nod, and his attention shifts back to Karin. "You should talk to Thane-rhya if you haven't already," he asides to Karin. "Most of my packmates are for the most part in the city; his pack is the Guardian pack here." Under his breath, Trace continues, "Me cago en todos los santos I need a goddamned motherfucking cigarette…" Followed by rooting around through the pockets of his jeans until he finds just that.
Watches-The-Small has a good several moments of impotent rage before the wolf settles down into a wide stance with ears pinned back. At least she's no longer bearing her teeth as she indeed listens, shoulders with raised heckles still heaving as she has yet to catch her breath. Unfortunately for Karin the wolf snaps her gaze at her accusingly, figuring she must also be in on this 'lesson' just like Six-Shooter. It makes sense, being a fellow Black Fury after all.
The lupine hunts about for a moment to snatch up her undies that were carelessly tossed to the wet forest floor. A rather comfortable lacy affair from Victoria's Secret, that shit is comfy. When it isn't damp. Needing clearer communication than she's capable of as a Wolf, she lopes away then back to the Prius, presumably to change back into homid form and give the others a chance to talk amongst themselves a moment.
And while Monica would love to add to the conversation (as well as have a cigarette of her own, god knows), she is nonetheless tied up in what she'd intended to do this evening. Still, Trace is afforded a smile, and, "I know," as she jogs on after the wolf. "And you were. I was the one being mean by going along with the idea." She raises a hand in a 'one second' gesture soon after, shifting down to wolf form to give chase, presumably looking to get to the car before Reagan does, barking ~Hey!~ after her. ~Not done yet!~
Karin aims a puzzled look at the irate wolf, shaking her head as Reagan departs with a similar sort of tolerance that one might show a strange toddler throwing a temper tantrum. "Ah. If I'd paid more attention to Coyote, and less to Guardian, I'd have realized that you were part of Felix's pack. And yes, I made my claim at the moot the other day, so he's aware, I just haven't met most of the Guardians as yet."
Trace nods, and shrugs, tilting the pack of cigarettes in offer towards Karin after he's lit one for himself. "I'm… not really one for the social functions most of the time, or I'd have been there," he says, on the quiet side.
Karin raises a hand to indicate her refusal. "The social functions are part of what keep us unified," she reminds him. "Although in this case, probably for the best that you didn't. I was more than half expecting it to end in bloodshed."
Trace tucks the pack into his pocket, and chews at his upper lip for a long moment, and then grins, waving the cigarette slightly in the air for a moment. "Definitely better, in that case," he says. Leaning against a tree, with the cigarette, Trace manages to be nearly the picture of calm, but even on this thin of a moon it's a calm that like the still surface of a pond threatens to break with provocation. Calm, for an ahroun at least. "And yeah, I know. There's just… small social, like this, I can handle. Too many people, garou, whatever, in one place, and well. No es bueno." The grin that follows is self-deprecating, but the laughter that accompanies it is honest. "In any case, pleasure to meet you. How long is 'a very long time'?"
Karin says, "As it turns out, nearly fifteen years. I was a cub with Alicia, though she was sent on her Rite of Passage a few months before I went on mine. Needless to say, a few things have changed since then. The caern and bawn are all but unrecognizable, and most of the people I knew are long since gone."
Trace whistles quietly, and spends a good long moment looking at Karin as though to try and see some evidence of fifteen years, and eventually shakes his head, and then a moment later nods. "Things seem to change a lot around here," he says. "I'll spare you the corny platitudes that pop to mind, though. It's… a good place, although I can't say much for the city. I didn't get to spend much time out there before picking up being a Guardian. Hopefully once things settle a bit more…" he shrugs.
Karin says "There are… or were… good points in the city. From what I've seen of it, I fear it may have gotten worse overall in the time I've been away, though I don't claim to be an expert, either. I lived there when I still thought I was just a human, but never spent a great deal of time there after my first change."
Trace nods, and takes a long drag from his cigarette. "I've never been that at home out here in the woods, but there's too few Guardians, and the Bawn is big. Especially with the recent troubles, I felt like this was where I was the most use." He pauses, and shrugs again. "Now, moving forward? We'll see, I guess."
Karin says, "There was a time when I felt the same. Now… now a city the size of St. Claire feels very strange to me. Though I do still love its libraries— if that had changed, I'm not sure what I'd do." She laughs softly. "I'd probably not be me any longer at that point."
The Glass Walker grins. "Libraries are part of a city's soul," Trace says, taking another long puff of his cigarette. "They keep it alive, like the trees do the forest. Keep the people from falling further into darkness and corruption." Then the ahroun goes quiet for a moment, almost bemused by his own words, or more likely, where they came from. "Right then."
Karin smiles gently. "You sound like Hypatia." This is apparently a high compliment, if her tone is any indication, although she offers no further explanation of it. She considers him a moment. "Might I ask if you can already hear the echoes of what came before, when you listen at a spot?"
By some virtue, Trace manages to not say anything, but simply nod and accept the compliment, and then he sighs. "That is one I don't know, although I'd like to learn it, someday. I do know the gift that calls on tool mastery and the spirits of man-made things."
Karin nods. "Then as another who feels the same of libraries, I should like to teach you. It may be of aid to you in your duties as guardian, whether in the woods or in the city."
Trace nods, putting out the butt of his cigarette with his fingers before dropping it into his pocket. "I'd like that," he says. "I was on my patrol, before… all that," he looks towards the direction that Mona and Reagan disappeared off in, and gives a brief slightly-too-feral grin. "But in any case, I'd appreciate that, and I certainly have nowhere else to be… And if there's anything I can do for you, when I'm not on patrols I'm easily enough found by the Sept compound or the Caern."
The moon is in the waxing Crescent (Theurge) Moon phase (33% full).
Turns out that Doctor Holt is not a teenager, not trying to evade police nor under parental detection so the choice of locale would be curious if not for their particular situation.
Being Werewolves and all.
Of late Reagan is beginning to sense when people have bad training news for her and it almost always seems to begin with 'lets go to the forest'. Admittedly, going out for an evening 'run' with Monica isn't a bad thing, the time before was genuinely fun.
Not the last time though, which involved burying a frightening number of misshapen Garou corpses. Reagan is trying to forget that one.
As her Prius is driven off the beaten path, she is ready. With a neutral expression she opens her glove compartment and unfurls a black trash bag, perfect for stashing her clothing and keeping them from getting wet on the forest floor. Something she picked up fairly quickly in all this. However, on the way she does converse a bit, "… Soo yeah. Alicia and Dakota have dragged me into morning exercise with jogging and martial arts. I did take Yoga for three semesters but this is… A whole new level. Did you know that Alicia was nearly Black Fury? I should have suspected, looking like an MMA psychopath like she does." A pause, "Not that all Furies are MMA psychopaths I mean but… ah…"
The conversation turns as they arrive at this new location. Exhaling slowly as she tries to get her bearings, figuring how far to the Sept this area might be. She's still quite new and getting used to landmarks. A thick forest makes it doubly difficult. As Monica spies through the windshield, Reagan steps out in her thick city wear and rain coat. Brandishing her extendible umbrella to keep the light rains from her head as she calmly looks around, seeing absolutely nothing but nature itself. Not the worst thing really, as she inhales the crisp, chill air.
She blinks, looking to the open car door and the remaining occupant, "What? Tracking? Tracking what?"
A thought occurs and she lifts a finger, "Wait a second now… If you think I'm going to catch and eat a rabbit raw…" Vaguely recalling Monica's implied rat catching back at the Greek House.
Even a Prius, quiet as they are, is audible to lupine hearing, and it is enough to draw Six-Shooter's attention from his evening patrol. The Glass Walker changes direction to see what's going on, but not in so much of a hurry as to be spotted amongst the underbrush. For now, he's just watching.
"I do, at some point," Monica says, offering a grin, stepping out of the car without bothering with the niceties Reagan does, the rain allowed to fall on her with little attempts to shield herself. She pauses, then, and shifts slowly to her war form once the car door is closed, dropping to all fours to stretch out her limbs, and pad around to the front of the vehicle. Six-Shooter, as yet, is not noted. Her attention is, for now, squarely on the Gaian.
~I'm the one you'll be tracking,~ she says. ~And I'll be tracking you,~ is added, with a distinctly canine smile. ~Call it a game of hide and seek for grown ups. I want to see how well you do in an ambush.~
Reagan is oblivious that there are eyes on.
The umbrella is tilted back to better let Reagan look up to the Destroyer's massive eyes perched upon vicious muzzle. Comically nonplussed in the shadow of such a terrible beast as she places one hand in her jacket pocket. The first ultimatum is met with a growing sideways smile, "If you're going to be Juggernaut'ing through the brush like that, you're making it easy on me. I've tracked specimens before." She bobs her head a touch as her eyes roll up, "Okay, Fomori aren't usually subtle about running for it. But still."
The second half of the game is met with a bit more trepidation, "Can't say I've had to hide too often." Immediately doubting her ability to evade an accomplished animal tracker such as the Fury.
Six-Shooter makes his way a little bit closer, just enough to come into view for the Fury, and twists one ear forward in recognition. For now, it seems that the Walker is going to play along.
Hide snorts at the response. The darkness doesn't lend much to seeing the expression of a face awash in black and grey fur, but there's amusement in that initial reaction, at least. ~You're underestimating me,~ she says simply, ~but that's all right. Just means we'll be out of the rain quicker so I can tell you what you did wrong.~ She looks Reagan over, then, ears pricked forward. ~Change,~ she says. ~Your choice of form, so long as it's got a nose that can track.~
Still not noticing the extra body nearby, Reagan exhales dramatically, "Fine."
That said she then folds her umbrella yet again and slides back into the car, closing the passenger door behind her yet leaving it open just a sliver. The car shifts on its wheels a fraction as Reagan begins slipping out of her clothes one layer at a time. Thankfully for her privacy, the windows are tinted. It also gives the other two Garou a minute to commune without the Doctor noticing.
At the whole 'privacy' thing, there's a distinct if quiet lupine chuckle from the woods, followed by a more questioning posture afterwards as the ahroun slips out of the underbrush to sit by a tree. She's new. Six-Shooter does not recognise her. A brief pause, and then the suggestion. Six-Shooter could be the ambush. He'll be nice.
Hide's head does, indeed, turn towards Six-Shooter in lieu of Reagan absconding to the car, the suggestion met with a couple wags of her tail and the lolling tongue of a decidedly canine smile. She's all for this, clearly. I'll be loud enough to follow. The sounds are in an odd tone, such that, to Reagan, what hints of them there are just sound prompting and anxious. The sound of the rain does an effective job of muting everything except the impression of 'follow', which may give the Doctor the impression that she's missing necessary instructions. Indeed, she might be, as the Fury appears to be padding off into the forest.
At the extra sound outside, Reagan just assumes it's Monica issuing the Wolf equivalent of smack talk and boasting of her future victory. Of which, The Doctor only grumbles something about 'being back in highschool'. After a few moments, the white Prius door opens and a Eurasian coated Wolf bounds out with a shake of her coat. The animal has a proper sheen to her gold-brown fur with hardly a blemish, looking more like a well-cared for dog than a wild animal. Her lifted, dainty muzzle has a vaguely snooty air to her as she looks about, noticing the distinct lack of Crinos nearby.
So it's on, then.
With a huff the Wolf starts with the obvious, walking over to the initial gigantic footprints of Hide-In-Whispers and sniffs carefully. Again annoyed with the lack of color palette in this form, but the lighter frame and footprints are likely her only hope to avoid the superior tracker.
Six-Shooter waits somewhat, keeping a decent distance behind Reagan as they start out. The ahroun is keeping his ears twisted forwards to the sounds of the Fury further ahead, and attempting at least to be light on his feet.
Hide's distinct scent blends seamlessly into the smells of the forest made poignant by the change, and by the rainfall. And though remarkably lightfooted for a crinos of her size, prints, undoubtedly, are made. Still, though, they— vanish, after a while. The scent trail is there, certainly, kicked up along the forest floor, but even in a clearing where the Fury should be visible, she's not. There's a rustle here and there, of course— a bush getting disturbed, some underbrush unsettled, a thin branch near to the ground swaying— but the source of it simply isn't there, even if her trail is easily followed.
Watches-The-Small has difficulty discerning the Fury's smell, as she has never truly honed her wolf senses much at all. She pads a few feet forward but pauses, dark eyes surveying the forest ahead carefully.
She's at a crossroads.
The Doctor reasons this could easily be a trap. The trail is too obvious. Strategically she reasons Monica would make a significant trail in one direction with Crinos, then double back and wait around a tree in Lupus or even Homid— wait for the golden wolf to follow and then pounce from the flank.
The wolf gets an idea.
Reagan immediately turns about and lopes back to the car. She hops her front two paws onto the passenger seat and grabs the top most item which… happens to be her underwear. Which will also be the item most suffused with her scent… And its just Monica so who cares.
The sly wolf then runs in the perfectly opposite direction of the obvious trail. Getting a reasonable distance into the thick of the woods.
He did promise to be nice. The Glass Walker hears the change in direction and slows down, circling ahead and around the car, and shifts up as he does so. It's not quite the ambush that he wanted, but as Reagan runs past the tree that Six-Shooter situated himself behind, he reaches out and attempts to grab her with one large crinos hand, by the scruff of her neck and lift her into the air. ~Gotchya.~ Or at least, as close as the word can be approximated.
There was a moment where Watches-The-Small was pleased with herself. At the very least she reasoned this would remind Monica that she's clever! However, little does Reagan know the Black Fury has an accomplice.
The wolf is easy pickings, running past the tree with a black garment in her jaws without a moment of concern… Until she's bodily lifted into the air! She reflexively makes a very loud yelp, spitting out her conveyance and expelling a small litany of lupine shrieks of terror! Almost immediately she notices this is NOT Monica. Images of all those Black Spiral bodies flash in her mind and she is way, way more terrified than one would have expected. Her limbs thrash and flail about, desperately trying to squirm her head free!
It's not long after Six-Shooter gets in on the action, that Reagan is in a panic, that the Glass Walker is joined by the Fury who started this whole mess, the attention she calls to herself by virtue of pounding one heavy, crinos fist on a nearby tree causing the haze that's obscured her to lift, like a veil of smoke being parted. It's actually quite a neat effect if you're not about to die of a heart attack.
~Good job,~ she says to Six-Shooter. ~Turned this lesson plan from 'intermediate' to 'expert,' but at least I know what we're dealing with.~ For the panicked wolf's sake, she reverts to breed form and says, "Hey," voice taking on a soothing tone, the raw terror in Reagan's reaction warranting a bit of a 'cool down.' "It's okay. This is Six-Shooter, one of the Guardians. He's an ally; a friend. You're safe. And with guys like him walking the perimeter, places like this always will be. Okay?"
It's the yelps and whines of fear that bring Karin moving in this direction— they're the kind of sounds that carry, and that a Garou learns early to listen for. It's no howl to summon aid, perhaps, but it still means that something is very likely wrong, and that's worth investigating. She can always go back for the plants she'd been gathering. Not quite sure what to expect, she relaxes on seeing Monica there with them and catching the last part of the her reassurance to Reagan.
If it's possible for a crinos to look sheepish, the ahroun manages it for a moment, ears going flat as the wolf in his hands panics. Oops. ~Been a long time,~ he rumbles in greeting towards Mona, and then looks back down, putting the Gaian back down on the ground after a minute or so in the air.
He leans back against the tree after that, a step backwards. It's a little towards making himself seem less threatening, but he also doesn't seem inclined to return to his birth form quite yet. The newcomer gets a twist of a glance, and then an introduction. ~I. Uh…~ A moment, and he regains his composure. ~Six-Shooter. Ahroun and Fostern of the Glass Walkers, packed under Coyote, and Guardian of this place.~
It's an excellent thing that Monica wisely shifted to homid and tried to calm the panicked, squirming wolf down. The moment Six-Shooter releases Watches-The-Small the first inclination she has is to run into the woods as fast as her padded feet can take her until she collapses from exhaustion. However, unlike a true Fox Frenzy that Garou sometimes experience, a friendly voice keeps her from rushing into the wilderness hell-bent on getting lost.
The wolf does race about for a few moments, running away at first but then running in a manic zig-zag before freezing in place, chest heaving with mouth and eyes wide, tail tucked firmly between her back legs. Many moments pass as the gold-brown wolf stares at Monica, trying to see her from the images of Black Spiral Dancer corpses clawing for her… Congealing the image into Six-Shooter, still menacing but not in the Shrieking Whippoorwill kind of way.
The fear makes its natural evolution into Anger.
Watches-The-Small bears her teeth, snarling and barking sharply at the reassuring Black Fury. Snapping in the air as she runs in a quick circle, trying to get a handle on this trust betrayal and calm herself down. Thankfully, being a wolf, being unable to offer a hundred invectives in a Fostern's presence keeps her from adding yet another faux pas on her prior mountain.
That certainly gets a look.
And, really, it's the sudden blast off into incoherent rampaging that nearly seals the deal on Monica keeping her cool, the Fury raising a hand to cover signs of a smile as Reagan's 'rant' begins, a glance shot towards Karin and a nod to follow, though her eyes flit back to the barking Gaian.
"Not quite the reunion I was expecting," she asides to Six-Shooter, though god only knows if it can be heard over all that noise. "All right," she says, then, loud enough to (TRY and) get Reagan back into Listening mode, "so that was a mean trick to pull when you thought it was just the two of us. But that's just the thing, isn't it? Since when does a fomor or a Spiral Dancer care about being 'nice,' or about 'playing by the rules?'"
Karin says, "Hail, Guardian, and well met. Karin Alexander, rited Avenges-the-Past back when this was still the Hidden Walk, in service to Fog. Daughter of Pegasus, Moon-Dancer, and Cliath, returned home after being lost in the Umbra for a very long time. Also this sept's new Keeper of the Land, so particularly pleased to meet you, since I'll need you and your pack to help be my eyes and ears on the bawn for matters that need my attention, as I in turn help to serve as yours in matters of defense." Someone's inclined to be a bit more on the formal side tonight, though from the sound of it, to a large extent that's also just how she speaks.
Six-Shooter doesn't seem that fazed by the panic, that's for certain. He nods once in response to Karin's greeting, and then with a clear glance towards Reagan, almost reluctantly shrinks down to his birth form and looks at Mona, "I was being nice, mija," he says, almost in protest, his native language tinting the words. There's a long sigh, and a nod, and his attention shifts back to Karin. "You should talk to Thane-rhya if you haven't already," he asides to Karin. "Most of my packmates are for the most part in the city; his pack is the Guardian pack here." Under his breath, Trace continues, "Me cago en todos los santos I need a goddamned motherfucking cigarette…" Followed by rooting around through the pockets of his jeans until he finds just that.
Watches-The-Small has a good several moments of impotent rage before the wolf settles down into a wide stance with ears pinned back. At least she's no longer bearing her teeth as she indeed listens, shoulders with raised heckles still heaving as she has yet to catch her breath. Unfortunately for Karin the wolf snaps her gaze at her accusingly, figuring she must also be in on this 'lesson' just like Six-Shooter. It makes sense, being a fellow Black Fury after all.
The lupine hunts about for a moment to snatch up her undies that were carelessly tossed to the wet forest floor. A rather comfortable lacy affair from Victoria's Secret, that shit is comfy. When it isn't damp. Needing clearer communication than she's capable of as a Wolf, she lopes away then back to the Prius, presumably to change back into homid form and give the others a chance to talk amongst themselves a moment.
And while Monica would love to add to the conversation (as well as have a cigarette of her own, god knows), she is nonetheless tied up in what she'd intended to do this evening. Still, Trace is afforded a smile, and, "I know," as she jogs on after the wolf. "And you were. I was the one being mean by going along with the idea." She raises a hand in a 'one second' gesture soon after, shifting down to wolf form to give chase, presumably looking to get to the car before Reagan does, barking ~Hey!~ after her. ~Not done yet!~
Karin aims a puzzled look at the irate wolf, shaking her head as Reagan departs with a similar sort of tolerance that one might show a strange toddler throwing a temper tantrum. "Ah. If I'd paid more attention to Coyote, and less to Guardian, I'd have realized that you were part of Felix's pack. And yes, I made my claim at the moot the other day, so he's aware, I just haven't met most of the Guardians as yet."
Trace nods, and shrugs, tilting the pack of cigarettes in offer towards Karin after he's lit one for himself. "I'm… not really one for the social functions most of the time, or I'd have been there," he says, on the quiet side.
Karin raises a hand to indicate her refusal. "The social functions are part of what keep us unified," she reminds him. "Although in this case, probably for the best that you didn't. I was more than half expecting it to end in bloodshed."
Trace tucks the pack into his pocket, and chews at his upper lip for a long moment, and then grins, waving the cigarette slightly in the air for a moment. "Definitely better, in that case," he says. Leaning against a tree, with the cigarette, Trace manages to be nearly the picture of calm, but even on this thin of a moon it's a calm that like the still surface of a pond threatens to break with provocation. Calm, for an ahroun at least. "And yeah, I know. There's just… small social, like this, I can handle. Too many people, garou, whatever, in one place, and well. No es bueno." The grin that follows is self-deprecating, but the laughter that accompanies it is honest. "In any case, pleasure to meet you. How long is 'a very long time'?"
Karin says, "As it turns out, nearly fifteen years. I was a cub with Alicia, though she was sent on her Rite of Passage a few months before I went on mine. Needless to say, a few things have changed since then. The caern and bawn are all but unrecognizable, and most of the people I knew are long since gone."
Trace whistles quietly, and spends a good long moment looking at Karin as though to try and see some evidence of fifteen years, and eventually shakes his head, and then a moment later nods. "Things seem to change a lot around here," he says. "I'll spare you the corny platitudes that pop to mind, though. It's… a good place, although I can't say much for the city. I didn't get to spend much time out there before picking up being a Guardian. Hopefully once things settle a bit more…" he shrugs.
Karin says "There are… or were… good points in the city. From what I've seen of it, I fear it may have gotten worse overall in the time I've been away, though I don't claim to be an expert, either. I lived there when I still thought I was just a human, but never spent a great deal of time there after my first change."
Trace nods, and takes a long drag from his cigarette. "I've never been that at home out here in the woods, but there's too few Guardians, and the Bawn is big. Especially with the recent troubles, I felt like this was where I was the most use." He pauses, and shrugs again. "Now, moving forward? We'll see, I guess."
Karin says, "There was a time when I felt the same. Now… now a city the size of St. Claire feels very strange to me. Though I do still love its libraries— if that had changed, I'm not sure what I'd do." She laughs softly. "I'd probably not be me any longer at that point."
The Glass Walker grins. "Libraries are part of a city's soul," Trace says, taking another long puff of his cigarette. "They keep it alive, like the trees do the forest. Keep the people from falling further into darkness and corruption." Then the ahroun goes quiet for a moment, almost bemused by his own words, or more likely, where they came from. "Right then."
Karin smiles gently. "You sound like Hypatia." This is apparently a high compliment, if her tone is any indication, although she offers no further explanation of it. She considers him a moment. "Might I ask if you can already hear the echoes of what came before, when you listen at a spot?"
By some virtue, Trace manages to not say anything, but simply nod and accept the compliment, and then he sighs. "That is one I don't know, although I'd like to learn it, someday. I do know the gift that calls on tool mastery and the spirits of man-made things."
Karin nods. "Then as another who feels the same of libraries, I should like to teach you. It may be of aid to you in your duties as guardian, whether in the woods or in the city."
Trace nods, putting out the butt of his cigarette with his fingers before dropping it into his pocket. "I'd like that," he says. "I was on my patrol, before… all that," he looks towards the direction that Mona and Reagan disappeared off in, and gives a brief slightly-too-feral grin. "But in any case, I'd appreciate that, and I certainly have nowhere else to be… And if there's anything I can do for you, when I'm not on patrols I'm easily enough found by the Sept compound or the Caern."