Log edited with Logedit 2.6.6pl on Mon Oct 20 19:15:19 EDT 1997

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The Garou pack discusses their opitions, while another true-wolf shiveringly joins the other two. This one, a young male, limps to the front of the cage and sniffs. He shrinks back again from Defends-Wolves, slinking to the back of his alpha.

Whitewings chuffs first to her alpha, then to the truewolves. Her feet carry her to the treeline, where she skirts the clearing back towards the front of the cabin. Once there, and out of sight of the pen, she shifts into homid form.

Stormcloud looks over into the cage from wher he sits by the rear door, judging the wolves and their ability to run.

The cabin is still quiet, smoke drifting from the chimney.

Stormcloud grunts softly to himself, a bit upset and quite angry, and he turns his attentions back to the rear door. He may as well enjoy this.

Defends-Wolves pads closer to the fence, watching the Wendigo head for the woods. He looks toward the alpha of the truewolves. Ask the others to face away from me until a signal is given. Whitewings, before she steps into the clearing, musses herself up a bit, a blow to her cheek leaving it showing a new bruise and giving her the appearance of befuddlement. She approaches the cabin, rubbing her arms and stumbling.

The cabin remains silent. Dawn is close in the short Artic night.

Stormcloud simply sits. Waiting for something to happen.

Whitewings continues to approach the cabin, letting the wind blow a fringe of hair across her face as she turns her senses to trying to determine if there's movement inside the cabin. Stumbling steps still mark her walk and the blue her lips begin to show is convincing of time spent struggling through the snow.

Defends-Wolves sits by the fence, waiting to see if the wolves actually listen to him before shifting to Hipso and attempting to snap the barbed wire with his jaws.

The alpha starts, apparently having fallen into a half-doze--definitely an unhealthy sign in the presence of dominant stranger-wolves and the nearby humans. He looks confused. Why do we need to look into the wind?

Defends-Wolves looks back toward the cabin, then back at the wolf. There is no time to explain. The sooner you do it, the sooner you and the others will be out of that cage.

Whitewings's steps slow down as she gets closer, gaze fixed in an unbelieving expression as her feet take her within reach of the door.

Even with the Wendigo on the very porch, there's still no activity.

Stormcloud stands up, limping toward the rear door, sniffing along its base.

The alpha flattens his ears, but accomodates the odd, homid-ish request. He gathers his pack to face upwind, including the last wolf: a larger female that had been dozing in the snow.

As soon as he is out of sight of the wolves, Defends-Wolves shift to Hispo, snapping at the wire fence with his jaws to leave a hole large enough for the wolves to run through, assuming they're strong enough to do so.

Stormcloud's lips curl at a strange smell from inside. He looks briefly over to John to see how he progresses.

The metal, already strained by the cold, snaps under the thick jaws of the dire wolf with fair ease. The sound seems loud to the Garou, especially the one crouched on the porch, but the cabin still does not stir. The wolves, however, turn at this new stimuli. As one, they shrink away fearfully. The alpha pisses on the snow like a cub.

Stormcloud grumbles once more, returning his attention again to the door.

Defends-Wolves shifts back to lupus as soon as the wire snaps, grumbling softly to himself at the pain in his jaws. He looks into the pen. Those of you who can, run for the woods.

The alpha, flattened down submissively, takes a step forward. He stops, apparently reluctant to pass that close to the shape-changing wolf. The others don't even move until the Gaian moves.

Defends-Wolves notes the alpha's reluctance and heads for the woods himself. He stays well ahead of them, not really wanting to unnerve them any further.

As soon as the theurge moves, the wolves go to the hole. They spend a short time sniffing at it, showing the strange reluctance that wild things caged too long can display, as if they don't believe the hole is there. After the alpha takes the fateful step through, though, the others follow. The limping wolves trail behind. The two larger, and apparently healthier, wolves track ahead. They do not follow Defends-Wolves, but they do work for the treeline. Whitewings slinks away from the cabin's door, slipping down into lupus as she goes, keen senses fixed on the sounds from the cabin, ready to act if there is movement.

Stormcloud takes a step back, waiting for the wolves to reach the tree's safety before following them as rear-guard.

Defends-Wolves pauses just inside the treeline, watching the wolves leave the pen, and watching the cabin for any signs of activity. The cabin is still silent, smoke drifting lazily into the lightening air. The first touches of dawn light up the many pawprints in the snow.

The wolves plod doggedly away, the promise of freedom causing them to push themselves. The alpha pair makes it to the treeline first and speeds up a little, managing a shambling lope. The other two follow gamely. Stormcloud follows as best he can, determined to stay with the wolves.

Defends-Wolves waits for the last of the wolves to leave, then follows, staying on the flank of the pack, and starting to sniff the air for something that might resemble good hunting grounds or a source of drinkable water.

The Garou have no trouble keeping up with the wolves, though they seem shy around the strangers. Defends-Wolves especially causes a skittish change of path when he gets too close.

Whitewings runs about the cabin, leaving pawprints everywhere. Even going so far as to jog into the woods. She goes backwards awkwardly to return to the cabin, using an uncanny ability to blend into her surroundings to continue the confusion.

The land, locked into the unseasonable snow, seems fairly desolate. What little sign of the larger game animals have been apparently going southward, out of the center of the snowstorm. Smaller game, like mice, have mostly gone to ground. Free-running water is likewise scarce, but the wolves don't appear to be suffering from dehydration as much as hunger and the subsequent exposure of their weakened bodies in the unprotected cage.

Once the ground around the cabin is covered with confusing paw prints, Whitewings pads after the others, knocking snow off tree branches to cover as much of the paw prints of the others as possible.

Stormcloud has a brainstorm of sorts. Chuffing to the pack, especially the alpha, he asks that they stop.

Defends-Wolves pauses, eyeing the Talon curiously.

The front pair slow, regarding the huge Talon with half-wary curious eyes. The back pair limp to catch up, making a loose group. The alpha asks what the big wolf wants?

Whitewings pads up to the others finally, still shaking snow loose from trees.

Stormcloud steps right up to the alpha, no sign of submission in his posture.

There is a way. This one can provide, if you will wait in this place so this one can return, knowing you are here and safe.

The alpha lowers his eyes. You wish to take his pack?

Stormcloud flicks an ear, indicating a negative. You lead. Yet this one has ways you do not. This one asks that you heed him for now until you are safe.

Whitewings pads up to the stranger wolves, giving them a chance to take in her scent and become more comfortable with her.

The wolves seem most comfortable with Whitewings, of the pack. The alpha whines that he will do so, then asks if we are far enough from the humans to be safe? He adds, I don't like resting so close to them.

Defends-Wolves heads over to his two packmates, but stays behind them, letting the two lupus handle the conversation with the alpha.

Whitewings chuffs softly to the alpha, just a hint of submission in her stance. This one thinks we will be okay for now. This one will tell if she hears the wyrmbringers coming. She nudges a bit of snow, chewing it, perhaps a hint that the others should do so as well.

Stormcloud chuffs reassuringly, nudging the alpha. You are not far enough. But if you stay with those who came with this one, you will be safe. He turns, heading back the way they came. This one will provide.

The alpha whines again. The small female doesn't need encouraging, flopping to the snow in the hollow next to a tree. The smaller male curls next to her, panting. The alpha pair stays on their feet, nervously, but does not leave.

Whitewings chuffs softly and pads over to the non-alpha wolves, plunking down in the snow near them to add her body heat to theirs. This one thinks we should stay close until Stormcloud comes back.

Defends-Wolves flicks an ear in acknowledgement at Stormcloud, though he looks at him curiously before padding over to the rest of the wolves, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible.

The alpha female fixes the Gaian with a gaze that rapidly shears away. You were big, and now you are not again. Whitewings chuffs at Defends-Wolves. Patrol about, see if you see any small game. Rabbits, foxes.

Defends-Wolves flicks an ear at the alpha female, seemingly amused. This one has always been this size. How could he change it? He pads off to the woods to do as Whitewings asks before any more questions could be asked.

There's a splintering, tearing noise that startles the true-wolves. Human screams and yells cross the treeline, further inciting their nervousness, but no gunfire. The noise is over as suddenly as it started.

Defends-Wolves lifts his muzzle, sighing in the general direction of the treeline.

The alpha male turns to Whitewings. Should we go? The men may have taken your alpha.

Stormcloud returns after a short while, dragging one of the humans, declothed and messily slain, back towards the wolves. Food.

Whitewings eyes Stormcloud as he returns, but says nothing. She chuffs to the wolf alpha. You'd be amazed at what has tried, and failed, to kill my alpha.

Defends-Wolves grumbles softly as he spots the Talon and his bloody cargo, but makes no other comment.

The true-wolves mill nervously, now treating Stormcloud with near the fearful submission they accord Defends-Wolves. The alpha approaches the smell of blood after a few minutes, his head down and his lips curled back. He licks the bloodied arm of the dead man. Snorting in distaste, hunger finally drives him to take a firm bite. The wolves fall on the prey with skittish starvation, acting like children eating their least favorite vegatable after a week without food. Defends-Wolves glances at the Stormcloud. How many were there?

Stormcloud backs away to let the wolves eat, looking over to the Gaian. Three including this one. They will not bother these wolves again. He pauses for a short moment. Will you search their den. Find why they were doing what they were?

Defends-Wolves chuffs softly, indicating an affirmative. He pads back through the trees, toward the cabin, looking over the area for others the Talon might have missed before shifting up to homid and entering the cabin.

Stormcloud settles back down upon his haunches, contenting himself to wait for the wolves to finish.

At last, even the omega is stuffed with as much meat as it can stomach. All four go to the sheltered place the limping wolves found earlier, next to the tree, and curl up to digest.

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