The past is the past. Focus only on the future.
"Alright kid, listen up," Nathan said, still driving the car. "Like I said, we're Garou, the chosen servants of Mother Nature, the earth. We call her Gaia. Yes, before you ask, the earth is alive and we're her protectors. She gave us these abilities. Super strength, regeneration, the ability to transform, those are all her gifts. The other gifts are from Luna, the moon. Yes, the moon is alive too. Luna gave us our Rage and our allergy to silver. Yes, just like in the movies. You following me so far, kid?"
Mark nodded, then suddenly realized Nathan couldn't see him nod because he was looking at the road. "I'm following you," he said finally.
Mark was a keen reader and loved his video games, but he wasn't someone who went out to movies very often and he didn't watch that much TV. He knew of werewolves, of course, but he wasn't really interested in them. In his mind, they didn't exist and therefore they weren't important. As a result, he didn't really know much about them at all, so much so that he hadn't even realized the dog headed monsters he'd just seen were werewolves.
"Good. Now, Gaia didn't give us these gifts for free, she expects something in return. That's Chiminage, the art of equal exchange, a gift for a service. That's an important word, and you should remember it. Anyway, what Gaia wants is for us to protect her from the Wyrm. What's the Wyrm, you ask? Well, that's a good question. I'm not going to bog you down in details right now. Basically, all you need to know is that the Wyrm is the cause of every bad thing that has ever happened in the past or will happen to you in the future. If it's bad, the Wyrm caused it. If the Wyrm goes away, everything will be peachy."
Mark stared. He could sense that Nathan was being a bit evasive about this 'Wyrm' thing, almost as if he himself didn't understand the concept. Whatever it was, Mark knew that it was highly unlikely that this Wyrm was the sole cause of things going wrong.
The car drive seemed to go on forever, for almost half the night. Somehow, Mark managed to stay awake throughout all of it.
Finally, they had arrived. Although, exactly WHERE they had arrived wasn't clear. They had left the city far behind. Now they had arrived at a rural town, surrounded by farmland and essentially in the middle of nowhere.
"Where are we?" he asked as he got out of the car.
"Logan," Nathan replied. "This is the Caern of the Wolverine, the gathering place of many Garou. You will begin your education here among the elders. Follow me."
Mark followed him into the town – if it could even be called that. It seemed to consist of little more than a post office and a milk bar. For a city boy, the place was most unusual, but somehow he felt almost at home here, away from the hustle and bustle. They walked up to a pub, one of the few buildings on the main street. There was a sign in front of it that revealed its name: "The Thirsty Wolf." Underneath the sign was a warning: "No cats allowed."
I hate this place already, Mark thought to himself.
Nathan knocked on the door and almost instantly someone responded. "Seeker?" said a voice.
"No," Nathan replied. "It's me, Nathan Bites the Wyrm. I've got the cub with me, too."
The door opened, revealing a woman who looked to be in her early fifties, at least as far as Mark could tell. She smiled broadly as she looked down at Mark. "Excellent! Come in! Come in! We've been expecting you!" Her accent was strong, clearly Irish.
They stepped into the pub. The place looked, for all intents and purposes, like a dump. Cobwebs littered the ceiling and the place was pretty much deserted. It was cold and it was damp. Mark frowned.
"Would you like a coffee?" the woman asked, before laughing to herself. "Oh, of course not, you're too young. How about some hot chocolate?"
Mark shook his head. He did actually feel thirsty, but more than anything else he was determined to rebel in this place at every conceivable opportunity. Maybe they would get so tired of him that they would send him back home and be done with him.
The woman sighed. "No, I guess you don't. I'm sure you've had a hard day, just like it was for all of us. Maybe it would be a better idea to simply send you to bed. We'll have a good talk in the morning." She frowned as Mark shook his head again, crossing his arms. "Yes, I'm sure you've got questions. But rest first, it's late. Nathan, could you escort the young man to his lodgings?"
Nathan nodded. "Yes, Elder. Follow me, kid."
"Mark," Mark replied, still a bit angry. "My name is Mark. Not kid."
"Whatever, kid. Just follow me." Nathan led the way across the pub to a side room. Inside, the room was Spartan, consisting of little more than a bed. Mark looked at Nathan with a dark look.
Are you seriously kidding me?
Nathan sighed at the look on Mark's face. "Don't worry, kid, it's not as bad as you think. It just seems bad at first. You'll get used to it. Now, get some sleep. The Elders will want to talk to you in the morning."
Mark dug in his heels and stood firm. Nathan sighed, and then responded by grabbing him by the hair and pushing him into the room, where Mark immediately fell flat on his face. Even as he whirled around, Mark heard a key turn in the lock.
"Good night, kid. See you in the morning." He walked away before he could hear Mark's enraged yelling.
Nathan walked back to the Elder Garou, who was filling in more paperwork. "How is he?" she asked.
Nathan shrugged. "Petulant. Angry. Irritable. Hates the world and everything in it. He's pretty much like all the rest." He pricked his ears. "Kid's being pretty quiet, actually. He must've been more tired than he let on."
The Elder sighed. "I thought as much. I wish it could've been easier, that his relatives could have been the one to fetch him, but he hasn't got anybody. It's hard."
"He'll get over it," Nathan said. "They always do, once they've learned about our world. Then their wolf half and their spirit half kicks in and they agree to join us willingly." He smiled, but then sobered up quickly. "It's not Mark I'm worried about, though."
"Yes," the Elder agreed. "Burke is late, very late. I received a call from him several hours ago, but all he said was that the mission had gone awry and he needed assistance. I haven't heard from him or other members of his pack for a long time. I'm concerned that –"
There came a shout from outside. "ELDER!"
Both Nathan and the Elder immediately forget about what they were talking about as they turned to face the sudden interruption. The door to the pub suddenly broke open, ripped free from its rusted hinges and falling onto the floor. In the opening, two Garou in Crinos form stepped through – the two guards that patrolled the Bawn of the Caern, protecting it and the inhabitants from harm. Between them, supported by their arms, was a third Garou in Crinos form, this one looking very haggard and clearly badly injured.
The Elder shouted in shock and horror. "Burke!" Immediately, Nathan ran towards the stricken Garou, before he could fall face forwards onto the wooden floor. He looked terrible, covered in blood that was partly his own and partly from some unknown assailant. It was not the physical injuries that bothered him, however – Garou, especially in Crinos form, heal really quickly. It was the look on his face that was so worrying to Nathan. Burke looked as though he'd been to Malfeas, the very home of the Wyrm, and stared into its abyss. He had a look on his face of someone who had seen far too much.
Behind him, the Elder was interrogating the two guards. "What happened?!"
"We found him outside, just a few miles from here, " one of the guards replied. He cast a forlorn look at the smashed up door. "Um, sorry about the door..."
"Never mind that!" The Elder yelled. She turned to Burke. "Burke, what happened? Where are your pack mates?"
Burke didn't respond. It was like he hadn't even heard. Since they'd carried him in, he had kept staring at the floor, unable to make eye contact with anyone, whimpering softly to himself. Now they could see that he was twitching randomly, little tics that started from the right side and spread through to the left. The Elder touched him under the chin. "Burke. Speak to me. Tell me what happened. Where are the others?"
Finally there was a reaction. Burke twitched, then began to speak in the Garou tongue, the same words, over and over. "The others..." He began to sway, in time to his words. "The others. The others. The others. The others. The others. The –"
The Elder grabbed Burke by the shoulders and gave him a shake, shouting at him for good measure. "BURKE!"
That shocked him out of it. He blinked twice and looked around wildly, speaking in English this time. "Wha - Where – how –" he tried to speak more, but the Crinos form wouldn't let him. His body began to shift and change, trying to shift to a more humanlike form so he could speak clearer.
"No," Nathan told him. "Don't change, you're too injured. You can tell us later."
"No!" Burke shouted the word in English, following it up with a mournful whine. "Must... Speak...Now!" He finished his shift, transforming into the Homid, or human form. "I have to . . . tell... everyone..."
"Tell us what?" The Elder asked. "What happened, Burke?"
"They're..." Tears began to fall down his face and he deteriorated into a sobbing wreck. "They're gone! They're all gone!" He burst into tears and began to scratch at himself with nonexistent claws. "They're gone and it's my entire fault!"
Nathan looked at the Elder, aghast. The Elder had a horrified look on her face as she absorbed Burke's message. Three Silver Fangs were dead.
"... Gaia, help us all."
Mark awoke to the sound of howling. They were sombre, low pitched, drawn out howls.
At first he didn't remember where he was. The ceiling and the walls were completely unfamiliar to him and for a moment he thought he was still in his room at home. Then he began to wonder where he was cat was and why it wasn't coiled up asleep on him and then he remembered.
That's right. I'm a werewolf. I shape shifted into a werewolf last night and killed a whole bunch of people and then lots of weird things and now I've been kidnapped by an evil werewolf cult.
He got out of bed and headed for the door, remembering that Nathan had locked him in last night. Mark couldn't tell what time it was as the room was completely featureless, similar more to a jail cell than a bedroom, with no windows. For all Mark knew, it was equally possible to be 2 in the morning or midday. That didn't matter. He was awake now and he wanted some explanation.
The door was still locked, just as he had half expected. Mark sat on the edge of the bed and considered his options.
When he'd first changed into a werewolf he had felt unstoppable. He'd had the strength to pick up a reasonable sized thug and toss him halfway down an alley street. This door was fairly solid, too strong for Mark to force it down in his current form. But if he could just transform back into the Werewolf, like he had last night...
It didn't take long for Mark to remember that his transformation had been caused by emotions, specifically anger. This was an emotion that he wasn't used to. Very little made Mark Allen angry. Actually, before yesterday and the craziness of the previous few weeks, Mark hadn't really felt much of anything at all. He could watch a horror movie or a romantic comedy and react with the same indifference as watching a blank screen.
Certainly after his transformation he felt different. He would describe it almost as an echo in his own mind, echoing his thoughts with a different interpretation. Mark, for instance, would think: I'm locked in this room. His Echo would think: Somebody has locked me in this room and I should defend myself before he gets back.
But his emotions were still blunted. He could feel anger and frustration now, but he denied it, refused it, and suppressed it. In this time of stress, he fell back on techniques that had worked well for him in the past: cold detachment, logical thinking and intellect.
No good. No matter how hard he tried, nothing happened. No matter how much he tried, he was unable to tap into the primal force that had overcome him so completely last night as to change his physical form.
Another possibility arose, that of the second world. He could sense this second world - It seemed so obvious now to him that he almost wondered why he'd never seen it before. Last night, the three dog-men – werewolves, he now realized – had managed to lead the way into this second world and somehow, almost instinctively, Mark knew that he had the ability to enter this world as well. The question was how. He thought about it for a while, but again realized this option was not available to him. He simply didn't have the knowledge.
That left only one alternative. Mark got off the bed, braced himself, and then charged at the door. He hit the door shoulder first. The door swayed and groaned, but held fast, forcing Mark to bounce off it and fall to the ground. For a moment, all was pain. The pain in his shoulder combined with the pain in his hands which he still had from the –
Wait a minute. Mark looked at his hands. They were completely healed. Where yesterday they'd been red marks crisscrossed with angry welts from the strap, today they were completely unmarked.
He shrugged. A werewolf did it. That was a good enough explanation for him for the moment. Meanwhile, he still had to get this door open.
He eventually relied on the tried and true method, banging on the door with his fists and shouting. "I'm awake! Open the door! Hey!"
He had to bang on the door for several minutes before someone finally answered him. "Al right, alright, I'm coming! Man! You'd think you were buried alive from the way you're carrying on!
Finally, the door was unlocked and opened, revealing Nathan standing in the doorway. Mark noticed that he looked quite tired. There were bags under his eyes and he didn't seem to be as attentive as a normal person. As if to prove him right, Nathan yawned, putting his hand across his mouth. Then he grinned. "Morning, kid. Feeling hungry? Want some breakfast?"
Mark shook his head. "I want to see that woman from yesterday. She promised me some answers."
Nathan sighed. "First of all, she is not 'that woman', she is the Cairn Elder and a high ranked Fianna, and thus doesn't have to deal with cubs like you. Secondly, she's busy. Something came up last night that she has to attend to. So you're just going to have to deal with it."
Mark frowned. "I will see her NOW." He gave the older Garou his best and most intimidating glare.
"No you won't," Nathan replied, completely unbothered by Mark's defiance as he grabbed him by the back of the shirt. "First, we're going to eat because it's nearly noon and we don't want you to drop dead from hunger. Then we're going to take you to see the Den Mother. She's the one who looks after cubs around here. You can interrogate her if you must interrogate somebody. Now come on." He began to push Mark in the direction of the main room of the pub. Mark crossed his arms over his chest in the typical look of a disgruntled teenager, but allowed himself to be 'escorted' out.
In the daytime, the pub was much more lively, though still a dump. It was fully staffed and filled with people... if you could call them people. Most of them seemed to be ordinary humans, but there were also werewolves walking around, as well as a couple of ordinary wolves. Some of them were drinking alcohol in mugs, whilst others were eating what looked to be lunch. Mark stared at the busy area and felt distinctly uncomfortable. He was not a people person and preferred to be on his own wherever possible.
Nathan, however, was completely unperturbed. He strode right up to the bartender and banged on the counter. "Barkeep! Some breakfast for the new cub here." The barkeep nodded and brought out a plate of food and a cup. It was only when Mark saw it close up that he realized it was a plate of chicken and a cup of water. The chicken was cooked rare. Really rare. It was still pink on the outside.
Chicken for breakfast?
Nathan helped Mark to his chair by forcing him to sit down on it. "Eat," he ordered.
Mark sighed and tried to obey. He had actually been pretty hungry, having missed dinner last night and not eaten anything since lunch time at school yesterday, but now that he was in this crowded room his appetite had deserted him. He also didn't like to be the centre of attention, but from the sounds of the conversation around him, it appeared that he was.
"Look... that's the lost cub the Elder talked about yesterday."
"Did you hear? The Ragabash messed up the mission and got three Silver Fangs killed!"
"I heard Burke abandoned his pack! I knew those Bone Gnawers couldn't be relied on!"
"Three Silver Fangs died for him?! He'd better be a pretty amazing Garou or they'll be trouble."
"Kid," Nathan said from across the table. "You're not eating."
Mark glanced down at his food, mostly untouched. He pushed it away from him with a look of resignation. "I'm not hungry." He got up from the chair, anxious to leave this place of strangers.
Nathan shrugged. "Suit yourself. Go ahead and explore the place, look around, meet some people. If you need more, I'll be here."
That was all Mark needed. He left the pub, hoping to find a way out of this miserable place. Behind him, Nathan reached for the discarded plate of chicken and began to eat from it.
"Waste not, want not..."
"Concentrate," the Garou ordered him. "You need to give in to your Rage, but not completely. Harness it and use it as a weapon to change your form."
Mark shrugged and tried to obey, even though he sensed the elder Garou didn't understand him at all. Nothing happened. This isn't working, he thought to himself. He sighed. "What am I doing wrong?" he asked, more to himself than to the other Garou.
"You're still thinking like a human. You need to think like a wolf, like an animal. Don't deny your anger, use it."
Mum blinked. "I'm not angry."
The elder smiled. "Yes you are – we all are. You just aren't in tune with it yet. Practice harder."
Get angry - but not too angry. He concentrated again on things he didn't like. Babies. Girls shrieking like baby eagles. Loud noises. People in authority who used their authority like idiots. Corrupt people. Crowds. Crowds of screaming bawling people. Riots.
"Remember the night you first changed. The change is caused by Rage, so you obviously have some in you somewhere. How did you feel that night? What triggered your Rage?"
He remembered the night he first changed – how he'd felt when they were kicking and stabbing and hitting him.
"How did it make you feel?"
"Sore." Mark had felt very sore. Being hurt wasn't very fun.
It doesn't matter what you think. Nothing you think or do will change things in any way.
"You probably wanted them to do something else, didn't you? But you were powerless to stop them, right?"
Well, of course he was powerless to stop them. Superior numbers and weapons, of course. There's no point in being angry about it.
"Being angry won't change anything," he whispered. He knew the mantra by heart, had heard it repeated enough.
The elder Garou laughed. "Maybe it didn't in your old life – but this is a new one. Now being angry changes everything. It changes your form, your surroundings – everything!"
Mark understood now. He needed to think differently. But still, it was difficult. What was he angry about? The answer was: not a lot. About the only thing Mark had really been angry about was Nathan abducting him and admitting him into this cult of werewolves. That had made Mark really angry, but he hadn't been angry for long.
On that first day at Logan, Mark had spent the first opportunity he had trying to escape. It had quickly proven futile. Logan was quite literally at the edge of absolute nowhere, a desolate land with nothing really in any direction for hundreds of kilometres. It really was the perfect place for somebody to completely disappear and never be seen again.
"I guess I can't do it," he said finally.
The elder Garou smiled. "Yes, you can. You've done it before. Keep trying, and you'll be able to."
Nathan poked his head in the door to the room where Mark was being educated. "How's our little lost cub doing?"
The elder Garou sighed. "Not very well, at the moment. Hmm... perhaps you can be of assistance, Nathan. He needs some... motivation."
Nathan grinned. "Awesome." He strode into the room and began poking Mark in the tummy. "Hey, CUB! You think you're so cool, calm and collected? You think you're a special little snowflake? Well, you're not! You're a loser! A lousy, stinking, good for nothing loser!"
Mark nodded to himself. That's what they all say.
Nathan was still going. "What's the matter? Why can't you change form? Don't you know how simple that is for us Garou to do? Watch me..."
As Mark watched, Nathan shifted. His feet changed into paws, a tail grew out from behind him and he fell down to all fours. Where before there was a sandy haired youth growling at him, now there was a sandy haired wolf. The wolf circled Mark a few times, its tail tall, as occasionally it charged in and snapped at him, teasing him. Mark watched the wolf silently, completely expressionless. After a few seconds, the wolf shifted back into Nathan's normal human form.
Complete with clothes. Mark was impressed. I wonder how he did that.
"Come on! Only losers and idiots have trouble shifting!" Nathan sneered. "Or maybe you're not a real Garou. Maybe you're not a werewolf, but a were-mutt. A were-mongrel. That's all you are. Just a freak!"
Mark nodded to himself. I've heard that before, too. Well, not the were-mutt part, but certainly I've been called a freak. He could hear the children at his primary school chanting the word. Freak! Freak! Freak!
Nathan kept going, but nothing really bothered Mark. That was, however, until Nathan mentioned Mark's CAT. Specifically, said pet doing something abnormal with Mark's mother. That got Mark irritated. He glared at Nathan and stood up to yell and at that moment he shifted. Only this time, he was both aware of it occurring and could feel it occurring.
AND IT HURT.
"A... Aaaaahh!"
He couldn't help it – he cried out in pain. He could FEEL his bones breaking and his skin tearing and his organs reshaping themselves as his body changed shape both outwardly and within. He coiled up into a ball, lying on his side and flailing. Distantly, he could hear shouts of encouragement but the words were covered by a whooshing hiss in his ears.
Then suddenly the pain eased and was gone, though the memory still lingered. Mark tried to hold his head but found his arms wouldn't bend in the correct direction.
"Wake up, kid. You did it."
The noise was blaringly loud, sounding like a whisper but at the volume of a high pitched scream. Mark moaned. Never again. I'm never doing this ever again. As soon as I can, I'm getting out of this place and going home and I'm going to massacre any Werewolf or Garou or whatever that comes near me. Never again.
"What do you think?" asked another voice, one Mark dimly identified as the Garou elder.
"Hmm. Well, let's put it this way: a Silver Fang he most assuredly isn't." There was a chuckle that pounded inside Mark's skull. "I only said he was a were-mutt to get him angry, but... well... just look at him!"
Mark whimpered. Slowly, the feeling in his limbs began to return and he realized that he was no longer in his own body, but that of a dog. No, a wolf. It was a terrible feeling and he felt absolutely horrible.
Never again.
One older Garou of the Sept spoke to another. "What do you think of the cubs this year?"
The other elder sighed. "There are so few these days that I fear the End Times are truly upon us. If they are the future, then I fear for us all."
The first shook his head. "No, don't be like that. Look on the positives. Some of the cubs are very promising and have the potential to be excellent Garou."
The second scoffed. "Do they? I only see Metis freaks and arrogant cubs. So many Metis!"
"And what of Mark?"
There was a long pause. "Oh... the lost cub. What's the situation on him? Last I heard they were still squabbling over his tribe."
"They're squabbling over everything – even his auspice. They can't figure out whether he is a Philodox or a Theurge or even a Ragabash."
"And what of his tribe? Has anybody made any claims?"
"I'd say that's mostly been sorted out by now. The only tribe that made a claim on him is the Bone Gnawers, and that's only because it was a Bone Gnawer who found him. Let's face it, they'll take anybody. Even the weirdos."
"Are you insinuating that Mark is a weirdo?"
"'I'm just saying. There's something strange about him... something unnatural. And when I say that when I'm personally capable of turning into a nine foot walking death beast, I mean that there's something UNNATURAL about him. I don't know what it is, but we should probably keep an eye on him."