Today, a boy becomes a man.
The Cairn of the Wolverine looked a lot different in the Umbra, Mark had to admit. Whereas the physical Logan was a tiny town in the middle of a wasteland, the Umbra version was wild and intense, a land of sweeping plains. It was always night time in the Umbra, but the sky was lit by a blazing red sun – Anthelios, the elder Garou called it. They called it the Eye of the Wyrm, but they wouldn't say why it was there or what it meant. Such questions resulted in them awkwardly changing the subject.
In the Umbra, the Cairn of the Wolverine resembled a great, grassy plain straight out of the prehistoric, complete with the animals to match. Massive Diprotodons and Giant Short Faced Kangaroos cropped at the grass, while Marsupial Lions stalked them. For the most part, the animals ignored the two Garou as they made their way through the Umbra, towards the Cairn's personal Moon Bridge. Using this Bridge, they could travel to another Cairn, anywhere in the world.
"You've made a good choice, a brave choice, my boy," Burke was saying. "Don't listen to the other tribes; they're too up of themselves. It's like they're the officers and nobility of the war, whilst we Bone Gnawers are the actual front line fighters. We're the ones who do all the hard yards.
"You've probably heard all the things they call us – believe me, I lived with three Silver Fangs for years, I've probably heard it all. Just remember one thing: In our tribe, it's not where you've come from, where you've been or what you've done in the past – it's what you do now. And that is something the other tribes, especially the Silver Fangs, will NEVER understand.
"By becoming a Bone Gnawer, you will doom yourself to being looked down upon and hated solely for the way you look and act. Nobody will ever appreciate you; you'll need to work three times harder for half the respect."
In other words, Mark thought to himself, not really much different from how it is now.
"By becoming a Bone Gnawer, you will also become part of the most successful, toughest, strongest and deadliest sons of wolves to have ever existed. Your duties are not to the wealthy and privileged, but to the downtrodden guys who are just as good as the wealthy and privileged but just need a bit of a hand. "
Yes, yes, that's all very well, Mark thought. Instead, he asked the question that had been bothering him ever since Burke first asked him to follow him. "Where are we going?"
Burke smiled. "You're going to undertake the Bone Gnawer Rite of Passage, the Trial of the Rat. There's only one place good enough to take such a trial and that place is where we're going."
They walked through the moon bridge and emerged out the other end. They were now in a large city, surrounded by Pattern Spiders and webs – marks of humanity, Mark had learnt. Following Burke's lead, Mark stepped sideways out of the Umbra.
He found himself in the middle of a city like none he'd ever seen before. Surrounding him on all sides were skyscrapers so tall they blotted out the sun, draping everything in a dreary darkness. And the smog! It was so thick here that it choked the air. It was dark and it was dreary.
Mark looked about himself. "Where are we?"
"Oh, we're in New York city," Burke replied nonchalantly.
"New ..." Mark was stunned. He glanced behind him as if he still expected to see the Cairn of the Wolverine behind him, but saw only a building. "But we were just – how did we –". In the space of a few seconds they had travelled thousands of miles, halfway across the world.
"Power of moon bridges, little cub," Burke said with a smile. "Alright then, come here."
As Mark watched, the elder Garou focused on his right hand until it began to glow. Then he pointed at Mark's forehead and began to draw something.
Mark blinked. "What are you doing?"
"I'm drawing a glyph on your head. This is part of the Trial of the Rat. Now, listen up. To join the Bone Gnawers requires two things, an oath and a trial. We Bone Gnawers aren't too picky on who joins us, but they have to prove two things. First they have to prove themselves in front of the Rat Totem, the Guardian of the Bone Gnawer Tribe. They're mostly cool dudes, but they do have a stipulation: you can never harm rats or mice. You can't glue trap them, you can't mouse trap them, you can't sic cats on them, you can't tie penny bungers onto their tails and blow them up. Understand? Do you promise to never harm a rat, as long as you live?"
Mark shrugged. "Yeah, sure."
"Good enough. Second thing you have to prove is to us Bone Gnawer Garou that you've got the right stuff. This is where the Trial of the Rat comes in. You see this nice ugly city? I'm going to leave you here."
Mark blinked. You're WHAT?
"Yep. In a few minutes, I'll be gone and you're going to have to survive here for about a week. Don't worry too much, Rat will provide for you if you truly believe in the Totem."
Clap your hands if you believe!
"But you can't rely on anybody else. That glyph I put on will make humans hate you – as in, more than usual – and it will also show other Garou that you're working on your Rite of Passage, so they'll know not to help you. You're going to be here, on your own – food, water, sleep, you'll have to take care of all of it. Oh yeah, and that glyph is also going to make sure you stay Homid. We don't need any rending of the Veil whilst you're on your Rite."
Mark glared at him.
"Aww, don't look at me like that. It's not that bad. You'd be surprised how much the human body can survive. Believe it or not, you will not drop dead in one week just from a lack of video games. Oh, and remember: the spirits are watching. If you cheat, they'll let me know. Okay, seeya."
"WAIT!" Mark yelled. "You can't just leave me –"
"Yeah, I can, just watch me. Bye now!" Before Mark could do or say anything, Burke was gone. Mark stared at the spot where he'd just been standing in stunned shock.
Son of a...
At first, Mark's mind simply refused to believe what had just happened. He simply stood there, staring at where Burke had been, as though he half expected Burke to reappear out of thin air. Perhaps with a smile.
"Gotcha, kid!" he would say. "The look on your face! Priceless!"
But even as he thought this, he knew that it was not going to happen. Burke had made good on his word – he really had left Mark here in the middle of nowhere, without any resources or connections. A warm place to sleep, food to eat, a place to live – all of it was gone. The resulting feeling was akin to nausea. Mark felt sick to his stomach and was forced to sit down on the ground.
He analyzed he thoughts. Right now he was predicting catastrophe and freaking out, thinking that death was imminent. Such thoughts were of no use and he had to push them aside. He had to focus and prioritize.
Right now, I have nothing, no food, water or shelter. Somehow, I need to acquire these things.
I need to explore.
He stood up and began to explore the city.
It proved to be hard going – Mark's home town of Frankston had been a busy place, but it was nothing like this. It had been dark and dreary, sure, but there had still been the occasional splash of color from trees. Here there was nothing, just a uniform grey. Perhaps it was simply that Mark had been holed up in Logan for the past 5 years. Perhaps it was Mark's half wolf self. Whatever it was, Mark felt distinctly uncomfortable here, as though he didn't belong – no, more specifically, as though the City itself didn't belong here at all.
But it does and there's nothing to be done about it.
The more he kept going, the darker and more dismal the place seemed. As he walked, he would notice the incoming person would move out of his way, sometimes even crossing to the other side of the street, trying to avoid him. As he walked towards a road crossing, where a whole bunch of people were waiting, he noticed how they kept glancing his way. When he arrived at the crossing, everybody took a step or two away from him. He was in a crowd of people, but he still felt alone.
Normally, he would have loved such a reaction. Not right now. He was alone and he was ... scared. Yes. He was frightened, occasionally on the verge of panic. All of the things he had relied on in the past were ripped away.
Burke had said the Rat would provide for Mark if he believed. But he didn't believe.
Maybe I can break into a house and use it for myself? Mark wasn't really someone for breaking the law. Aside from the occasional crime of getting into fights with other kids, he was generally a law abiding sort. Circumstances change, however.
It was a plan, but it quickly proved fruitless. There were security cameras everywhere, on every corner, plus a multitude of policemen. These policemen were armed with guns, unlike the ones back home, and they actually looked fairly intimidating. Back home, the policemen were notoriously useless - the worst they could do to you (unless you were black) was slap you with the equivalent of a wet noodle. Even then, you could probably sue them for assault and win. But here, the policemen were armed with guns and it looked like they knew perfectly well how to use them. Mark felt like he could be shot for simply looking at a policeman the wrong way. The feeling seemed to be unanimous among all the people – everybody here feared the police.
So, maybe I can't break into a house. I can't go to a homeless shelter, as that would involve other people. I guess this means I'll be sleeping rough. Oh well. At least it's summer, I should be -
A sudden realization stopped him cold – almost literally. He suddenly remembered that Burke had told him he was now in New York – presumably, that meant New York City, New York, United States of America - ergo, on the other side of the world. That meant that the seasons would be reversed. Summer back home would mean it would be winter here.
He bared his teeth at nothing in particular, seething inwardly. Is this all part of the Trial, you jerk?
He couldn't sleep out in the middle of winter in America and expect to enjoy himself. At the very least, he needed some sort of shelter to keep the rain and the snow off. Preferably, he would need a blanket or a mattress of some sort, to keep him off the cold ground. More scouting would be required.
He searched the city for about an hour, although he had no idea how long it was. He owned a watch, a highly expensive silver plated one he'd won in a competition, but the Elder Garou had confiscated it and handled it as though it were radioactive. Silver and werewolves, apparently, didn't like each other. Something to do with Luna's blessing or some similar mumbo jumbo. Anyway, that meant he didn't have any way of keeping time. Presumably there were clocks in the more densely populated areas of the City, but Mark was trying to avoid those areas. He didn't like crowds.
There had been profit in his searching, however. He found a small park in the middle of a residential area, complete with a playground set of swings and a slide. More importantly, it also had a drinking fountain and public toilets. This gave Mark both a source of drinking water and shelter against the weather. The public toilets were probably locked at night, which posed a problem. Mark didn't have any experience in picking locks and he wasn't allowed to shape shift. Burke, however, didn't say anything about traveling in the Umbra. Mark could simply step sideways into the Umbra, go where the toilets were, and step back.
So, that was two things sorted. But what about a mattress or food? Where could you get food without money and without help from other people?
I need to find a place to get food. Then I can rob it.
He continued searching, until it finally occurred to him that he was walking straight past sources of food. The only problem was that the food was in the multiple rubbish bins that dotted the place. Mark stared at the bin. He examined himself. No, at the moment he wasn't hungry. At least, not hungry enough to resort to eating garbage. There was just something... undignified about it. All the cockroaches, and the rats and the mice and the possibility of food poisoning or rabies or the black death... Awful. He decided to look for another place to eat.
He found another place in the form of O'Tolley's, the fast food joint chain that was famous all over the world. Mark had eaten at the place in the past, but there was always something about their food that jarred at him. Was it the overwhelming quantity of fats and oils? Was it the non-biodegradable Styrofoam containers that everything was wrapped in? He couldn't be sure. There was just something about the place he didn't like.
But that was then and this was now. Maybe the food tasted better in a dumpster, or something. Mark opened up the dumpster... and was immediately assaulted with a smell that could not possibly exist except in the netherworld. He no longer felt hungry.
Mark continued to explore. He needed to find a mattress.
Alright, Great Totem Rat. Provide for me and maybe I'll start believing in you.
Mark turned a corner... and there was a mattress, lying on the side of the road. It was old and disused but looked perfectly functional. Mark stared at it.
Okay, thanks. I still don't believe in you, though.
He continued exploring for the rest of the day, which seemed to go on absolutely forever, before giving up on the day and heading back to the toilets. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't locked during the night at all. Feeling smart about his choice of lodgings for the night, Mark tried to go to sleep. It took him a while, but he eventually made it.
"Hey. Hey you. HEY!"
Mark Allen awoke to the feeling of someone poking him in the side with a foot. He tried to ignore it.
"HEY! WAKE UP, YOU PIECE!"
Now there was the feeling of someone grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him around. Reluctantly, Mark opened his eyes.
He found himself staring at a large crowd of unwashed men wearing tatty rags of clothing and holding weapons of all shapes and sizes. He looked up at them wearily. "What's the problem?" he asked, still half asleep.
"You think you can just walk here, into the territory of Crew-Crew?! Well, do you?"
"Yes," Mark replied, before rolling over and trying to go back to sleep.
"WELL YOU CAN'T!" The leader of the men grabbed Mark by the throat and lifted him clean into the air. "You've disrespected us!"
In between bouts of choking and suffocating, Mark looked down at the rude people who had awakened him with a disdainful eye. They must have been the local homeless bums. Then he saw that some of them were armed with guns and he sprang to full alertness.
Damn idiots. I just wanted to sleep here, but now you morons have awakened me. I'll just have to go Crinos and kill you all.
Mark concentrated on shifting – but nothing happened. Wait – the Glyph!
The leader of the men dropped Mark and he fell to the ground, coughing. Before he could even react they were on him, punching and kicking and hitting him with bats and clubs and whatever other weapons they could find. In his normal human form, Mark had no magical regenerative qualities, no enhanced strength, and no special abilities of any kind. All he could do was wait it out until the idiots got tired of hitting him.
It took the better part of an hour. There were at least twenty members of the unwashed gang of idiots and when the first ten got tired of beating him up, they'd take turns and have a rest while the others beat him up. They seemed quite determined to kill him. Finally, they got tired of the beating and carried him out of the toilets. Then they carried him for a while, before dumping him in the street – presumably to die.
Mark found himself lying in the street, snarling to himself. You could have at least let me keep my mattress, you idiots!
Something flew through the air and hit him on the head – the mattress.
Mark sighed. Thank you. He waited until he was certain they had all gone before finally trying to move.
Everything hurt and nothing wanted to move really. He moved his head to examine his arms and found the bone poking through the skin of his right arm.
An open fracture. Awesome.
The rest of the injuries seemed to be merely bruising, something he could normally heal in a few seconds if he wasn't in his human form. His head was pounding, because he'd been punched and kicked there half a dozen times. He contemplated raising his head and struggling to his feet, but decided he was too badly injured. It would be better to just lie here.
At least it isn't raining.
At that exact moment it began to rain. Mark sighed and tried to go back to sleep
Somehow, Mark managed to survive the night, despite it becoming seriously cold, despite being seriously wet, despite being seriously injured, and possibly due to being seriously ticked off about it all.
When he awoke, he found himself on a busy sidewalk, surrounded by people. Nobody gave the badly injured youth a second glance, but that was fairly typical of places the world over.
He didn't know it was possible, but somehow he seemed to be in even more pain than the night before. He was stiff and he was sore, but most of all he was hungry, so he forced himself to get up, then head for O'Tolleys.
It took him a while, but he made it there. His broken arm hurt terribly, but he ignored the pain. He was now so ravenously hungry that he needed to eat, and the only food that he had found seemed to be in the dumpster outside O'Tolleys. With his one arm, he opened up the dumpster lid. With the other arm, he held his nose and breathed through his mouth.
The food was surprisingly not rotten. Many of the burgers seemed to be completely preserved. Mark reached for a burger and examined it carefully. It appeared edible enough and he shoved it in his mouth, trying not to think about the fact it was food from a freaking dumpster. He was just about to begin chewing when he realized that the burger was moving and squeaking inside his mouth. He opened his mouth, pulled the burger out and saw a rat chewing on the burger meat.
For a few stunned seconds Mark actually contemplated eating the burger complete with rat inside. He was that hungry.
Then he realized what was happening and he was so revolted that he nearly hurled the rat-burger into orbit, at the same time scrabbling away from the dumpster and dry retching. Then he practically ran to the park to get some water to clean his mouth out.
Gosh Dang it to Heck!
That's when it all became too hard. Going through this hellish trial, just to join a tribe he was only joining because he was forced to pick a tribe, joining the Garou Nation when he didn't even want to? He fell to his knees, still dry retching, feel horribly nauseous, and basically felt miserable. Oh yeah, and IT WAS STILL GOSH DANGED RAINING. It hadn't stopped raining since last night.
I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm hungry, I'm injured, I'm tired, I'm sick . .. Dang it! DANG IT ALL!
He could feel tears running down his face and he hated himself for it. In his head he could hear the echo.
STOP CRYING, WEAKLING! STOP IT!
He wanted to shift to Crinos and burn the city to the ground. He wanted to slay every living thing within a hundred miles. He wanted to yell his Rage to the heavens and have the whole world struck by lightning and burnt to a crisp. He just didn't want to deal with this anymore. Not with his arm, not with this City, not with the whole Wyrm thing, not with anything. He just wanted to drop off the face of the planet and die.
It took him a little while, about twenty minutes, before he finally managed to compose himself. He wiped his face to get rid of the tears with his free arm, then wiped his nose which had been running like a leaking tap. His eyes shone with determination and he gritted his teeth.
I am not going to die here. I am NOT going to let this beat me.
He glared up at the sky.
DO YOU HEAR ME, WHOEVER IS LISTENING? Is that all you've got?! A little rain shower, a broken arm, a rat and a small group of unwashed morons?
I am NOT going to lay down and die. I am NOT going to give into depression. You're going to have to try harder than that!
"You HEAR me!?" Mark shouted, absolutely stunning the passersby on the street. "I AM NOT GOING TO DIE from this stupid trial!"
Somebody threw a shoe at him, knocking him half unconscious. "Oh, shut up weirdo!"
Mark spent four days without eating before he finally ate from the dumpster at O'Tolleys This time, there were no rats. It still didn't stop Mark from vomiting violently after he'd eaten. And that didn't stop Mark from immediately shoving more food in his mouth. This time it managed to say down.
During the nights, he spent the time sleeping on the streets. He soon learned the location of the homeless people and learned to keep away from them. There hadn't been any more attacks, but once or twice he'd spotted the "Crew-Crew" from a distance and laid low. He mentally told himself that this Crew-Crew would have an unfortunate accident the moment Mark got this stupid glyph off his head. He would kill all of them. He swore an oath to himself.
But that could only happen when he could shift again, so for now he had to swallow his pride. And plan. He passed the time by thinking, studying and planning.
On the sixth day he broke into a chemist because he was getting really worried about his injured arm. He had set the bone and put it in a splint and tied it up with garbage bags as best as he could, but in his human form he didn't have any of the Werewolf's famous healing powers. His current lifestyle was also not contributing to a sterile environment, and the wound was open and exposed to the air. It hurt a lot and Mark was becoming worried that it was infected. He knew that an infection could most likely kill him.
He had also stepped sideways into the Umbra to see what was going on. In the Umbra, he'd had a bit of a shock. His arm most definitely was infected. In the Umbra, the entire forearm from finger to elbow was black, oozing pus and leaking black stuff wherever he went.
He also noticed that he was being followed by a brightly glowing speck of light.
Mark knew what this thing was. It was a Gafling, a minor spirit allied to the Garou Nation, bound by the Rite Master and sent out to keep an eye on him. It was only a minor spirit, but it was there and there was nothing Mark could really do about it. He knew that it was there to ensure he played by the Rules of the Trial.
On the sixth day, Mark broke into a doctor's surgery at night by breaking down the front door. Alarms went off everywhere and Mark lunged for the antibiotics and the antiseptics. He ignored the pain killers and the hard drugs, but he did take the clean bandages to fix his arm more carefully. Then he had to run like hell before the police arrived and beat him up. He fled into the night with his armful of medication, until he reached his safe haven under a bridge with his mattress. He fixed up his arm as best as he could, but it still didn't look good and he began to wonder if it was going to fall off.
Finally, on the seventh day, the rain finally stopped. Mark sat on a hill in a park, watching people play on the swings, eating his lunch of god knows how old burger and drinking water, when finally there came a voice behind him.
"Crikey, kid – that arm looks bleeding terrible."
Mark recognised the voice. It was Burke, of course. He didn't turn to look at him, however, just simply kept staring out over the hill and watching the people on the swings. Observing, but not fully belonging.
"Kid? Mark? Legacy? Hellooo? You listening?"
Mark nodded. "I hear you. Do I have to go back now?"
Burke whistled. "Yep. How was your week?"
Mark sighed. "Terrible."
Burke laughed. "Don't worry, that's what it's like for all of us. The other tribes may think us Bone Gnawers love the City, but we find it just as hard to deal with as the rest of them. It really is like a Scab on Gaia, isn't it."
Mark sighed. Not this Gaia religious stuff again. "I guess so," he replied.
"Well, don't worry about it. You've passed the Trial of the Rat with flying colours." He tapped Mark on the head with a finger. "There – I've removed the glyph. We can go home now."
Mark stood. "Not yet. There's something I want to do first." He got to his feet and began to walk in the direction of the toilets.
Burke blinked. "Where are you going?"
Mark answered him. "There's a gang around here called Crew-Crew. They beat me up and broke my arm. I want to teach them a lesson."
Burke blinked for a moment, but then laughed. "Crew-Crew? Oh, don't worry about them; they're just a pack of Bone Gnawer Garou. They were just messing with you, kid."
Mark stopped, turned and blinked. "Really?"
Burke nodded. "Really. It was just a joke, so don't worry about it. Let's go home, fellow Bone Gnawer."
So those people were Garou. That complicates things. Mark's original plan of simply switching to Crinos form and slaying them all wouldn't work if they were Garou as well. He would have to be sneakier... stealthier.
But they would get their comeuppance eventually. He swore it.
Two days after passing his trial, with his arm still injured due to not healing correctly, Mark and the other cubs stood up in front of a group of Garou to complete their Rites of Passage.
"Charlotte Jackson, stand up," the Rite Master called out. "Your task was to prove your strength and loyalty to Gaia's plight. You did this by going into the very centre, directly into the path of danger. There, you confronted and defeated a powerful spirit of the Wyrm. You have proven yourself worthy. Remember, however, that we are all of Gaia. We are Garou of honour and wisdom as well as glorious."
The Rite Master stared directly at her. "I name you Lemon Bitters, Cliath of the Get of Fenrir and full blooded member of Gaia's warriors."
Cheers echoed around the room. "Lemon Bitters! Lemon Bitters! Lemon Bitters!"
The Rite Master held up his hand and signalled for quiet again. Then he turned to Matthew.
"Matthew Riewoldt. When I first met you, you were only just aware of yourself, only on the cusp of acknowledging your new identity. I sent you forward to prove yourself to your Auspice and to your tribe. You have done so, with flying colors. Remember, however, that you must never forget your old identity as an ordinary human. The skills you learnt will serve you well in your new life. As a Garou, you will forever be the walker between the worlds, of spirit and flesh, of human and wolf, of nature and the supernatural. I name you Walks on Wire, Cliath of the Glass Walkers and full blooded member of Gaia's Warriors."
Cheers echoed around the room. "Walks on Wire! Walks on Wire! Walks on Wire!"
Some of these names are really weird, Mark thought to himself. What sort of monstrosity are they going to give me?
"Ford Falcon..." the Rite Master began.
Ford raised his hand, then immediately held his nose to stifle an enormous sneeze. "Yeesh, Master?"
"Many believed that you were not capable of surviving as a Garou. Many believed you were not capable of surviving at all. They looked upon you and saw only weakness. However, you looked upon yourself and saw strength. True strength comes from the heart, not the body. You turned your greatest weakness into your greatest strength and proved yourself worthy."
The Rite master smiled. "I name you Valorous Sneeze, Cliath of the Bone Gnawers and full blooded member of Gaia's warriors."
Cheers echoed around the room, without a hint of laughter. "Valorous Sneeze! Valorous Sneeze! Valorous Sneeze!"
That's the worst one yet, Mark thought to himself.
"Mark Allen, Legacy of the Three Fangs, stand up," said the Rite Master.
Stop calling me that, Mark thought to himself as he stood up. It wasn't my fault those three idiots offed themselves.
"You underwent the Trial of the Rat, spending a week alone in an unknown land far from home. There you endured hardship and misery, learning first hand of the pain and punishment Innocent Gaia has been subjected to by the humans. You saw the pollution and corruption. You felt the pain and woe. But instead of giving into despair or turning away from Gaia's plight, your eyes shone with icy determination and you persevered.
"I name you Warrior of Ice, Cliath of the Bone Gnawers and full blooded member of Gaia's warriors."
The sound of clapping was deafening and cheers echoed around the room. "Warrior of Ice! Warrior of Ice! Warrior of Ice!"
Mark, the newly named Cliath thought to himself defiantly.
Not Warrior of Ice. My name is Mark.
Author's Note:
Alright, I'm going to admit that I was really tempted to just end it right there, instead of writing the rest of the story. Pity April fool's day isn't anytime soon.
Warning: The next chapter of Warrior of Ice might be a little delayed, as I'm due to head into hospital for a cholecystectomy, or gallbladder removal operation. As far as I can remember, I haven't been under anaesthesia before so I don't know how I'll react. If the next chapter comes out and it's anything near the level of the Harry Potter fanfic "My Immortal", then it's probably because I'm high on drugs. d
david. .7 : You are completely and utterly awesome for reviewing my story. *200 werewolves howl and break dance in your honor*
