* * * * *
Legal Stuff: I don't own Werewolf: the Apocalypse. I'm not actually sure who does own it these days, but I know it's someone at White Wolf. Anyway, most of the characters in this story (with the exception of a few cameos by White Wolf's signature characters) are my own creations. But the world they inhabit is not.
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* * * * *
The First Change
by 18th Angel
* * * * *
Chapter 3
* * * * *
Aaron stood, transfixed. He had only seen the girl in front of him twice before. When his mother had died, two years earlier, he had found a picture of her in her home. Miriam had been an infant in the picture, barely a day old.
The second time occurred shortly after his own First Change. He had bargained, cajoled, and, in the end, pleaded with every spirit he could find to learn her location. He had seen her in the playground at her school, but dared not approach her. If she had seen him at all, it had been as nothing more than a stranger in the street, dismissed in seconds and never thought of again.
Now here they were, face to face. What was he supposed to do? Say 'Hello'? Too distant. Hug her? Too personal. What the hell did you say to a sister who had never met you?
"I'm...glad you're safe." He finally said. When in doubt, stick to the truth. "I meant to come and get you myself, but I got...held up."
"That's okay." Miriam finally seemed to find her voice. "Elena helped me."
"Thank you Elena." Aaron said.
Elena shook her head. "Don't let her fool you." She said. "She didn't need that much help. She took down *three* Black Spirals before I could even reach her."
"I...just got lucky." Miriam said self-consciously.
"Don't knock it." Elena replied. "Sometimes a fight just comes down to who's luckier. Be glad it was you."
"Screw luck." Mamoru spoke up behind him. "Three Black Spirals? There's more than luck going on there."
"I agree." Aaron said. "You did well." He debated before making his next statement. "Mother would be proud of you."
The girl seemed to brighten up at that, which was good. It could have gone either way, smiles or tears. Fortunately, as Aaron was quickly learning, his sister was stronger than she appeared.
"It's time to go." He said. "They won't wait forever."
* * * * *
Miriam's second trip through a Moon Bridge was just as cold and disorienting as her first, but at least it was shorter. They emerged on the shore of a large lake. Mountains rose in the distance, bathed in moonlight. A thick fog hung over the lake.
Two people, a man and woman, were waiting for them next to a small boat. The woman had short black hair and tanned skin. Her cut-off tank top left her midriff bare. Three long scars, claw marks from the look of them, lay across her belly. Her companion was a man in his late teens or early twenties; it was hard to tell exactly. He wore traditional Native American clothing and carried a large, wooden spear with a blade of polished steel. Both smiled as they approached.
"Is this the girl?" The woman asked.
Aaron nodded. "This is Miriam." He said.
The woman held out a hand, which Miriam timidly accepted. Her handshake was surprisingly firm; there was a lot of strength in her arms.
"I'm Mari." She introduced herself. "And this is Evan." She gestured to her companion, who nodded briefly. "Thank you for bringing her. We'll take it from here."
"Should we wait here?" Her brother's friend, Mamoru asked. "I mean, how long will it take."
"That's for Gaia to decide." The man named Evan finally spoke up. Mari nodded her agreement.
"Good luck." Elena said. Mari gestured to the small boat, where Evan was already seated, oars in hand. Nervously, Miriam stepped into the boat and sat down. Mari followed, pushing the boat off from shore and leaping in at the last minute.
"Where are we going?" Miriam asked as fog swallowed the shoreline.
"There's a sacred place on the other side of this lake, up in the mountains." Mari said. "We're going there."
"What's up there?"
"A test." Evan said. "This is your Rite of Passage."
"A test?" Miriam stammered. "But...I don't know anything. I didn't even know I was a werewolf until a few hours ago."
Evan smiled. "It's not that kind of test." He said. "Not like any test you've taken in school. The Rite of Passage tests the nature of your soul. It shows you your true self, so you can join your tribe knowing who and what you are."
"You did this?"
"We all do." Mari said.
"Not this exact test." Evan said. "But every cub has a Rite of Passage. And no two are alike. Now, as for you not knowing anything; ask away."
"Huh?"
"Well that's why I'm here. Apparently someone got it into their head that I'm good at explaining things." Mari made a laughing noise. "Anyway, Mari asked me to give you the basics."
*Where do I even start?* Miriam wondered. There were so many questions she had to ask. She decided to start small.
"What's my auspice?"
Evan smiled again, a friendly smile. Miriam could see why he had been chosen to talk to her. Mari seemed nice enough, but she didn't radiate compassion the way Evan did.
"Well there's been a spirit following you around since the day you were born." He said. "If you give me a second, I'll try asking her."
* * * * *
Miriam learned a lot in their trip across the lake. She learned that she was a Philodox, a Half Moon, as was Evan. He also taught her a lot about the Garou in general, so much that her head swam just wondering how he could remember it all.
But for all that, there was still one question she had to ask. The question that had been burning her up all night.
"Why me? Out of all the people in the world, why me? Or why my brother, or either of you? How did we get chosen for this?"
Evan took the question in stride. Apparently he got that one a lot. "We don't know." He said plainly. "Not everyone who has a werewolf for a parent becomes one of us. For example, your mother Changed, but your uncle never did; and he never will. He's what we call Kinfolk. Actually, the chances against both you *and* your brother being Garou were...unimaginable. But it happened. For whatever reason, when we're born, Luna reaches down and kisses us. None of us knows why she chooses one person and skips another. But I don't like to think it's a random thing. She picked you for a reason. And someday, She'll let you see what it was."
"We're here." Mari said.
"Good luck, Miriam." Evan said. "I hope I've been helpful."
"Wait. You're not coming with us?" Miriam asked. Evan shook his head.
"No man has ever seen the place we're going to." Mari said.
"I'll be right here when you get back." Evan assured her.
"Come on." Mari said, transforming into a large, black and white wolf. "We've got a lot of walking to do."
* * * * *
Miriam followed Mari deep into the fog-choked woods. Their path gradually began to slope upwards. The trees thinned out as they continued to ascend. Finally, Mari stopped. Peering ahead through the fog, Miriam saw a large triangle made up of three stone arches. It reminded Miriam of pictures she had seen of Stonehenge. Next to her, Mari shifted back into Homid form. Miriam did the same.
"From here, you have to go on alone." Mari said. She turned to Miriam. "Whatever you encounter, have faith in yourself. Be true to your heart; it won't lead you astray."
Miriam nodded, trying to look braver than she felt. She hadn't been alone since she Changed; had it really only been a few hours ago? It felt like days. She didn't want to be alone again just yet. The world no longer felt safe enough to be alone in; she wasn't sure it ever would again.
Cautiously, Miriam approached the arches. She heard voices on all sides; whispering, unintelligible. She turned to look back the way she came, but Mari had disappeared. The fog had thickened to a near-solid mass; it was impossible to see anything beyond it. Dark, twisted shapes moved in the fog, blocking any escape she might have contemplated. Miriam swallowed loudly. There was no way to go now except forward.
In the center of the triangle stood a stone altar. On the altar was a single object; a polished mirror. Miriam picked up the small mirror; it didn't take a genius to figure out what she was supposed to do next.
"Okay." She whispered. "Look into the mirror. Unfocus your eyes. Look beyond the mirror. And..."
With a blast of cold air and psychedelic light, Miriam stepped into the Umbra. The otherworldly reflection of the stone circle was like nothing she had ever seen. The city's Umbral shadow had seemed vibrant and alive when she had seen it earlier this evening. But that had just been in comparison to the real world. This place made the city's reflection seem muted, ordinary even. She remembered what Evan had told her about the three forces of the Triat.
*The Weaver makes the city lifeless. But out here, the Wyld has control.* She realized. The triangle of stone arches glowed with unimaginable energy in the Umbra, turning night into day. One of the arches seemed to beckon to her. Miriam looked through the arch expecting to see the fog-shrouded woods on the other side. Instead, she saw a large room. Curious, she stepped through the arch into the room.
There was a scraping sound behind her. Miriam turned to see the stone arch morph into a large fireplace, complete with a roaring fire. The fire cast its warm glow over what looked like a Victorian era drawing room. A sofa and several large chairs stood facing the fireplace. Dozens of thick books lined the walls and a large globe stood in one corner.
In the largest chair sat a woman. Like the room itself, the woman seemed to have been pulled out of the nineteenth century. But rather than a full skirt and corset, she wore what could only be described as explorer's clothing; khaki pants and shirt, thick leather boots, and a wide-brimmed hat. There was even a canvas backpack resting on the floor by her feet, probably full of maps and traveling equipment.
"Well it's about time you showed up." The woman said, looking up as Miriam entered the room.
"Huh?" Miriam said. "Do I know you?"
The woman smiled. "Know me? Personally? Probably not." She said. "I'm just a shadow from the past. You may call me Deborah."
Miriam didn't quite get what the woman meant, and it must have showed on your face.
"Didn't your elders tell you anything about ancestor spirits?" Deborah asked.
"You're...my ancestor?" Miriam asked.
"Give the little lady a cigar! That's right." Deborah nodded. "One of many. I'm here to see how smart you really are." She gestured to the chair across from her. "Have a seat."
Miriam crossed the room and sat down. Already, her stomach was beginning to tie itself in knots. Evan had said that she wasn't going to be tested on her knowledge of Garou society. Had he lied?
"Okay?" She said. "I'm ready."
Deborah smiled. "Okay." She said. "First question: What goes on four legs in the morning, two legs in the day, and three legs in the evening?"
"Huh?" That wasn't the kind of question Miriam had expected.
"You do understand the contest don't you?" Deborah asked.
"Contest?" Then it struck her. "A riddle contest!"
"Well of course." Deborah said. "Did you think I was going ask you history questions or something?"
"Well..."
"All acquired knowledge, no matter how vast, is useless unless it's coupled with natural cleverness." Deborah said. "Now, do you know the answer?"
Miriam thought for a second; she had heard this one somewhere before. If she could just remember..."
"A person!" She exclaimed. "A person crawls when they're a baby, walks on two legs when they grow up, and uses a cane when they're old."
Deborah shrugged. "Well I gave you a break that time. Everybody knows *that* riddle these days. Your turn."
"My turn?"
"I thought you said you understood the rules." Deborah said. "The only way to win is to ask a riddle your opponent cannot answer."
"Oh. Okay." Miriam thought for a minute. "What's the only nail you shouldn't hit with a hammer?"
Deborah smiled. "Why, your thumbnail, of course." She said casually.
"Crap! Okay, go ahead." Miriam muttered.
"I'm thinking of an object. The person who builds it does not want it; the person who buys it does not need it; and the person who uses it will never see it. What is it?"
Miriam sat back in her chair. This one was going to take a while. The person who made it doesn't want it, but why make something you don't want, except to sell it? For that matter, why buy something you don't need. It all rested on the guy who used the item, but never saw it. What item did you use without seeing it?
"I got it!" Miriam called triumphantly. "It's a coffin!"
"Very good." Deborah said. "You are clever. But clever enough? That remains to be seen."
"Okay, let me think." Miriam reached back to every riddle she had ever heard, searching for one that Deborah might not know or be able to figure out. "Okay." She finally said. "A man walks through a parking lot to his car. The streetlamps aren't on and he doesn't have a flashlight, but he has no trouble finding his car. How?"
Deborah grinned tightly, sitting back in her chair.
*Good* Miriam thought. *She has to think about it.*
After a minute or so of silence, Deborah spoke up. "I suppose it must be daytime."
That took a little wind out of Miriam's sails. She had been hoping that Deborah wouldn't get that one. However, the contest wasn't over yet.
Deborah leaned forward before speaking. "How far can you walk into the woods?"
"What? That's not a riddle." Miriam protested.
"I beg to differ." Deborah said. "It is very much a riddle."
"But what woods? I mean..."
"Any woods." Came the reply. Miriam was silent. "Does this mean you're giving up."
"Not on your life!" Miriam snapped. "I'll figure this out; just give me a minute."
"Take your time." Deborah said. "I've nowhere to be."
Miriam pondered the riddle for what felt like hours. There didn't seem to be a way to answer. Deborah had said 'any woods'. But every forest was a different size, so walking as far as you could into one forest might only get you halfway into... That was it!
"Halfway! Once you reach the middle, you start walking out!"
"Now I am impressed." Deborah said. "No-one's ever given me quite this much of a challenge."
Miriam felt a rush of pride at that, but she couldn't get cocky. It was her turn to ask again. Then she remembered the hardest riddle she had ever heard. She'd never actually figured it out. In the end, she had looked the answer up in a riddle book. Hopefully, it would baffle Deborah as much as it had baffled Miriam.
"Two men each took their sons to a baseball game. Both men had one son, yet the entire group only bought three tickets. How is that possible?"
Miriam could tell from the look on Deborah's face that she had won. The older woman pondered for several minutes, but in the end she threw her hands up in frustration.
"I...don't know." Her voice sounded strange, as if she wasn't used to saying those words. "You win."
The fireplace morphed back into the stone arch.
"The next trial won't be this pleasant I'm afraid." Deborah said. There was no malice in her voice. She was simply stating a fact. Miriam nodded and turned to leave. "Wait!" Deborah called out. "Please, tell me the answer."
"Oh, right." Miriam said. "Well one man was a grandfather. He took his son, and that son took his own son. Three guys, two of whom had sons."
Deborah clapped her hands, delighted. "Brilliant!" She exclaimed. "Oh, you'll do fine, Miriam. You'll make us all proud."
"Us?"
"Your ancestors." She said. "It's quite a long line, you know. We've been watching you for years, but I must say you're exceeding even my expectations."
"Uh...thank you." Miriam said. Somehow the thought of her ancestors watching her gave her a strange feeling. She didn't want to let them down.
"Be strong, Miriam." Deborah said. "The next trials are hard, but they're nothing you can't handle."
Miriam nodded and stepped through the stone arch. She turned around, but the room, and Deborah with it, was already gone.
* * * * *
Turning back around, Miriam was faced with two more arches. The one on the right seemed to be glowing slightly. She took a step closer. Looking through the arch, Miriam saw a long, stone hallway. The stone began gray but the further down the hall Miriam looked, the more the walls faded to reddish orange.
Summoning up her courage, Miriam stepped through the glowing arch. The hall was silent.
"Hello?" Miriam called.
--Do you wish to proceed?--
Miriam whirled around, looking for the source of the voice. Seeing no one, she called out again.
"Hello?"
--Do you wish to proceed?--
"Uh...that's kind of why I'm here." She said.
--Then step forward.--
Miriam didn't hesitate. She took a step forward. The instant her foot hit the floor, a dull ache shot up her leg. She stopped, reaching down and rubbing her leg to remove the pain.
--Stopping already?--
"No." Miriam said forcefully. "I just got a little cramp in my leg."
--Then take another step.--
Miriam lifted her foot.
--But know that your next step will hurt more than the last. And the step after that will hurt even more. By the time you reach the end of the hall, if you make it that far, the pain you feel will be unimaginable.--
"What is this?"
--You have proven that your wits are sharp. But a true warrior of Gaia must have determination. You must learn to ignore your own pain in order to do what must be done.--
Miriam's breathing was already speeding up. God, she didn't want to walk down this hallway. Tentatively, she took another step forward. As promised, the pain was twice as intense, a sharp pang that shot through her entire lower body.
An idea came to Miriam. If she ran, it would be over sooner. That plan fell apart three steps into its execution. It hurt too much to run. Her entire midsection cramped up, making her double over. Far from running, now she could barely walk. A river of tears ran down her face but she pressed on, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the next. Each step felt like fiery nails being driven through her feet.
Finally, halfway down the hall, Miriam found she couldn't suffer in silence any longer. She screamed. Her scream echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the hard stone walls. Perhaps whoever was testing her would see that as a sign of weakness, but Miriam couldn't make herself care. Besides, the voice had never said she had to be stoic about her pain.
The scream carried her another few feet down the corridor. By now the walls were bright red, and radiated intense heat. It felt like she was inside an oven. Much as she would have liked to lean against the wall for support, she dared not touch it for fear of being burned.
She continued down the corridor, each step an explosion of agony. Then she tripped. One foot caught on the other in mid-step and she fell over. Without thinking, she put her hands out in front of her to stop her fall. She screamed again as the red-hot floor burned her palms. Smoke rose from underneath her hands and the sickening smell of charred flesh filled the hallway.
Miriam forced herself to stand up; forced herself not to look at her ruined hands. The end of the hall was in sight. Just a few more feet and it would all be over. With each step, Miriam felt she would pass out. Somehow, she remained conscious. With one final scream, she fell against the blank wall at the end of the tunnel. The wall gave way and Miriam found herself back outside, breathing in the cool mountain air.
--Well done.-- The voice called out. --You may have what it takes after all.--
Miriam barely heard the compliment. She lay on the ground sobbing, her tears soaking into the earth. Most of the pain was gone, but the palms of her hands still burned. Reluctantly, not really wanting to see, she lifted her hands in front of her face. Both palms were charred completely black. Huge, ugly blisters covered her hands. She could actually see bone poking through the tips of her fingers where skin and muscle had been completely burned away. She suddenly realized that, while her palms felt like they were on fire, she could not feel her fingers at all. The nerves had been burned away.
Miriam turned her head away quickly, fighting her gag reflex. The last thing her hands needed right now was for her to throw up on them. She stood up. She needed a doctor immediately. But she knew the only way out was to complete this test. And that meant facing whatever lay behind the third stone arch.
* * * * *
Miriam didn't even look through the final arch. Whatever was inside, she would have to face it anyway, so she saw no point in frightening herself with it beforehand.
Miriam was acutely aware that she didn't look like any kind of warrior. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her hair was still matted with dried blood. Her hands held out from her sides to avoid rubbing the raw burns on the fabric of her skirt. So she was less than thrilled to find herself in a scaled-down copy of the Roman Coliseum. In the real world, places like this were made for one purpose; fighting. And Miriam didn't feel ready to fight.
"What is it this time?" She asked aloud. She held up her hands. "You expect me to fight with *these*?"
--You fight with whatever you have available.--
"Um...I have nothing!" She yelled. "I couldn't hold a weapon right now even if I had one!"
"Typical." A voice came from across the arena. "Relying on tools to get you through. Did it ever occur to you to rely on yourself?"
For once, Miriam didn't have a comeback. After all, what did you say when your mirror image was taunting you? The girl walking toward Miriam didn't just look like her. She was her. Every detail was a perfect copy. Except, Miriam noted bitterly, the copy's hands were unblemished.
"You're a werewolf." Her clone continued in a 'What kind of idiot are you?' voice. "What could you possibly need a weapon for? Your own body is the single greatest weapon Gaia ever created."
"But...I don't know..."
"Know?" The copy cut her off. "You don't need to know anything! Use your instincts! You have them for a reason, you know!" She dropped into a fighting stance. "Either way, you'd better figure out what to do pretty quick, 'cause I'm not going to go easy on you."
"Wait!" But the copy was already charging. She lashed out with one fist, catching Miriam in her temple. Stars exploded in Miriam's head as she fell to the ground. Her hands skidded across the coarse sand of the arena floor, she screamed as new pain exploded in her palms.
"Heh. Pathetic." Her copy snorted. "You don't even know how to make yourself heal."
Despite her pain, Miriam had had all she could stand of the copy's taunting. She scrambled to her feet and threw a punch of her own, which the doppelganger easily dodged. The copy thrust its leg out, catching Miriam in the stomach. She doubled over, gasping for breath. Again she tried to strike her opponent; and again, she hit nothing but air.
"Don't you get it?" The copy said. "You can't beat me like this. With those hands you can barely make a fist. And forget about hitting anything. You know you could be a lot stronger if you wanted to."
Miriam ignored the clone, trying instead to kick it. Her kick was blocked with painful force.
"Oh, I get it." The copy said. "You still want to be Miss Normal Girl."
"Shut up!" The fight was frustrating enough without the constant taunting.
"That's it isn't it? You don't want to Change because that would mean accepting that you're a predator instead of a human being. Is that it?"
"Of course that's it!" Miriam screamed. "I never asked to be a werewolf! I don't want all this responsibility! I don't want to hurt people! I DON'T WANT TO BE A MONSTER!"
"But that's what you are." The clone said quietly. "You can't change it, any more than you can change your gender, or the color of your hair. It's a part of you."
"No!"
"If you do not accept your destiny, innocent people will suffer. Look." Across the Arena, a huge gate opened up. Something moved in the darkness beyond the gate.
"What is that?"
"A Bane." Her copy answered. "A servant of the Wyrm. It exists to corrupt and pervert everything in its path. The only way to stop it is to kill it. Now you have a decision to make. Which is more important; having a so-called 'normal life', or making sure that thing, and others like it, can never hurt anyone again?"
"It's not that I don't want to help people...it's just..."
"It's alright to be afraid. Fear can keep you alive. But don't be owned by your fear."
Across the arena, the Bane slithered out of the gate into the moonlight. It was, without doubt, the most horrible thing Miriam had ever seen; even the Black Spiral Dancers paled in comparison. The Bane was the size of a small horse. It dragged itself forward with six twisted, malformed legs. Instead of skin, it seemed to be covered with some type of sickly green fungus. The smell that wafted across the arena was suffocating; rotting wood and body odor tinged with sulfur. Miriam recoiled at the horror.
"This is your final task Miriam. This is where you learn who you are. Do you have the courage to face that which terrifies you?" Miriam got the distinct impression that her copy wasn't talking about the Bane. Staring at the hideous creature, Miriam knew her answer. Nothing was more important than destroying the loathsome thing forever.
Reaching into her subconscious, tapping into newly uncovered instincts, Miriam called an image to her mind. A giant, black and silver beast, somewhere between human and wolf. And she knew that the only way to destroy the monster coming towards her was to once again become the monster in her mind's eye.
She let go, concentrating on the image in her head. She felt her body shifting, growing. Her muscles bulged. Her bones crumbled to powder and rebuilt themselves in new shapes. Her clothes seemed to melt into her skin as thick, black and silver fur grew all over her body. In seconds, the transformation was complete.
"Excellent."
She turned to see that her copy had changed as well. She too had assumed the monstrous half-wolf form.
"Very well done." The clone continued. She didn't so much speak as emit a series of animal growls and snarls, but somehow the meaning was as clear to Miriam as if she had spoken plain English. "Give yourself a hand."
Miriam looked down. Amazingly, her burnt hands were almost completely healed. The swollen blisters were gone and smooth, if slightly red, skin had replaced the charred areas of her hands.
"You look surprised." Her copy growled. "In this form you can heal just about anything, with one or two exceptions. Now are you ready to fight?"
Miriam gazed at the approaching Bane. She felt the same burning rage that had filled her when the Black Spiral Dancers threatened her. When she spoke, her words came a snarls and growls, but again, the meaning was clear.
"I'm ready."
* * * * *
TBC
* * * * *
Legal Stuff: I don't own Werewolf: the Apocalypse. I'm not actually sure who does own it these days, but I know it's someone at White Wolf. Anyway, most of the characters in this story (with the exception of a few cameos by White Wolf's signature characters) are my own creations. But the world they inhabit is not.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The First Change
by 18th Angel
* * * * *
Chapter 3
* * * * *
Aaron stood, transfixed. He had only seen the girl in front of him twice before. When his mother had died, two years earlier, he had found a picture of her in her home. Miriam had been an infant in the picture, barely a day old.
The second time occurred shortly after his own First Change. He had bargained, cajoled, and, in the end, pleaded with every spirit he could find to learn her location. He had seen her in the playground at her school, but dared not approach her. If she had seen him at all, it had been as nothing more than a stranger in the street, dismissed in seconds and never thought of again.
Now here they were, face to face. What was he supposed to do? Say 'Hello'? Too distant. Hug her? Too personal. What the hell did you say to a sister who had never met you?
"I'm...glad you're safe." He finally said. When in doubt, stick to the truth. "I meant to come and get you myself, but I got...held up."
"That's okay." Miriam finally seemed to find her voice. "Elena helped me."
"Thank you Elena." Aaron said.
Elena shook her head. "Don't let her fool you." She said. "She didn't need that much help. She took down *three* Black Spirals before I could even reach her."
"I...just got lucky." Miriam said self-consciously.
"Don't knock it." Elena replied. "Sometimes a fight just comes down to who's luckier. Be glad it was you."
"Screw luck." Mamoru spoke up behind him. "Three Black Spirals? There's more than luck going on there."
"I agree." Aaron said. "You did well." He debated before making his next statement. "Mother would be proud of you."
The girl seemed to brighten up at that, which was good. It could have gone either way, smiles or tears. Fortunately, as Aaron was quickly learning, his sister was stronger than she appeared.
"It's time to go." He said. "They won't wait forever."
* * * * *
Miriam's second trip through a Moon Bridge was just as cold and disorienting as her first, but at least it was shorter. They emerged on the shore of a large lake. Mountains rose in the distance, bathed in moonlight. A thick fog hung over the lake.
Two people, a man and woman, were waiting for them next to a small boat. The woman had short black hair and tanned skin. Her cut-off tank top left her midriff bare. Three long scars, claw marks from the look of them, lay across her belly. Her companion was a man in his late teens or early twenties; it was hard to tell exactly. He wore traditional Native American clothing and carried a large, wooden spear with a blade of polished steel. Both smiled as they approached.
"Is this the girl?" The woman asked.
Aaron nodded. "This is Miriam." He said.
The woman held out a hand, which Miriam timidly accepted. Her handshake was surprisingly firm; there was a lot of strength in her arms.
"I'm Mari." She introduced herself. "And this is Evan." She gestured to her companion, who nodded briefly. "Thank you for bringing her. We'll take it from here."
"Should we wait here?" Her brother's friend, Mamoru asked. "I mean, how long will it take."
"That's for Gaia to decide." The man named Evan finally spoke up. Mari nodded her agreement.
"Good luck." Elena said. Mari gestured to the small boat, where Evan was already seated, oars in hand. Nervously, Miriam stepped into the boat and sat down. Mari followed, pushing the boat off from shore and leaping in at the last minute.
"Where are we going?" Miriam asked as fog swallowed the shoreline.
"There's a sacred place on the other side of this lake, up in the mountains." Mari said. "We're going there."
"What's up there?"
"A test." Evan said. "This is your Rite of Passage."
"A test?" Miriam stammered. "But...I don't know anything. I didn't even know I was a werewolf until a few hours ago."
Evan smiled. "It's not that kind of test." He said. "Not like any test you've taken in school. The Rite of Passage tests the nature of your soul. It shows you your true self, so you can join your tribe knowing who and what you are."
"You did this?"
"We all do." Mari said.
"Not this exact test." Evan said. "But every cub has a Rite of Passage. And no two are alike. Now, as for you not knowing anything; ask away."
"Huh?"
"Well that's why I'm here. Apparently someone got it into their head that I'm good at explaining things." Mari made a laughing noise. "Anyway, Mari asked me to give you the basics."
*Where do I even start?* Miriam wondered. There were so many questions she had to ask. She decided to start small.
"What's my auspice?"
Evan smiled again, a friendly smile. Miriam could see why he had been chosen to talk to her. Mari seemed nice enough, but she didn't radiate compassion the way Evan did.
"Well there's been a spirit following you around since the day you were born." He said. "If you give me a second, I'll try asking her."
* * * * *
Miriam learned a lot in their trip across the lake. She learned that she was a Philodox, a Half Moon, as was Evan. He also taught her a lot about the Garou in general, so much that her head swam just wondering how he could remember it all.
But for all that, there was still one question she had to ask. The question that had been burning her up all night.
"Why me? Out of all the people in the world, why me? Or why my brother, or either of you? How did we get chosen for this?"
Evan took the question in stride. Apparently he got that one a lot. "We don't know." He said plainly. "Not everyone who has a werewolf for a parent becomes one of us. For example, your mother Changed, but your uncle never did; and he never will. He's what we call Kinfolk. Actually, the chances against both you *and* your brother being Garou were...unimaginable. But it happened. For whatever reason, when we're born, Luna reaches down and kisses us. None of us knows why she chooses one person and skips another. But I don't like to think it's a random thing. She picked you for a reason. And someday, She'll let you see what it was."
"We're here." Mari said.
"Good luck, Miriam." Evan said. "I hope I've been helpful."
"Wait. You're not coming with us?" Miriam asked. Evan shook his head.
"No man has ever seen the place we're going to." Mari said.
"I'll be right here when you get back." Evan assured her.
"Come on." Mari said, transforming into a large, black and white wolf. "We've got a lot of walking to do."
* * * * *
Miriam followed Mari deep into the fog-choked woods. Their path gradually began to slope upwards. The trees thinned out as they continued to ascend. Finally, Mari stopped. Peering ahead through the fog, Miriam saw a large triangle made up of three stone arches. It reminded Miriam of pictures she had seen of Stonehenge. Next to her, Mari shifted back into Homid form. Miriam did the same.
"From here, you have to go on alone." Mari said. She turned to Miriam. "Whatever you encounter, have faith in yourself. Be true to your heart; it won't lead you astray."
Miriam nodded, trying to look braver than she felt. She hadn't been alone since she Changed; had it really only been a few hours ago? It felt like days. She didn't want to be alone again just yet. The world no longer felt safe enough to be alone in; she wasn't sure it ever would again.
Cautiously, Miriam approached the arches. She heard voices on all sides; whispering, unintelligible. She turned to look back the way she came, but Mari had disappeared. The fog had thickened to a near-solid mass; it was impossible to see anything beyond it. Dark, twisted shapes moved in the fog, blocking any escape she might have contemplated. Miriam swallowed loudly. There was no way to go now except forward.
In the center of the triangle stood a stone altar. On the altar was a single object; a polished mirror. Miriam picked up the small mirror; it didn't take a genius to figure out what she was supposed to do next.
"Okay." She whispered. "Look into the mirror. Unfocus your eyes. Look beyond the mirror. And..."
With a blast of cold air and psychedelic light, Miriam stepped into the Umbra. The otherworldly reflection of the stone circle was like nothing she had ever seen. The city's Umbral shadow had seemed vibrant and alive when she had seen it earlier this evening. But that had just been in comparison to the real world. This place made the city's reflection seem muted, ordinary even. She remembered what Evan had told her about the three forces of the Triat.
*The Weaver makes the city lifeless. But out here, the Wyld has control.* She realized. The triangle of stone arches glowed with unimaginable energy in the Umbra, turning night into day. One of the arches seemed to beckon to her. Miriam looked through the arch expecting to see the fog-shrouded woods on the other side. Instead, she saw a large room. Curious, she stepped through the arch into the room.
There was a scraping sound behind her. Miriam turned to see the stone arch morph into a large fireplace, complete with a roaring fire. The fire cast its warm glow over what looked like a Victorian era drawing room. A sofa and several large chairs stood facing the fireplace. Dozens of thick books lined the walls and a large globe stood in one corner.
In the largest chair sat a woman. Like the room itself, the woman seemed to have been pulled out of the nineteenth century. But rather than a full skirt and corset, she wore what could only be described as explorer's clothing; khaki pants and shirt, thick leather boots, and a wide-brimmed hat. There was even a canvas backpack resting on the floor by her feet, probably full of maps and traveling equipment.
"Well it's about time you showed up." The woman said, looking up as Miriam entered the room.
"Huh?" Miriam said. "Do I know you?"
The woman smiled. "Know me? Personally? Probably not." She said. "I'm just a shadow from the past. You may call me Deborah."
Miriam didn't quite get what the woman meant, and it must have showed on your face.
"Didn't your elders tell you anything about ancestor spirits?" Deborah asked.
"You're...my ancestor?" Miriam asked.
"Give the little lady a cigar! That's right." Deborah nodded. "One of many. I'm here to see how smart you really are." She gestured to the chair across from her. "Have a seat."
Miriam crossed the room and sat down. Already, her stomach was beginning to tie itself in knots. Evan had said that she wasn't going to be tested on her knowledge of Garou society. Had he lied?
"Okay?" She said. "I'm ready."
Deborah smiled. "Okay." She said. "First question: What goes on four legs in the morning, two legs in the day, and three legs in the evening?"
"Huh?" That wasn't the kind of question Miriam had expected.
"You do understand the contest don't you?" Deborah asked.
"Contest?" Then it struck her. "A riddle contest!"
"Well of course." Deborah said. "Did you think I was going ask you history questions or something?"
"Well..."
"All acquired knowledge, no matter how vast, is useless unless it's coupled with natural cleverness." Deborah said. "Now, do you know the answer?"
Miriam thought for a second; she had heard this one somewhere before. If she could just remember..."
"A person!" She exclaimed. "A person crawls when they're a baby, walks on two legs when they grow up, and uses a cane when they're old."
Deborah shrugged. "Well I gave you a break that time. Everybody knows *that* riddle these days. Your turn."
"My turn?"
"I thought you said you understood the rules." Deborah said. "The only way to win is to ask a riddle your opponent cannot answer."
"Oh. Okay." Miriam thought for a minute. "What's the only nail you shouldn't hit with a hammer?"
Deborah smiled. "Why, your thumbnail, of course." She said casually.
"Crap! Okay, go ahead." Miriam muttered.
"I'm thinking of an object. The person who builds it does not want it; the person who buys it does not need it; and the person who uses it will never see it. What is it?"
Miriam sat back in her chair. This one was going to take a while. The person who made it doesn't want it, but why make something you don't want, except to sell it? For that matter, why buy something you don't need. It all rested on the guy who used the item, but never saw it. What item did you use without seeing it?
"I got it!" Miriam called triumphantly. "It's a coffin!"
"Very good." Deborah said. "You are clever. But clever enough? That remains to be seen."
"Okay, let me think." Miriam reached back to every riddle she had ever heard, searching for one that Deborah might not know or be able to figure out. "Okay." She finally said. "A man walks through a parking lot to his car. The streetlamps aren't on and he doesn't have a flashlight, but he has no trouble finding his car. How?"
Deborah grinned tightly, sitting back in her chair.
*Good* Miriam thought. *She has to think about it.*
After a minute or so of silence, Deborah spoke up. "I suppose it must be daytime."
That took a little wind out of Miriam's sails. She had been hoping that Deborah wouldn't get that one. However, the contest wasn't over yet.
Deborah leaned forward before speaking. "How far can you walk into the woods?"
"What? That's not a riddle." Miriam protested.
"I beg to differ." Deborah said. "It is very much a riddle."
"But what woods? I mean..."
"Any woods." Came the reply. Miriam was silent. "Does this mean you're giving up."
"Not on your life!" Miriam snapped. "I'll figure this out; just give me a minute."
"Take your time." Deborah said. "I've nowhere to be."
Miriam pondered the riddle for what felt like hours. There didn't seem to be a way to answer. Deborah had said 'any woods'. But every forest was a different size, so walking as far as you could into one forest might only get you halfway into... That was it!
"Halfway! Once you reach the middle, you start walking out!"
"Now I am impressed." Deborah said. "No-one's ever given me quite this much of a challenge."
Miriam felt a rush of pride at that, but she couldn't get cocky. It was her turn to ask again. Then she remembered the hardest riddle she had ever heard. She'd never actually figured it out. In the end, she had looked the answer up in a riddle book. Hopefully, it would baffle Deborah as much as it had baffled Miriam.
"Two men each took their sons to a baseball game. Both men had one son, yet the entire group only bought three tickets. How is that possible?"
Miriam could tell from the look on Deborah's face that she had won. The older woman pondered for several minutes, but in the end she threw her hands up in frustration.
"I...don't know." Her voice sounded strange, as if she wasn't used to saying those words. "You win."
The fireplace morphed back into the stone arch.
"The next trial won't be this pleasant I'm afraid." Deborah said. There was no malice in her voice. She was simply stating a fact. Miriam nodded and turned to leave. "Wait!" Deborah called out. "Please, tell me the answer."
"Oh, right." Miriam said. "Well one man was a grandfather. He took his son, and that son took his own son. Three guys, two of whom had sons."
Deborah clapped her hands, delighted. "Brilliant!" She exclaimed. "Oh, you'll do fine, Miriam. You'll make us all proud."
"Us?"
"Your ancestors." She said. "It's quite a long line, you know. We've been watching you for years, but I must say you're exceeding even my expectations."
"Uh...thank you." Miriam said. Somehow the thought of her ancestors watching her gave her a strange feeling. She didn't want to let them down.
"Be strong, Miriam." Deborah said. "The next trials are hard, but they're nothing you can't handle."
Miriam nodded and stepped through the stone arch. She turned around, but the room, and Deborah with it, was already gone.
* * * * *
Turning back around, Miriam was faced with two more arches. The one on the right seemed to be glowing slightly. She took a step closer. Looking through the arch, Miriam saw a long, stone hallway. The stone began gray but the further down the hall Miriam looked, the more the walls faded to reddish orange.
Summoning up her courage, Miriam stepped through the glowing arch. The hall was silent.
"Hello?" Miriam called.
--Do you wish to proceed?--
Miriam whirled around, looking for the source of the voice. Seeing no one, she called out again.
"Hello?"
--Do you wish to proceed?--
"Uh...that's kind of why I'm here." She said.
--Then step forward.--
Miriam didn't hesitate. She took a step forward. The instant her foot hit the floor, a dull ache shot up her leg. She stopped, reaching down and rubbing her leg to remove the pain.
--Stopping already?--
"No." Miriam said forcefully. "I just got a little cramp in my leg."
--Then take another step.--
Miriam lifted her foot.
--But know that your next step will hurt more than the last. And the step after that will hurt even more. By the time you reach the end of the hall, if you make it that far, the pain you feel will be unimaginable.--
"What is this?"
--You have proven that your wits are sharp. But a true warrior of Gaia must have determination. You must learn to ignore your own pain in order to do what must be done.--
Miriam's breathing was already speeding up. God, she didn't want to walk down this hallway. Tentatively, she took another step forward. As promised, the pain was twice as intense, a sharp pang that shot through her entire lower body.
An idea came to Miriam. If she ran, it would be over sooner. That plan fell apart three steps into its execution. It hurt too much to run. Her entire midsection cramped up, making her double over. Far from running, now she could barely walk. A river of tears ran down her face but she pressed on, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the next. Each step felt like fiery nails being driven through her feet.
Finally, halfway down the hall, Miriam found she couldn't suffer in silence any longer. She screamed. Her scream echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the hard stone walls. Perhaps whoever was testing her would see that as a sign of weakness, but Miriam couldn't make herself care. Besides, the voice had never said she had to be stoic about her pain.
The scream carried her another few feet down the corridor. By now the walls were bright red, and radiated intense heat. It felt like she was inside an oven. Much as she would have liked to lean against the wall for support, she dared not touch it for fear of being burned.
She continued down the corridor, each step an explosion of agony. Then she tripped. One foot caught on the other in mid-step and she fell over. Without thinking, she put her hands out in front of her to stop her fall. She screamed again as the red-hot floor burned her palms. Smoke rose from underneath her hands and the sickening smell of charred flesh filled the hallway.
Miriam forced herself to stand up; forced herself not to look at her ruined hands. The end of the hall was in sight. Just a few more feet and it would all be over. With each step, Miriam felt she would pass out. Somehow, she remained conscious. With one final scream, she fell against the blank wall at the end of the tunnel. The wall gave way and Miriam found herself back outside, breathing in the cool mountain air.
--Well done.-- The voice called out. --You may have what it takes after all.--
Miriam barely heard the compliment. She lay on the ground sobbing, her tears soaking into the earth. Most of the pain was gone, but the palms of her hands still burned. Reluctantly, not really wanting to see, she lifted her hands in front of her face. Both palms were charred completely black. Huge, ugly blisters covered her hands. She could actually see bone poking through the tips of her fingers where skin and muscle had been completely burned away. She suddenly realized that, while her palms felt like they were on fire, she could not feel her fingers at all. The nerves had been burned away.
Miriam turned her head away quickly, fighting her gag reflex. The last thing her hands needed right now was for her to throw up on them. She stood up. She needed a doctor immediately. But she knew the only way out was to complete this test. And that meant facing whatever lay behind the third stone arch.
* * * * *
Miriam didn't even look through the final arch. Whatever was inside, she would have to face it anyway, so she saw no point in frightening herself with it beforehand.
Miriam was acutely aware that she didn't look like any kind of warrior. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her hair was still matted with dried blood. Her hands held out from her sides to avoid rubbing the raw burns on the fabric of her skirt. So she was less than thrilled to find herself in a scaled-down copy of the Roman Coliseum. In the real world, places like this were made for one purpose; fighting. And Miriam didn't feel ready to fight.
"What is it this time?" She asked aloud. She held up her hands. "You expect me to fight with *these*?"
--You fight with whatever you have available.--
"Um...I have nothing!" She yelled. "I couldn't hold a weapon right now even if I had one!"
"Typical." A voice came from across the arena. "Relying on tools to get you through. Did it ever occur to you to rely on yourself?"
For once, Miriam didn't have a comeback. After all, what did you say when your mirror image was taunting you? The girl walking toward Miriam didn't just look like her. She was her. Every detail was a perfect copy. Except, Miriam noted bitterly, the copy's hands were unblemished.
"You're a werewolf." Her clone continued in a 'What kind of idiot are you?' voice. "What could you possibly need a weapon for? Your own body is the single greatest weapon Gaia ever created."
"But...I don't know..."
"Know?" The copy cut her off. "You don't need to know anything! Use your instincts! You have them for a reason, you know!" She dropped into a fighting stance. "Either way, you'd better figure out what to do pretty quick, 'cause I'm not going to go easy on you."
"Wait!" But the copy was already charging. She lashed out with one fist, catching Miriam in her temple. Stars exploded in Miriam's head as she fell to the ground. Her hands skidded across the coarse sand of the arena floor, she screamed as new pain exploded in her palms.
"Heh. Pathetic." Her copy snorted. "You don't even know how to make yourself heal."
Despite her pain, Miriam had had all she could stand of the copy's taunting. She scrambled to her feet and threw a punch of her own, which the doppelganger easily dodged. The copy thrust its leg out, catching Miriam in the stomach. She doubled over, gasping for breath. Again she tried to strike her opponent; and again, she hit nothing but air.
"Don't you get it?" The copy said. "You can't beat me like this. With those hands you can barely make a fist. And forget about hitting anything. You know you could be a lot stronger if you wanted to."
Miriam ignored the clone, trying instead to kick it. Her kick was blocked with painful force.
"Oh, I get it." The copy said. "You still want to be Miss Normal Girl."
"Shut up!" The fight was frustrating enough without the constant taunting.
"That's it isn't it? You don't want to Change because that would mean accepting that you're a predator instead of a human being. Is that it?"
"Of course that's it!" Miriam screamed. "I never asked to be a werewolf! I don't want all this responsibility! I don't want to hurt people! I DON'T WANT TO BE A MONSTER!"
"But that's what you are." The clone said quietly. "You can't change it, any more than you can change your gender, or the color of your hair. It's a part of you."
"No!"
"If you do not accept your destiny, innocent people will suffer. Look." Across the Arena, a huge gate opened up. Something moved in the darkness beyond the gate.
"What is that?"
"A Bane." Her copy answered. "A servant of the Wyrm. It exists to corrupt and pervert everything in its path. The only way to stop it is to kill it. Now you have a decision to make. Which is more important; having a so-called 'normal life', or making sure that thing, and others like it, can never hurt anyone again?"
"It's not that I don't want to help people...it's just..."
"It's alright to be afraid. Fear can keep you alive. But don't be owned by your fear."
Across the arena, the Bane slithered out of the gate into the moonlight. It was, without doubt, the most horrible thing Miriam had ever seen; even the Black Spiral Dancers paled in comparison. The Bane was the size of a small horse. It dragged itself forward with six twisted, malformed legs. Instead of skin, it seemed to be covered with some type of sickly green fungus. The smell that wafted across the arena was suffocating; rotting wood and body odor tinged with sulfur. Miriam recoiled at the horror.
"This is your final task Miriam. This is where you learn who you are. Do you have the courage to face that which terrifies you?" Miriam got the distinct impression that her copy wasn't talking about the Bane. Staring at the hideous creature, Miriam knew her answer. Nothing was more important than destroying the loathsome thing forever.
Reaching into her subconscious, tapping into newly uncovered instincts, Miriam called an image to her mind. A giant, black and silver beast, somewhere between human and wolf. And she knew that the only way to destroy the monster coming towards her was to once again become the monster in her mind's eye.
She let go, concentrating on the image in her head. She felt her body shifting, growing. Her muscles bulged. Her bones crumbled to powder and rebuilt themselves in new shapes. Her clothes seemed to melt into her skin as thick, black and silver fur grew all over her body. In seconds, the transformation was complete.
"Excellent."
She turned to see that her copy had changed as well. She too had assumed the monstrous half-wolf form.
"Very well done." The clone continued. She didn't so much speak as emit a series of animal growls and snarls, but somehow the meaning was as clear to Miriam as if she had spoken plain English. "Give yourself a hand."
Miriam looked down. Amazingly, her burnt hands were almost completely healed. The swollen blisters were gone and smooth, if slightly red, skin had replaced the charred areas of her hands.
"You look surprised." Her copy growled. "In this form you can heal just about anything, with one or two exceptions. Now are you ready to fight?"
Miriam gazed at the approaching Bane. She felt the same burning rage that had filled her when the Black Spiral Dancers threatened her. When she spoke, her words came a snarls and growls, but again, the meaning was clear.
"I'm ready."
* * * * *
TBC
* * * * *