Chapter Six: John Lightfoot and the first dream

Garrett arrived at the Bear's Den an hour or so before dusk. It was a fairly rustic establishment, decked out in dark wood, but appeared to be a fairly busy place as far as small town bars can be. It was probably the only bar for miles.

He pulled his Harley into the gravel parking lot and took a quick look around. His name was up on a sign in front that advertised the night's events. He smiled at this, unstrapped his guitar from the bike and went inside.

As he walked through the doors, he took in the place. It was fairly dark as most bars tend to be; it also was fairly spacious, with a modest dance floor. There were already a few regulars, even though it was only about 5:00.

Before he could get to the stage, a rather large man stepped in his way. He was tall, about six and a half feet, burly and rather unkempt, with a gruff looking beard.

"You must be Rainbird," he said, extending his hand. "They call me Bear. I own this place."

"Good to meet you," Garrett said. "Nice place you have here."

Bear nodded and looked to the stage. "It gets me by," he said. "You'll set up over there. We have everything that your agent said you would need."

"It looks like it," Garrett said. "Now, shall we discuss business?"

"You'll play a three hour set starting at eight," he said matter of factly. "How good you are determines how well you get paid. And if you want anything to drink, it comes out of your pay. Also, since your agent told me I needed to, I arranged for a room at the hotel down the street. They don't have any single rooms, so it's a double."

"Sounds great, thanks."

Garrett walked to the stage, guitar in hand and got situated. It wasn't a great setup, but it would do well enough.

It was still a little early, so he found a table and ordered a beer. He lit up a cigarette and relaxed for a little while. He took in the feel of the place and started piecing together what he would play for the people. Probably a lot of classic rock, some Skynnyrd, some Zeppelin ... hell maybe even a little country to get them rowdy for a bit. He would play pretty much anything that would make them buy more beer, which in turn, would mean a better paycheck.

The time rolled around and he took the stage. By then, a few more people had shown up and it would be a decent sized audience. He started his first set and let his music do the talking. The crowd took it in and cheered. They got rowdy once or twice when he played to their likes. But mostly they just sat back and enjoyed themselves by drinking and listening.

The first set ended and he took a break, settling into another beer or two. Bear came up to the table with a smile on his face barely visible through his beard.

"You're better than your agent said you were," he said with a grin that revealed a missing tooth. "Don't worry about the beer. It's all on me."

Garrett nodded with a smile and raised his bottle. The audience was loving the music and the atmosphere was friendly. It was a pleasant change from playing some vampire club in the city with everyone in the crowd plotting on one another and trying to figure out how to kill him without making a scene.

It came time for his second set and he got back on the stage. He played to the crowd and they loved it. Easy money. Yeah, a lot more fun than a vampire club, even though they did tend to pay very well.

Once the second set was over, he packed up his guitar and went back to his table to have another beer before closing time. Bear came up to him shortly afterwards.

"That was one hell of a show, kid," Bear said while counting out twenty dollar bills. "You earned your keep and then some."

He handed Garrett approximately $900.

He took the money and put it in his pocket without even counting it. "Much obliged. Now, where did you say that hotel was?"

"It's the Motel Six right down the street from here," Bear said. "But I have a favor to ask of you."

"Go ahead."

"I got a guy here that don't have a place to stay tonight and doesn't have much money. I figured since you have a double room, that you wouldn't mind letting him bunk up with you for the night."

"Who is he?" Garrett asked.

Bear pointed across the room to a table in the corner. "His name's John Lightfoot. Seems like an okay guy."

Garrett peered across the smoky barroom. The man had an average build with an almost military style haircut. There was one thing that made him stick out from the crowd though. There were four distinct slash marks running down one side of his face and neck, signifying a bad injury, years ago. He didn't appear to have any Wyrm taint, so Garrett agreed to the deal.

He walked over to the man's table and sat down.

"So I hear you need a place to stay," Garrett said, looking him in the eye.

"You heard right," the man said, looking back. "The name's Lightfoot, John Lightfoot."

"Good to meet you," Garrett said. "Listen, I'm about to get out of here and get some sleep. Do you have any wheels?"

"Yeah, I have a truck outside."

"All right then, you can follow me."

The two exited the bar and rode down to the Motel Six. Sure enough, the light was on. Garrett got a key from the front desk and then went to grab some things from his bike. John waited, duffel bag in hand and followed him up.

They lay down in their respective beds and proceeded to get some shut-eye.

Strange things started to happen under Garrett's eyelids after he lost consciousness.

What appeared to be a fox tail flashed briefly before him. It appeared to be running from someone or something.

The world shifted suddenly to what looked like a small town. A sign said Potter's Mill and the sun was shining brightly. Lawns were green and nicely trimmed and it looked like a nice place.

Then the fox came running by again. A dark figure appeared and his face briefly reflected off a window on one of the houses. The sky darkened. Suddenly the town looked like it had been abandoned for years. Everything looked dead.

Garrett pursued the strange figure down a few streets and came to a tangled wood line. He kept on pursuing but he lost the trail soon after getting into the woods. Then he came upon a strange clearing. There was a large bluish stone in the center with a splotch of red on one side. As he watched, the spot grew larger, until it nearly covered the stone in red. There was a scream of pain as a woman fell to the ground, previously hidden on the other side of the rock. Another scream and her blood sprayed the rock and covered the last of it in red. Her screams tore at Garrett's soul. He knew those screams.

Garrett woke up with a roar. He found himself in Crinos form. The bed was groaning with all the extra weight. Instinctively, he wheeled his head right, to the other bed. He didn't expect to see what he saw.

Another Crinos puma form was staring back at him.

"Well, this is surprising," John said in the Bastet speech. "I didn't really figure you for a shifter."

"You're ... you're like me," Garrett said, trying to comprehend what he saw. "You are the first Pumonca I've ever met before."

"It's not surprising," John said. "We're not that common anymore. What the hell rattled you so bad anyhow?"

"A dream," Garrett replied.

"A vision," John said. "I had one too. What was yours like?"

Garrett explained his dream. John nodded and said he had dreamed the same one.

"So what do you think this means?" Garrett asked.

"I think the two of us might have some work to do in Potter's Mill," John said. "It's about an hour east of here. Something's wrong and it has Wyrm written all over it. There's a caern over there somewhere … it's a holy place for the Garou, and it's in trouble. I think the totem spirit over there is calling to us for help."

Garrett looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside him. It read 4:00 a.m. "Well, at any rate, we can't do much right now, so let's get back to sleep."

Garrett shifted down to homid form, noticing he had ripped the clothes off his body as usual.

"Oh good God, I didn't want to see that," John said, averting his eyes. "You don't know how to bond clothing?"

"Bond ... what?"

"Don't worry about it, I'll teach you tomorrow. But for now, please put some damn clothes on."

Garrett pulled another set of clothes from one of his saddle bags and lay back down to sleep.