A/N: Werewolf the Forsaken and all related names are copyright White Wolf
CHAPTER VII: Solid ground
It's been some weeks again. The elders liked the idea of us forming a pack so much they put us through a thousand tests, then sent us into many smaller assignments, to test our alloy, they would say. That means I didn't have time to write something down these last few weeks. But yesterday was weird, I think, so I had to find some time to write it up.
Well, I've got plenty of time now, to be honest. Again, thanks to what happened yesterday. It was Wednesday, and it started pretty normal, with physical training routines at dawn followed by meditation and breakfast. All the usual stuff.
So, it was just after breakfast, I was using my free time to carve up a necklace for Thunder. We'll be reaching one month of relationship tomorrow, and I wanted to show my appreciation. So, I was there, under the big tree I still don't know the name of, when this black car comes through the farm's gates.
It was a big SUV, jet black, with custom wheels emblazoned with a stylized version of the Blood Talons symbol. Our lodge owns about three of these vehicles, and they are used for social and peace gatherings, since they're pretty obvious to an enemy. It's a lot like a diplomat's car, really, which means it's also heavily protected.
So, the car heads into the garage and I lose sight of it. Couldn't care less about it, must be some high brass wanting to inspect the camp or some other bullshit like that. I went back to my carvings and tried really hard not to mess things up. It's funny, I was so nervous I almost forgot how to hold a knife.
It's really weird, the way Thunder has got to me. I still can't bring myself to say I love her, because I fear I might lie. I still catch myself thinking about that other wolf, the one I can't even say his name out loud. But I'm making progress with Thunder. We even got to share a room, and a bed, by now.
We're just sleeping together, though. I'm not ready to do anything but cuddle, and I don't know if I'll ever be ready to do anything. I can't get drunk anymore, so I think I'll never loosen myself enough to... Oh, by mother Luna! I can't say it! I can't even write it! Sex! Sex! Sex! I don't want to have sex!
Whoa, just writing that down made my heart race and I can feel my face blushing. I'm so afraid of it, actually. So afraid of getting so personal with someone, so afraid of not liking what might happen. So afraid of liking it too much...
Sigh.
I'm losing focus here. So, there was I, sitting under a tree, carving a necklace and forgetting about the world, when a shadow looms over me:
"Snake Eyes?"
I knew that voice. I didn't even have to look up to know who was talking, but I did it anyway. She was a fair skinned woman, raven hair cut short over her stern face. She wore a business suit, but one could see a silver chain dangling from her left wrist, and on the chain were etched, also in silver, the symbols of each of the five auspices of the moon. She was Juri, mistress Fireheart's beta.
"Yes?" I answered confusedly. Juri never travels far from her alpha.
"Mistress Fireheart wants to see you and your pack. Gather them and bring them to the meeting room. Keep it quiet, and be fast."
I acknowledged with a nod and set off to find my pack. Shibata and Thunder were training fencing on the gym, Fangs was repairing fishing rods by the river and Voice was going through the food stores, doing some basic inventory on what needed to be bought soon.
I had them gathered and ready for inspection in less than twenty minutes, but none of us were ready for what we saw when we entered the meeting room.
The farm only allows females on its grounds, so only the female members of Mistress Fireheart's pack had come, that meant Juri and Subtlety, the gigantic, overly muscular rahu. I didn't even notice they were on the room when we entered, because I couldn't take my eyes off the once proud and strong founder of our Lodge.
She was a withered husk of a woman. Her once long, fiery red hair had turned into an ashy grey wiry mess. Her body, once a strong and fit exemplar of a warrior was now frail and weak, and she was sitting on a wheelchair, which meant the warrior woman who once challenged Fenris Ur himself (and lost badly, by the way) was now unable to even walk. The only thing she kept from her old self was the fiery gaze, but it now burned slowly under her withered brows.
It was a shameful and sad sight. I had to hold the tears when I saw it. Fireheart was not this frail and sick woman, she was the leader of our people! I still remember her stern, motherly gaze when she came to me after the Sergeant dragged me out of the hellhole I built for myself. She taught me how to speak again, how to behave and be a person, rather than a beast. She led by example, smiting our foes with her klaive, an ancient mace infused with many spirits of war and wrath. But all those things where shattered by the vision of her now broken form:
"Snake Eyes? Come closer, my dear. By Luna, you look older."
I approached slowly, unsure of what to say or do. The meeting room wasn't big, and was dominated by a round table that I had to move around to get closer to our Mistress. When I got close enough, she reached out with both hands and gripped my right hand so strongly it seemed she hadn't lost her vigor. At least not all of it.
"I heard Bonebreaker sent you here, that fool. What did you do?" She looked me in the eyes, but I couldn't return her stare. I couldn't look at her at all, so I kept my eyes on the ground.
"I disobeyed orders, Mistress. Attacked out of time, led to a premature battle that almost cost us the mission. And I broke the oath of the Moon. I ate the flesh of our own."
"Ever the unchained beast, my child." Her voice was seething with anger, and her grip was strong as iron. "But I'm not here to judge you, that has been done already. What I'm here to do is to offer you redemption. Not just for you, but for you band of misfits too."
That would have hurt had it not come from her. Fireheart knew us, all of us, because she was a cahalith as well. All the history of our Lodge, all our names, all our successes and failures were of her knowledge. Her voice, as weak as it was, resonated with truth.
"What is this redemption, mistress?"
"The Amazonian Gauntlet."
We all let out a surprised "Whoa". The Amazonian Gauntlet was the greatest failure of our Lodge history. Our Little Bighorn, or our Midway, if we were the Japanese. What I mean by saying that is that the Gauntlet was lost not because our enemy was superior, but because we fucked up. Bigtime.
Now, if you know anything about the Amazonian rainforest you know that it is big, and it's full of biodiversity. Biodiversity also means spirits, active ones, roaming free and wild. I heard some elders say the Amazon is the closest to Pangea we'll ever have in this forsaken world. That's why the Pure love it so much.
The place is crawling with them, rooted in both the native tribes and illegal lumberjacks and drug smugglers that call the place home. Both in and out of the spirit world, the Amazon is a paradise shrouded in myth, death and corruption. So of course one of our high commanders had to have the brilliant idea of taking the Amazonian Gauntlet back from the Pure. I don't even need to say it was a bad idea.
His plan was a bold one, a massive attack from four different directions, launching surprise ambushes on the Ivory Claws' breeding grounds first, then consolidating and pushing further into the Predator Kings hunting grounds, all the while culling any Fire Touched we came across. I say 'we' because I'm part of the Lodge, but I only deployed to the Gauntlet to rescue stranded packs, and that was after most of the mess had already happened.
That was actually the first mistake of the bloke who came up with the whole thing. Neither the Sergeant, nor Mistress Fireheart, or Masters Tremor and Clawripper were allowed to deploy to the Gauntlet. I heard Master Clawripper even called bullshit on it and deployed anyway. His prong was the only one to come out without casualties from the fight. They still failed their mission, because the other prongs broke and they had to fall back or be cut off.
Second mistake: pushing too hard. The idiot commanding it believed our superior weapons and gear would allow us to win fights quickly and without any casualties. He forgot to factor in the Pure had both the home field advantage, and spirits backing them up. So the prongs dived in too deep, especially the scouting parties, who all got caught and either killed and sacrificed or defected to the Fire Touched. I almost defected to them once, they're scarily good at convincing you of stuff, and it's not like all those scouting parties where composed of Lodge newcomers who had little faith in the commander who sent them to death, right?
The third, and worst, mistake was commitment. Blood Talons offer no surrender they would not accept. And the moron running the show would accept no surrender at all. So he sent in the attack parties with little intelligence, zero support and even forgot to trace secondary supply and evacuation routes, because the primary ones got overrun so fast it looked like a zombie apocalypse.
When we deployed to the gauntlet, the battle was lost and the Lodge forces were on retreat. I was there when Fireheart and the Sarge led a charge against a prisoner camp so we could rescue some of our own. Most of the guys we rescued left the Lodge anyway, and I can't blame them. The Gauntlet left us undermanned, dangerously close to extinction, actually. I'd say about five hundred werewolves died, and other two hundred and something defected to the Pure, that number includes some high ranking members who got disillusioned with the stupidity of the Lodge. Oh, and the bloke who ordered it? Died in battle, only one member of his pack survived. She was found weeks after the battle had been officially lost, hiding in a cave, surrounded by dead bodies, both ours and the enemy's. Her name: Ryoko Shibata. No wonder she wanted to find the 'right' pack this time.
Of course, that brings us to the now. The Gauntlet is still owned by the Pure, but Master Clawripper has dedicated himself to avenging the ones who fell in battle, and finding the cowards who defected and kill them all. It's a long campaign, a war that's been raging secretly for two or three years now. But, ironically, the Lodge of the Jungles has a shortage of warriors adept at jungle fighting, so it's been a slow movement for us.
"I will not lie to one of Bonebreaker's protégés. We are desperate." Mistress Fireheart's voice sounded so tired it was almost painful. "We don't have the manpower to continue operating in the Gauntlet, but if we retreat now our morale is going to tank. We need a victory, an astounding one to show both our enemies and our allies that we can still fight!"
Ever the motivational speaker. Even weakened she still managed to send a spark to my heart, and I doubt I was the only one feeling that way.
"But what can five younglings like us do, Mistress? We are undisciplined and unprepared."
She laughed an riotous, cacophonic laugh that quickly turned to a coughing fit. Juri had to gently hold her in place so she wouldn't fall off the wheelchair:
"Are you not Snake Eyes, killer of wolves, eater of her own kin? Is that one not Four Fangs, oppressor of spirits, the one who forced a being of wrath into her own self to bolster her strengths? And the other, Ryoko Shibata, daughter of the Pure, killer of many, unbroken and unbowed survivor of catastrophes?"
I had to ask them later what the hell was the old woman talking about. Looks like my pack was still leaving me out of the loop.
"And Sound of Thunder, strikes like lighting, Luna's silver champion? And finally, Night's Voice, eternally mocking those who would subdue her, forever a thorn on enemies and allies alike. You, children, are strong because of your failings. Were you not together, not bound to each other as a pack, you would be useless. But put together, the five of you, you could become the greatest weapon our Lodge could wield. Our furies, our assassins, our silver knifes always in the back of our enemies."
Even with her withered and weakened voice, mistress Fireheart hadn't lost her touch. We were spurred, ready to fight, ready to accept her task, whatever it was. I called it, as it was my duty as leader:
"And what, or better saying, who is our target, mistress?"
"We found one of the traitors who defected to the enemy, hiding in a Yanomami village that the Ivory Claws use as breeding ground. Juri has the details. You are to infiltrate the place, kill him, and rip any other werewolf you might come across to shreds. We'll supply the gear, including some new toys Tremor and his forge boys have cooked up. You just have to say yes."
I took a quick look at my pack mates. All resolute, all ready to take this role as assassins and murderers of our own kind. Someone had to do it.
"We accept this task, ma'am."
She let out a long, labored sigh, and finally released my hand from her iron grip.
"Thank you, my child. If I could, I would stay and discuss the details of the mission with you, but I can't. I need to rest and gather my strengths to travel back to São Paulo. Farewell for now, children."
Subtlety wheeled her out of the room while everyone else stood silent. Then we gathered with Juri to discuss the details of our first official assignment. I can't write any of it here, but it's high profile assassination, yeah. Cloak and dagger, my kind of business. And of course, like Voice usually says "We're getting off this joint".
Now all I have to do is finish that necklace and my day will be perfect.