Morning finally broke over the small town, and with it were the rest of the citizens. More of a half-way town for those who had been infected, it wasn't populous in the least. It hadn't always been like that, Brinella knew. She knew the houses here just as easily as she knew every building of the main city, but all of that was left to linger in the past. Sometime in the night, someone had snuck up into her room to lay out new clothes, and the woman was pleased to find they fit well around her new body.
The white shirt was a little bit of trouble, the long sleeves catching on her claws with each attempt to fit her hand through the narrow cuff. It didn't take long for her to look around the room guiltily, an innocent whistle within her mind as she tore the sleeves from the main body, and wriggled herself into it. It was easier to lace it, using her claws a bit like sewing needles to feed the string through the holes. The brown leather vest was just as easy, and felt like butter against her rough paw. She could not resist rubbing it against a furry cheek, memories of her father sparking in her mind.
He had always been so good to them, her father. A farmer his entire life, he had known the land like no one else she knew. It was he who taught her how to respect the soil, the trees, and even the animals. Gregory De'vrail loved his children, and when their mother passed, he showed it even more. Her heart broke to think about how his life had ended, at the mercy of her... she pushed the thought from her mind. At least she knew what had happened. At least it had been her, and not someone else. That was easier to accept, even if it was painful.
With a snort, Brinella worked her way into the pants. If the shirt had been vexing, then the leggings were downright cruel. The woman wavered, direly wishing she had a tail to balance herself, only to teeter and then fall on her rear, a whimper leaving her. No, a tail would have been far too painful to have sat on, and trying to tailor garments around that...
After the third fall, she had managed to pull the loose leggings up and tie them when Adeline's voice sounded from the other side of the door. "You're putting the pants on, aren't you? Try sitting down, and pulling them up that way." The wood creaked as the heavy door swung open, her lips pulled into a grin that seemed quite odd on her canine features.
Her fur was oddly white, with grey markings around her eyes. Unlike Brinella's own golden irises, she had remained with the ice blue color she had been birthed with. The golden hair she cared for had dulled to a grey, and she shrugged under Brinella's scrutiny. "You're a redhead, but have brown fur. Don't ask me."
"Actually, I was going to ask about the outfit..." Brinella gestured to Adeline's simple dress, even if the cut was a bit daring.
Once more the woman shrugged. "I like dresses better. I always have. I figured you'd be alright with your leathers. Do they fit alright?" She stepped forward, poking lightly at the cloth covering her friend. "It was a little hard trying to find spares for your size. It's one thing to be a big girl, it's another to be so..." Her head tilted. "Gangly? I don't know, Brin. We'll need to get you some food, and decent things while you're here."
"About that..." Brinella watched the smaller worgen bustle around the room, tidying it far better than Brin had cared to herself. "I'm not going to stay long. I can't. This... it's odd for me, Addy. Really odd. I don't like it, and I can barely accept it. I think it would be better for me to go, and find my brother." Her hand lifted to scratch at the back of her head, looking guilty.
Brinella paused for a few moments, seeming sad. "I know..." Her voice was quiet, and she looked up at the other with a sheen of tears in her eyes. "I had hoped you might stay with me, but I also knew that would be silly. We've been best friends since forever... I guess I thought -" Her head shook, a soft laugh leaving her. "No, you're right. I've always been content to stay here, have babies, grow old. I can't do that now, but you can still see the world like you wanted. If the worgen got into Gilneas, got past the wall... well, there's no reason to think you couldn't go out it, too."
"You make it sound like Clyde and Cor aren't here anymore." Brinella's eyes narrowed as she accepted the dirty linens Adeline piled into her arms. "In fact, you seem very sure of that."
"Because they aren't." Addy picked up the shredded scraps of cloth that had once been sleeves, tossing them over her shoulders as she left the room with Brinella in tow. "It bugged me a bit, how I hadn't caught either of them anywhere. While you slept, I went out for a run. The entire pack they ran with, or at least were rumored to, is gone. The worgen are leaving Gilneas, getting out somehow. I think, maybe, that they left as well." The click of nails on the wooden floor was all the sound there was for a few moments. "I wasn't feral long, not like you were, but when I was, I felt like that old keep was calling to me. You know the one, we practically grew up hearing the horror stories. Funny how now we've become the horror stories – put them here."
Together they piled the clothes and linens into the box Adeline gestured to, the smaller girl flopping over it with a rough giggle before it was taken away by a rather frail looking child. The two watched her leave before Adeline guided Brinella out, the taller of the two blinking in the hazy morning. Despite the noise Brinella had heard since the first rays had touched the buildings, she was surprised to see there were truly not many awake. Adeline simply grinned as her friend gawked, cocking her head slightly and grabbing her wrist to drag her along behind her.
"You expected more? Don't forget our hearing is better, now." They weaved between posts and jumped over gates, Adeline sweeping aside clothes on lines that fell back to smack her friend in the face. If she was aware of this fact, it didn't stop her. She did not cease her pulling until they had approached a small store set in a back alley, and Brinella found her wrist released while her friend knocked on the door.
Her attention went elsewhere when the door was answered, using her improved sight to watch a spider weave an intricate web, and then drop to a wilting rose beneath it and rest. Brinella frowned, a delicate touch given to a rose petal. "Mother loved roses..." What harm would there be in helping it grow a little? Her eyes glanced briefly to her friend, and then back down the alley. Convinced no one was watching, she focused on the rose beneath her claws.
Brinella never understood what she was doing, even when younger. Her parents had always told her that she had a gift, but Brinella grew up to think she just had an overactive imagination. Like wishing her dogs could speak to her, urging a dying plant into becoming healthy was just something that had always been there. It had dimmed as she had grown older; she had stopped seeing the world as if it were a living, speaking thing, but there was always that strange bond. Like a friend who had gone away, the presence and familiarity was still there.
So calling it back was easy. When her father's crops wilted, Brinella would spend hours coaxing and singing to plants that would be twice as tall when she woke the next morning. The fox her dogs had frightened beneath the house would answer only to her, and it seemed he had understood her. Even her mother's crow, Blackwing, had an affinity for the girl as she grew. Her parents called it a gift, she called it imagination. Whatever it was, watching the rich red return to the wilting petals made her heart swell with emotion. "There. For you, Momma." As her claw pulled away, the rose stood tall, and its health spread to the next, and the next, until the entire window was filled with scarlet and green.
"They're beautiful, Brin." Adeline's voice held a wonder-filled smile, and Brinella shook her head to clear the fog that had come along. "Nothing really grows long, here. It's like the flowers are scared, just as much as we are. Maybe these will stay, and show everyone there is hope." Her head turned, looking to the male worgen holding out a basket to her. "What do you think, Mr. Avery?"
"I think you should take her to see the ol' earth-witch." A long finger came up to scratch gently just below his eye, the grey fur holding none of the luster that she had seen some carry. "A talent like that has some use here, and if not here, then other places. You can find her out at one of the farms, if you care to go look." His eyes narrowed slightly, seeming to darken beneath his massive brows. "Why don't you take these back to the inn-keep quick, Addy? I'd like a talk with Brinella."
"Sure!" The white-furred woman moved by swiftly, leaving Brinella with the old man. "I'll be back in a bit, Brin. Don't wander off, there's bad things about!"
"Come in, Brinella. There's a chill here, even despite our fur." The male backed away from the door, his claws clicking lightly on the wooden floor as he moved. It was an ominous sound, for her. Her head hung, the young woman darted past Mr. Avery, settling herself in front of the fire. "Just like when you were little, hmm? The missus always did like braiding your hair in front of the fire." His tone was a gentle one, and she pulled her knees to her chest while he spoke.
"Our families were always close, even when young." She listened to the click of his movements more than his words, but he knew she was listening regardless. "I've watched you grow up as much as one can, not bein' full blood kin and all. But you were always here if Gregory and Tilla had to go somewhere, and since we had no young of our own, I suppose you and Clyde were the best we got." He laughed, that rough laugh that seemed to be all that was managed for what they now were. "Precious little things, you and your brother. But I didn't keep you here to tell you about the past."
There was a grinding sound, something being dragged slowly. Brinella looked up, and then made to stand, not wanting to watch the older male struggle with the heavy chest. It was an old thing, carefully crafted to withstand time more than beauty. "I never thought I'd be doing this, taking this chest out. Your father gave me and the missus things to keep for you. Tilla's death... well, he never really recovered. He loved your mother so dearly, and some things were just too hard for him. I don't think he ever forgave himself for failing to get her what she needed." With some difficulty, he lifted the lid, and they both sneezed as dust billowed up.
"I'm keeping you here for the future, Brinella. Grab that satchel, there." His clawed hand pointed out a thick leather bag, and she took it from its hook on the wall to open it as he slowly lifted things out. "Listen to me, and listen well. Things here are not what they should be, and they never will again. There will be few Gilnean who can say they do not have this curse. We are a changed race, human and yet not. This is forever in our blood. If we breed, I have no doubts that we will only pass on this curse, assuming we can breed at all."
As he spoke, he took items from the chest. Brinella recognized the leathers as the ones her mother used to wear, and the small jewelry box her father had made as a birthday gift for Tilla one year. "However, there is a pack out there, smarter than the other ones. I want you to find them. I want you to join them if you can, and find a way to live. Adeline would have you stay here, but she is too afraid to see the world like you are." Mr. Avery chuckled. "Not, my dear, that you have ever shown fear."
"You know I'm not staying, don't you?" Brinella watched him place item after item in the bag; vials of red and blue liquid, dried flowers, empty vials, food and drink... it seemed the bag would never stop filling.
"Of course. Your brother had the same sort of wanderlust. I don't believe he, or your fiance, are with this pack. But they... they might be able to help you where we cannot. There are many families that have been parted and destroyed with this curse. I only hope that you will find yours, and if not yours... then some semblance of one." He smiled, tying the bag tightly closed and handing it over. She took it, marveling at how her body barely seemed to feel the weight at all. "Your mother and father raised you right. Remember that, and make sure everyone knows the De'vrail name is strong."
Mr. Avery chuckled, turning back to the fire and taking a small box down from the mantle there. "Before Amelia passed, she wanted me to give this to you. You always had a special bond with her, and I thank you for the care you gave in her final months." Despite his sad tone, Brinella could hear the love aimed for both his passed wife and for the girl he now looked to. With care, she opened the small box, blinking.
Inside were golden coins, carefully stacked and rolled. Three small gems accompanied them, and a clear crystal was tucked into the side. Beneath it, a silver necklace lay coiled, the chain fine and joined with two others. A small pendant hung from it, holding a stone that glimmered blue in the firelight. "I can't..." Her voice was choked, her head shaken. "These are yours."
"No. They were yours the moment Amelia said they were to be given to you. The gold, though. That is a gift from both of us. It was to be shared with you and your fiance when you married, but..." He grinned, reaching out to gently ruffle her mane as she closed the box, swallowing back tears. "Perhaps there will still be time for that, if you find him." Mr. Avery straightened, pulling himself nearly a foot above Brinella's already tall and lanky form. "Now, I meant what I said. You find that pack, or your father will have my hide when I meet him in the afterlife. Never did get a chance to get him back for besting me on the field."
Brinella nodded, tucking the bag tight against her chest as, turning to leave. "I will, I promise." She left then, not knowing what else to say. Her steps were not slow, she all but fled the house, and she winced and tried hard to ignore the sharp gunfire that sounded behind her, muffled only by the wood of the door and walls.