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Werewolves (RP13.2) Many Decisions: Secrets

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A certain gravity came over the Alpha's features as he frowned.

"No," he said, "You will not."

Kratos got off the line and pulled the mantle from the trees. He draped it over his bare shoulders and swung it around that it covered his chest and one shoulder twice. It neither hung on the ground at his ankles, nor appeared too greatly bunched around his neck.

"I agree, he should not be here. " Kratos said, looking down at the young man who lay at the foot of the tree. "He is newly werewolf, and not yet changed enough to bear this climate. He is Sabrina's charge, and in as much as she has confined him to bed rest he should be returned to the dens. I have never seen a more feeble individual survive the change."

The Alpha breathed deeply and looked at Logan gravely.
"It is unwise," he said, "As the others shall soon learn, to go against our nature and go singly into the world. The power we have to change another with our very DNA attests that the creature cannot survive alone. Now, take the boy back to the den. The weakest members of our pack did not return last night, and though it is possible they were claimed by the mountain, I feel certain they are yet alive and will need our help. We will overtake Timothy and Ulric in route. Ulric is not fully recovered and does not have possession of his secondary form at this time, he will be easy to track and will not have gone far."

Kratos turned, and looked across the rapid stream, up the sloping landscape among the trees.
"We will have to tread carefully. I have a keen guess that our sense of smell shall be useless to us; even if it is only for today, today the mountain is our enemy, and the enemy of all werewolves..."

"Take him."

Logan said nothing in response. She picked the boy up, this time carrying him like a child, and brought him to the First Cabin, and up the stairs to what could only be Sabrina's room. She had never seen it inside-the choice of decor was certainly different compared to the lack of decor in the other rooms. It had it's own style, but Logan didn't consider it for more than a fleeting moment.

The boy was laid on the bed, and Logan pulled the sheets and blankets over his frail body, propping his head up on a pillow. Then she crossed the room and cracked the curtain so the light filtered in opposite of the bed - so it wouldn't disturb the strangers sleep, but should he awake, he would have some concept of the time of day at least. And with that, she stepped out of the room, then moved down the hall to her own room..

Logan returned from the cabin a few minutes later. She was wearing pants, her heavy flannel shirt suited for a lumberjack possibly twice her size, and her backpack. She had taken a few things from inside the cabin before she left, among them a matchbook, a bottle of oil, and some towels she had found in the kitchen in which she wrapped everything. After retrieving her knife-made-spear, she found Kratos, her gaze indicating she was ready.

Kratos followed Logan into the main cabin and watched her quietly as she tucked the small stranger into bed. When the deed was done, she left the room and Kratos watched her go into her own. The door closed behind her. Then Kratos stepped into the room and began about a different arrangement. He picked up the young Asian boy, blanket, sheet and all, and carried him into the next room. This room was not occupied, and did not have a window as Logan had so carefully situated. The boy was laid on the bed, his immediate needs provided, and the door was left slightly ajar to allow light to filter through from the hallway.

Kratos left the room, and as Logan gathered her materials, he redressed Sabrina's bed in fresh linen. The windows and doors to all the other rooms were closed tightly before the Alpha left the cabin. He met Logan as she came out, his own wardrobe unchanged from when last she saw him.

"Logan," he said. "Though well intentioned, you should remember in the future to respect a dominant werewolf's personal territory. Even given her charge over him, I doubt Sabrina would welcome him among her private belongings. His scent in her room will be unwelcome enough."

"I am hesitant to leave him here unaccompanied, but I have no hands to spare. If something should come of it, Sabrina must be accountable for her discharge over him. Let us go."

 

Logan made no comment about where she placed Saber-she only placed him where his scent was already most prominent, and she had assumed he would remain there, but since the Alpha felt differently, she wouldn't argue it. She took the brief lesson quietly and with a grain of salt, glancing back at the cabins.

It wasn't an ideal situation, leaving a young, vulnerable and newly changed werewolf behind- but her instinct was to care for those who she knew, and their current situation, should they be alive, was perhaps far more dire. She recalled the biting waters that carved their way across the cliff sides, the way Ulric was nearly frozen and dead upon their finding him, and the creatures they had encountered, all within a night on the Phantom Mountains face.

Kratos' words further relieved her of her duty towards the young boy and she readily followed the Alpha.

And so it was the stranger of the Calagathorm pack was left alone at the cabins, not to stir for some time...

It had only been an hour, and the wet in the air had soaked Ulric's clothes quite through. A low gliding cloud  crawled down the mountain, trailing last night's storm as one of the last in the line of its brigade. Its thick white form moved down around the trees as Ulric walked up among them. His feet sunk deep into the mud with each step. His hands were solidly cold, and his cheeks were flushed. Being worn still from the trials of the night, his body was slow and stiff.

Timothy continued to lead the way. As Ulric followed around tree branches, dense foliage, and great boulders, the black wolf would sometimes pause and wait for him to catch up. The constant steady guidance made Ulric feel, at times, as if he were truly in the presence of a friend, one that cared for his safety and companionship. But Timothy never once uttered a word to him. He was like a wild dog, leading the way but never fully allowing him to catch up.

Ulric climbed higher and found with each step the mountain seemed to be pushing him back. He felt his feet slide back in the mud, and struggled with the incline which now raised the wet earth well over his knees. Ulric imagined that, if it had a voice, the mountain would be saying to him, "Turn back! You don't want what is waiting for you!" But Ulric went on regardless. It was in his heart to discover what became of Mercy and her child, and to help her, even if he should die.

It was after a short time, when the ground began to even out somewhat, that Ulric stopped. Timothy paused to wait for him, as he would a little higher up, and turned to look back. Unlike at other times when Ulric stopped to catch his breath, he left Timothy waiting. He was bent over his knees, breathing heavily. That was when Ulric began to notice the beauty that surrounded him.

After spending three months in the mountains with the werewolves, Ulric's city-bound soul was disenchanted with nature. When it was new, and he was not so much a part of it, he felt that it was all he could do to drink it in. But as the weeks progressed, and Ulric was taught by his brother how to live and get along without a store, or a bath, or a fire, he came to see nature as another tiresome fact of life. Only now, as he was nearing the middle of his depleted strength, and only half caring if Timothy waited for him or not, did Ulric notice how different Phantom Mountain was from its towering neighbors.

For most of the summer, Kratos led the pack across the mountain terrain of Mount Panorama, across unmarked country without regard to the fences and perimeters of mankind. Sometimes, they would diverge out of the woods near the road that ran out Middlecrest, but never completely, and never at day. Ulric had been lost most of the time, unaware which direction was north and which was south. He was only ever able to note his bearings when he spied a mile marker, or some other human landmark.

During those summer months, Ulric had noted the plant and animal life he came across. Most of the forest on Panorama was composed of pine trees, wild firs and other conifers. Prey was easy to spy and easier to chase. And there was always some open country through which one might see a grand scope of the south-western hills.

On Phantom Mountain, no space existed between one tree to the other, or from the roots of the trees to the lowest branches, that was not filled with dense woody foliage. To go in any direction, one would always have to wrestle with a variety of bushes that were tangled and knotted together. Sighting pray was difficult, and chasing it was near impossible.

Yet, Ulric now realized, as he reached a large jutting platform with a good overview of Reknab Bend, that he hadn't fought through a single bush in the hour he'd climbed. That was when he stopped to look around and found that Timothy had led him up an unmarked and well trodden path. And swaying all around him, as if they were heads bobbing on a string, were countless white blossoms with blue faces.

This was not the first time Timothy had used the paths. Ulric recalled the night Timothy led him over the river and found Toby. On another occasion, Ulric had found one path while searching for Jackie and Logan behind Zeit's cabin. Such a path had proved a lucky convenience to cut through the dense foliage in a hurry. There must be dozens of paths interweaving across the whole mountain, thought Ulric. But there was no good knowing it, for such a path was entirely concealed visually, and invisible to the werewolves in another way, - for nothing that passed on it could be tracked by scent.

It dawned on Ulric, then, as he looked around at the bobbling plants, and slowly fixed his eyes on the placid expression of the Wolf waiting on the rocks above him, that Timothy was the only one aware of and able to navigate the strange paths.

Kratos picked up Ulric's trail at the bridge and followed his wet tracks in the woods. As predicted, scent was immediately void. To senses as keen as a werewolf, and to the mind of one trained to discern all smells, it was as if the world became suddenly tasteless; as if all flavors were made of wax, and light lost its color. The Alpha was undeterred. He came into the noisy woodland, full of sounds of rushing water high and low on the mountain, and stayed behind the deep prints left in the mud.

It was uncertain whether or not the other members of the pack might be found on the same trail. After a night in the freezing cold rain and snow, the fate of the youngest pack members was entirely unknown. Yet as long as there was the slightest chance that they had survived, Kratos would be out looking for them. If some higher power favored them, it might be that he would find them, safe and somehow well in all this chaos, and then he might turn his attention south to the gathering of his scattered pack before nightfall.

Logan followed slowly, albeit steadily. She, no doubt like the others, could feel the toll of the previous night in her bones. It wasn't a deterrent, but it urged her to conserve her energy. At a slower pace she could face the mountain endlessly, even in her human form which she currently possessed. Her pants were tied up at the knee and she used the staff to navigate the ground beneath the thick mud, always keeping her head up.

She noticed quickly when her sense of smell was gone. She tried to ignore it and more keenly apply her other senses. It wasn't like having a cold, and having your head congested so you couldn't smell or hear anything-she had her other faculties. Regardless of that, it seemed the world became one dimensional. One tree was the same as the next, when each used to be a different marker for scents-whether a squirrel resided there or a bobcat had come through. Sound was already dampened by the thick wet earth that surrounded them, and the heavy muted feeling was in and of itself overwhelming.

With a defeated sigh she put the staff through a loop on the backpack and tiredly changed forms. A nights rest had offered little reprieve from the heaviness that pulsed through her veins and bones. Once transformed, she heaved a couple of deep breathes and fell down heavy on her front legs, then galloped forward in a clumsy stride until she caught up with the Alpha and her shoulder brushed his side. Then her dusty eyes set forward on the path ahead of them.

The Alpha's heavy black paws sunk well into the earth with each step along the muddy path. His shoulders gently swayed from one side to the other. For the most part, he traveled with his head up and his yellow eyes narrowed on the forest floor, with his ears occasional rotating a degree here or there. The sound of flowing water filled the forest with constant white noise, changed only by the rustling of branches in a passing wind.

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