rk MN P_MftV

rk MN ;P_M..f~tV

But you already know all these things, or else you would not have sought this old wolfs fire, yes? You honor me. May I honor you in return with stories of the dogs that nip at the heels of our tribe. Listen: rk 54/P$/P,/ P/C'.r#lfi!

It is ... hard to discuss this issue without speaking ill of a rightly respected elder such as True Silverheels, but ...

But the call to abolish the camps is a mistake. In my eyes, and in the eyes of others. You think I mean those who held renown and power within those camps and now stand to lose it? No. I mean those who look within ourselves, and accept what we find there.

We are part wolf, we Garou. And wolves are territorial. And we are part human. And humans are territorial. We are even as much spirit as flesh. And spirits are territorial. We can no more give up the idea that borders and factions-and packs-are important to us than a goose can give up the idea that it must warm itself in the south come wintertime.

True Silverheels, praise and bless his name and his noble brow, thinks too much like a human. He believes that his intellect can overcome his instincts - and perhaps in his case it can. But to expect all other Children of Gaia to be able to do the same simply because it is asked of them?To expect it to be the right thing to do, to deny what we are in the name of Unicorn's ideal?

There, you see ?I disagree most strongly. Many others do the same. And we ... and we fight over whether we should give up these territories, these packs-of-packs, or not. We fight, though none have yet died for one side or another. By calling for an end to the borders and families that are so dear to our instincts, True Silverheels and his supporters have thrown another border between us.

I have said too much on this already, I think. rk MN ;P_M..f~tV We consider ourselves the healers of the tribes, and so we pride ourselves on knowing most about the diseases that afflict our Kin and ourselves. We were quick to discover that the AIDS-killer spread from one mate to another, and thus we could warn our Kin and ourselves.

Some did not listen, of course; the drive to procreate for the sake of enjoyment fills us, particularly the hom ids. But we knew, almost sooner than the humans did, and our homids became very involved in the struggle to cure the sickness. No, not simply for self-preservation; even I am not that bitter. No, from compassion as well as selfinterest. Even today, they fight the disease.

But . .. there may be more. The AIDS-ki ller is, I believe, only the first wave. Just as AIDS crept into American society and began killing people in earnest long before it came into the greater public's awareness, other diseases are now beginning to take hold without anyonebecomingthewiser. New York. Cairo. Calcutta.

London. Johannesburg. Rio de Janeiro. Each of these cities has seen an outbreak of some new disease, some epidemic that is-sofarlimiting itself to a small but unmourned portion of the human population.

Some say that Mother Gaia is the one crafting these sicknesses, trying to reduce the humans to a tolerable level once more. I say that is untrue, for we are Mother Gaia's fangs, and such would be our duty. No, I and those I speak with look at the patterns and we see a deliberate hand - but not the Mother's.

It is as if someone is using these cities as ... I forget the word. The dishes thar - yes. Thank you. Petri dishes. It is as if these cities are petri dishes where some person, or thing, or group is cultivating and experimenting with new sicknes&es. O r perhaps - if the old wolf may speak with a harsh tonguethe cultivation and experiments are done, and the plagues have been unleashed already. Whoever bred them is now waiting to see how much damage they can doperhaps before the next batch is released.

So. If you value the humans-and we all do-you must take this warning seriously. Many of us are already in the cities, working among the infected to heal and to prevent. But there are not enough to both cure and seek out those who may be deliberately unleashing these diseases. It is an effort that you may wish to join, I think. If someone is truly trying to kill as many humans as possible with sickness, then all the old stories about the horrors of the lmpergium will seem as humorous fireside tales should it come to pass. .Rt?f~P x~kt Hrrr. Some of you are not old enough to remember the fear of nuclear fire. It was the most horrifying thing that they explained to me after my Change. For decades, it was all humans could think of; the threat of an Enemy pressing a button, as easily as opening an elevator, and killing the world. Oh, the tribe remembers these days; they sing tales of those who argued and protested for the governments to take apart their bombs, and they say that eventually they won. The Cold War is over now. The threat is ended.

No. Did these bombs simply vanish? Did the circuitry evaporate, the plutonium turn to lead, the arming systems transform mto home appliances?They did not. Of course many still sit in their wasp-tunnels, still connected to the same buttons that did not go away, just in case a petty man in power needs to kill a continent. Others, though .... Others have been taken apart, and sold.

Yes, sold. Because the people who used to have them needed bread, or drink, or luxuries. Because the people who wanted them had money, and the same sick desire that made people build these things in the first place. Some are now in the hands of evil men.

Some are in the hands of organized criminals who look for the most profitable buyer. And some are surely in the hands of the Enemy.

No greater nightmare exists. These bombs, this fireit is out there, waiting to be used. From what we see of the world, we know that there will be those willing to use them. And how can we fight with protests? Whose embassy shall we march on? No. This is a thing of the shadows, and in the shadows we must go. All tribes rightly fear these things being used, but none more than usthese weapons were our greatest enemy for most of our elders' lives, and now we do not know where they have all gone. But we must find them, or soon the entire world will feel the pain the East did in June of 1999. 7'#P .;.{>41/'Y'pq _hr,:n:/ Ah. I see some of you know the date. Some were sensitive enough to the Mother's pain to feel Her agony as Her skin blistered and peeled, over in the East, at the center of an "unexpected" hurricane.

Others heard of it second-hand, third-hand. And as the story was passed on and repeated, it grew no less horrific. Someone - somethinghad used a spiritual weapon, the likes of which we had never before seen, in the heart of Bangladesh. 1 have heard it likened to a nuclear weapon. The destruction, some say, was the sameonly that it fell on the other side of the Gauntlet, and blasted the Penumbra to glass. So the humans do not know what happened, and they cannot see the poisons that seep from the other side of the Gauntlet into the physical world. But we know, of course. We know that the spirit and the material are closely linked, one to the other. Just as poison that seeps into the earth will poison the Umbra in tum, so too does the damage to the spirit world kill the potential of this land. Someone has committed a grave atrocity against the world, and for what purpose? Who could even harness such power? And what madness drove them to think they could be safe from such a thing?

So. We send Raga bash to unearth what knowledge they can, to hopefully discover the culprits. We send Theurges to heal the land as best they can. We send Philodox to question the surviving spirits. We send Galliards to coordinate all we learn. And when we find who did such a thing, we will send Ahroun - we must, or we will prove ourselves a toothless, useless thing that can only show its belly to the Mother's enemies in hopes that they will scratch us rather than gut us.

We have no time left. We must act.

Who is this Unicorn but the only-begotten Son of God?

-Saint Ambrose 4 /lljV "So what are these "camps" 1 keep hearing about?

Are they like political parties, or what?" Ringer sat with Amanda and the others listening to a folksinger.

The guy sucked, but it wasn't polite to let him know, no matter how much Ringer would have liked to put the guitar out of its misery by smashing it over its owner's skull.

"Not really. They're just factions within the tribe.

All tribes have them, from what I hear, to some degree; some are geographical, but most are ideological. A ll of ours wereare, stillbased on ideology, even if they aren't as important as they used to be, since True Silverheels called for an end to them. I mean, they all share Unicorn's ideal for peace. They just have different ideas about how to get it. tJhdhtJk;/dr/ O,HV "Now, these guys were the real peaceniks. Worse,"

Amanda shifted in her chair, "than )one will ever be.

Renounced all violence, and refused to compromise on the issue. The trouble with that was-"

"The War of the Apocalypse." Rich's human face was grim. Ringer wondered for a moment how the metis' human shape could hold so much Rage. He had been in the War since before he was even conceived.

"Right. Like it or not, Gaia made u so we could fight, and totally swearing off war is about as natural as asking a hawk to get everywhere by walking. The Anointed were real sages. They taught us Gifts and rites to help with Rage ... we owe them a lot. But when a Black Spiral hell-horde comes knocking, nonviolence doesn't help much. No one would let them join multi-tribal packs; l mean, if you know someone isn't going to bare fangs against a Spiral that has your throat in its jaws, you don't want them for a packmate. Save for a few that still hang out in the heart of some allChildren septs, they're all gone. Least, far a 1 know." ]one looked sad. "But ... that doesn't mean that nonviolence doesn't work, doesn't really work sometimes. Look at the Angels in the Garden. They worked to rescue abused children from this cult called the Seventh Generation. l know two of the kids they saved; we brought them within the Veil and they are Kinfolk now. They won, in a way; the warriors of other tribes cut out the heart of the Seventh Generation, and they focused on the healing and protection of the innocents. Good for them!

"Look, maybe it doesn't always happen. Maybe it's rare, rare as ... the flowering of the bamboo. Maybe you can work all your life and live all your life and die and never ... see it happen, see it be real. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try. You have to." )one was earnest.

Ringer's skin crawled, even as sun warmed him through a gap in the trees. He thought of the sky-watchers that waited and waited for the millennia! returns of comets, of the building of cathedrals over centuries. Was peace that rare? It was that precious, surely. A cloud passed and they enjoyed the short pause in the hot sun. The weather had gotten really nasty.

"Peace might come only after the Apocalypse, yeah. Or sooner. Yeah ... the Angels worked hard for peace, )one, and they're mostly dead too after that gang of child fomori got in with those lick-on tattoos. The Seventh Gens are gone, but not thanks to us chanting or burning incense. But the Angels disbanded after that. Partly 'cause their main enemy was gone, partly thanks to True's call for unification. Some of them hooked up with another group, though; one that doesn't call itself a camp, but merits the word." .lk6r.t 17/ffid hv/ 77-/k Amanda looked at the screen and laughed. "You're a Seeker, )one? I knew you were into weird stuff like UFOs, but this is just over the tOp!"

"I just do their web pages!" )one protested. "Anyway, it's a harmless little hobby."

"Tell that to the ones ripped apart by Black Spirals."

Ringer leaned over Amanda and joined her in looking at the computer screen. "Who are the Seekers?"

"Suicidal nutballs." )one took off her shoes and crossed her legs in the chair. "Hey!" She pointed t:O some information on her screen. "Legend has it, Ringer, that the Garou can win if they can unite all the tribes. Considering the state of the Bunyip, Croatan, and White Howlers, this is a little difficult. The Seekers, or Seekers of the Lost Tribes, are trying to make this legend a reality."

"You are nutballs."

"Are we?" )one began to quickly click through links, highlighting pictures and text. "Where there's Kin, there's hope. While there are no more Bun yip left, a group of Seekers believes they've found some survi ving Kin in northern Australia. Of course, this wouldn't be the first time they've thought that." Maps of the Torres Strait filled the screen until Jone clicked again.

"Here in America, we've documented several cases of 'spirit wolf sightings that match what we know of the Croatan lupus. In fact ... " ]one pulled up a picture on the web page of a half-visible object in a forest that resembled a wolf. "Here's some photographic evidence. In addition, we're getting real close to tracing the actual bloodline of the Croatan in several surviving native genealogies; there are some Creek and Catawba families that might have the Old Blood."

Ringer looked hard at the picture on the screen, which was furry and blurry. "Are you huntingGarou or Bigfoot?" Straightening up, he announced, "It's crazy.

And what about the White Howlers? They're about as lost as a cause can get." ]one smiled. "Well, Ringer, we just try to rescue Black Spiral cubs. Or keep their Ron in alive. And if we can't keep one with us, maybe a half will do." She waited for it to dawn on him what she was saying. "So, you wanna give up on Rich? Or would you rather become an honorary member ?"

"Uh, I guess ... if what he says is true, then we're all members. Except we're Finders. Not just Seekers."

"She isn't telling you everything," Amanda said.

"There's another version of the legend that says we need all the Changers, not just the Garou. So we'd need to find the Sons of the Bear, those giant lizards, whatever they were called, all of them. Most of which, of course, were driven into extinction several millenniaago, and some of which were kin to animals that are likewise extinct. And how likely is that?"

"I don't know, 'Manda, but-" ]one closed down the computer to save battery power. "I'm at least going to try! Besides, think of what we learn even by looking.

Garou fetishes, new spirit allies, new ways of thinking.

The ways of being Garou are bounded but infinite." 7hd Ptr/lfJ,"/ P~tPT/ "There were other camps too." Amanda walked with them as Hack padded ahead. "My parents and some Hell's Angels were part of-"

"The Hell's Angels? With the Children of Gaia?"

Ringer was laughing and scared at the same time.

"Of course we thought they were with us," Amanda said. "They seemed to be the same thing as us, rebels and outcasts. The Patient Deed-that's the camp that tried this -always held that we should welcome all, try to stay our hands, not fight till the Last Day. Not afraid of violence, but wanting it in its proper place.

But just as always, we were assuming the natural goodness of people. And we were wrong." cA.(<..pfer-Two: TAe Gr-ove "Why do I think I've heard this before?" ]one muttered.

"We keep pounding ourselves about the Wars of Rage," Ringer added. "I don't think this is related to some fault you see in the Children. We know better by now."

"Do we?" Amanda asked. "Let me tell you about my parents. They made the same mistake only a generation ago and they thought they had it all figured out, too." She grimaced and the memories came to her.

"Of course, they were a little more foolish than most .... "

"They were what would probably be called 'hippies' nowadays, but really they were just part of the whole Berkeley intellectual crowd. For a while they hung out with a writer named Ken Kesey, became part of his group of 'Merry Pranksters.' Stayed at his place all the time smoking pot and dropping acid." ]one interrupted briefly to ask, "Kesey? Didn't he write One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest? Was he one of us?"

"Yes, he wrote the book. No, he wasn't one of us.

We were in that scene, but it wasn't ours." Amanda took another sip of her drink before continuing. "Anyway, around 1965 that whole crowd began embracing the Hell's Angels. Saw them as alienated American heroes or something like that. Eventually Kesey got in contact with the Angels through Hunter Thompson.

It was the day he was having charges for marijuana use dropped and Kesey and my parents were putting up a big sign reading 'THE MERRY PRANKSTERS WELCOME THE HELL'S ANGELS'. Needless to say, the cops were all over the place.

"According to my dad, everyone was worried the Angels would get violent after dropping too much acid. Turns out it made them as serene as any of the peaceniks they were hanging out with. When my parents described sitting down with Allen Ginsberg, Richard Alpert, and a bunch of Hell's Angels in a circle to chant the Maha Prajnaparamita Sutra, they spoke with the reverence of people who had walked with Daniel in the den of lions.

"Of course it was all bullshit. They had no idea what the Angels really were, and the drugged out peace caused by LSD didn't help their misinterpretation. All the radicals in the Berkeley scene began to assume there was some sort of natural alliance gong on, and they loved it. Students who didn't even have the guts to sign a petition or shoplift a candy bar admired how the Angels didn't come on with theories and songs and quotes, but with muscle and sheer balls.

"So comes this big 'Get O ut of Vietnam' march.

Everyone either thinks the Angels arc more peaceful than they are made out to be, or misread the motivacion for their violence. My parents were at the head of that march, fifteen thousand strong, leading marchers from Berkeley to the Oakland Army Terminal. They were met by a four-hundred-man flying wedge of Oakland policemen decked out in riot gear. During the standoff, along comes a gang of twelve Hell's Angels screaming 'Traitors!' 'Communists!' and 'Beatniks!' lt was all my father could do to keep from Raging while they beat up some of the leaders and tore down the speaker equipment. The police eventually restrained them, but the damage was lasting.

"So in the end, the Angels revealed their true colors. They didn't attack any more marches, though they did have a press conference where they called the marchers a bunch of un-American traitors and volunteered their services to the President for the war in Vietnam. He never took them upon the offer, though."

"Gee, I wonder why?" )one said with feigned shock.

"Yeah. So when True called for the abolition of camps, a lot of the Patient Deed who remembered failures like that stood down and went along with it.

It's kind of a shame, though; it was basically encouraging the idea that the camp hasn't done anything worthwhile since the 1960shell, it encourages the idea that they never did anything worthwhile before the 60s! And that's just so wrong. The Patient Deed was reaching out to the Uktena and Wendigo during the Old West era and even before; they were trying to mend fences in Turkey and the Middle East and North Africa even before that. But because some of us fixate too much on the same decade - one decade, out of millennia of existence as a tribe! - nobody looks beyond it much. The Patient Deed suffered from that.

It's scary. You'd think that with our ancestors accessible to us, more of us would try to remember more, but damn if we just don't keep letting the immediate past define us."

"So you're saying that because we don't look back, we have to keep relearning the same lesson: 'the enemy of my enemy is not necessarily a friend?'" asked Ringer.

Amanda shook her head. "No. I'm saying we can't trust anyone unless we know their goals and methods are something we can live with. And even then, we can't be sure. Of course, the Children have made that mistake since the beginning, my parents made it in '65, and we just made it now." /#1/fl/hiln:f f:lr/AJ "But isn't it worthwhile to get help from others?

Especially if there's something like the Apocalypse going down? Is there anyone in this tribe that's ready to fight?"

"Ringer, there are many Children who seek the path of peace but don't rule out striking back. The Imminent Strike - they were the most aggressive about it. They were the ones who were willing to fight alone in che Last Battle."

"Alone? How?"

"Well, itwasn'tsomethingtheywanted, mind. But they didn't want to have to look out for any other tribes or camps - that wouldn't have their backs one hundred percent. See, the reasoning went like this: Most other tribes, and most other camps, just weren't able to cooperate fully on account of their own hangups. The Shadow Lords were too obsessed with hierarchy and absolute chains of command. The Get didn't care whether the Garou survived the Final Battle or not, just as long as they won - so they weren't trustworthy. The Black Furies were too exclusive, the Uktena too close to the enemy, the Silver Fangs too ailing, and so on. As for the rest of the Children of Gaia, well, the Strikers didn't think we were willing to go the distance to win the war; they were convinced that we wouldn't give up our ideals if we had to."

"So I guess that True's call. .. ?"

"You know, I talked to a Striker not long after that, and asked him if the new unity was what he was looking for. He said, 'If everyone had immediately embraced it, then yes, it's what I'd have been looking for. But they didn't. Looks like the rest of the tribe still isn't ready."' "What a hardass." )one pursed her lips.

"You don't know the half of it. These guys were hardcore. They cultivated martial arts, Iskakku. all that, collected war fetishes, trained all the time, and every once in a while they'd drift over and ask us some riddles, testing us to see if we were ready for the Final Battle. Now you don't hear about that sort of thing much, but there's still a good number of our tribe who keep on building their war skills, readying themselves.

I don't think the Imminent Strike disbanded. I think they're still out there, only now I wonder if they aren't trying to recruit more people from other tribes instead of us." She sighed. "I hope they haven'tgiven upon the rest of us, I really do. I mean, they were never really the best peacemakers, but damn if they weren't good at teaching ochers co defend the works the rest of us had put together."

Arf/trn:ff P/fod U#tftJI'h "Okay ... what about the struggle to unify the tribes before the End Time? Anyone working on that?"

Jone led the group back down coward the strange concrete airstrip of the new 'Woodstock.' It was hot as hell and humid as a steambath. "You know, there's something kooky about this place; doesn't feel right somehow." People were nice, mostly, but the site itself felt weird, charged almost. Was it the status of the place a an old cacm?

"Yeah. That was the mission of the Servants of the Unicorn. They were the largest camp before True abolished the camps, or tried to. Honestly, they were a majority of the Children who wanted peace between the tribes and worked for it, and still do."

"Like how?" Ringer asked.

"Well," Amanda went on, "by arranging meetings and talks, by seeking common goals, like Blythe Holdsclaw's unity pact troops. He's a Child of Gaia in the mountain states, and his band was a group of multi-tribe packs that went into the Shadow to find Wyrm-nests and cleanse them. Good fighter, too.

Their latest trek started about six months ago, and they aren't back yet."

"Kcwl. Can I go?" Ringer twirled his staff.

"He welcomes anyone who's willing to cooperate and hunt down Wyrm-taint. Another Servant is Diana Goddess-daughter; Jamie Martin's her right name. She's worked for years in the troubles in Northern Ireland, taking cubs and Kin to summers in Norway, with Hjorlief Greatheart's sept in the Lofotens. She doesn't scorn fighting if it'll get something practical done. A Get pack trains them together in G arou lore. And trains them in combat ... sometimes kids from different sides get to know each other. Peace on the firing range."

"The Get help us? I thought they despised us!" ]one was curious.

"No, they're willing to help as long as we provide hideouts for them .. . take their wounded for healing, all that. Not all of them are racists, you know. They'll teach anyone how to fight, just becau e they think fighting's fun. Hell, they helped us fight apartheid in South Africa! There were the crazy racist weirdos among the Get who supported the Broderbund and the Total Strategy, but tl1ere were some that were even more whacked. They fought apartheid because it 'protected the weak!' They wanted blacks to have the same rights so that if whites were superior, they could damn well prove it -and if they weren't, so that the stronger race would have its opportunity to make its fortune!

Loved the old Zulus because they were brave and strong, and wanted that kind of valor in a foe; I hear a few Get even bred with some of the warrior tribes out of Africa. One of them howled in moot once. 'I need no LAW to make me the master. I AM a master and no one will slander me by saying that a law MAKES me so.' So they lobbied, breathed down a few Afrikaner politicians' necks, generally made a nuisance of themselves ... maybe it helped. See, we can get along.

There's always something you have in common, something someone wants. Something you can do. So the Servants aren't really a camp, they're just keeping on.

Doing some good where they can."

To Ringer, that sounded like all anyone could do.

Brlo/P-".1 o/69P~f?Mtrd "There is one group that I probably should mention, but I don't like even thinking about them."

Amanda shivered as she spoke.

Rich seemed confused. "If this group you mention is so repulsive, then why do we even allow them to exist as part of the tribe ?The factions are being dismantled."

"The problem is that they aren't actually Children of Gaia. They just think they are."

Now Jone cocked her head in curiosity. "Posers?"

"No. Black Spirals. That's what they are; they just don't know it yet. They call themselves the Bringers of Peace and strive towards bringing about the Apocalypse as quickly as possible."

Hack spat. 'That is sick."

"How could that happen?" ]one asked. "Wouldn't they be Black Spirals just like any other?"

"If a Child dances the Black Spiral, yes, of course; that's their initiation into their new tribe. But you can fall without actually going into the Black Labyrinth.

Think about it; when a Garou gives into the Wyrm he is essentially giving into his Rage. But what about a Child of Gaia who is in control of her Rage? What does she give into?"

Amanda paused for a moment while everyone contemplated the question, then spoke again. "She gives into a perverted version of peace, the 'ultimate answer'. By bringing an end to the world, they reason that this will also bring a final peace to everything.

The ... third peace. The Wyrm's."

"They're insane!" Rich declared.

"They're Black Spirals," Amanda corrected.

Jone stared off into the distance and began to speak. "I think I saw one of them once. This dirty, battered looking old woman had come to our sept.

When she changed to Crinos there were patches of missing hair and her eyes were yellow and jaundiced.

She began preaching something about the 'final peace', trying to convert members of the sept. Instead they jumped on her and tore her to pieces. No one ever explained what it was about, but now I think I know.

She looked so pathetic, Amanda!"

"Don't feel sorry for her," Hack growled. "Your sept was merciful."

B~trnr/.Aw~ Hg/f!Jr/ Night again and the pack gathered by the camp lamp. Ringer finished the last of his bratwurst and soda.

"We are most of the tribe ... most of all the tribes.

The other two breeds are just not common enough."

Mandy frowned.

"So, you had any pups? I know a good Kinfolk stud."

Hack's tail wagged high, the equivalent of a smile.

"Don't be silly. Any children I bore would carry my breed form. That's part uf the pruulc::rn. Male:: humids can impregnate wolf bitches, but females can't help out in the same way. And there you have it. Hom ids in our tribe are the majority, and they come from any place, and land, any culture. That's a neat thing about us .... " Wind buffeted Ringer's black hair, a sensation he hated. Should shave it again, but Hack likes running his fingers through it, when he has fingers.

"That you're all mutts?" Hack loved homids (one in particular) but enjoyed making fun of them wo.

"That we don't just value diversity for its own sake, which is silly. We use our diversity to make ourselves stronger. Pretty much any sept is going to have Children from four or five different countries, from a dozen ethnic groups, from howe-ver many lines of work, whatever. Anyone who wants peace, I guess, anyone ... spiritual. And a steelworker, a Navy fireman, a crochet artist and a skater don't agree on everything, but they have a lot to bring to the table. I remember Pearl-ofthe-River using Chinese herbal medicine to quell my nausea when I was pregnant; she also treated Raised-· By-A-Power when the chemo made her puke blood ... .

Us being from everywhere, all over the place, us accepting pretty much everyone, doesn't make us weaker. Hell, )one, didn't you say a Black Spiral had logged on to that chat board of yours?"

"He said he was one ... it's all totally anonymous, so I have no way to find out. I mean, the spirit that runs it is supposed to open it only to Garou and Kin. So he was Garou, and who would claim to be a Black Spiral who wasn't really one?" .Lo/J-IU "Never see too many four-legs, not in One-Horn's tribe," Hack said as night sounds returned during a break for the bands. "The old blood is too thin. Hell, One-Horn's almost a human himself. Maybe-" Ringer could almost hear Hack shifting further toward human to do the math-" one in twenty, one in fifty even, left in the tribe.l know you couldn't count a hundred of us all told. Most all of us raised in zoos, like me, dam mit.

Should be more of us, but there's too little wilderness left. Not enough for a camp of lupus, barely enough to keep the bloodline from dying out. And other tribes claim seniority, except in our old lands-but not here.

Not in Europe." Lightning bugs flitted in the fence.

"What about that rite? The one that Mandy said could let homids have lupus pups?"

"Not many want to do that. You two-legs like to think you're better than us .... "

"We do not!" shouted Ringer and realized that the wolf was joking.

"Well, we agree with you on most things. This 'peace', now, that's something we argue about. Because wolves don't have war! But we see humans fight, make peace, fight again. You two-legs, always tOttering around, falling forward till the other foot catches you, this peace you want is a Weaver-thing, made like a clock, hard to make, hard to fix. Lupus ... if we seek peace, it's the peace of Gaia: nature's way where killing is for food, struggling for dominance is not fighting, is not killing. Gaia is not static and She isn't 'nice.' But She is a way of peace."

"Butthe Wyld is dying. Every year, more trees are cut down, more species extinct."

"Yeah, so most of us lupus live with humans somehow: sometimes 'wild' on estates, sometimes as pets, sometimes in zoos and stuff. I mean, the threesquares-a-day part's not so bad. And we tend to be healthier, most of the time."

"If you could be, I mean, wild, would you?"

"I don't know. I'd miss talking to two-legs with your crazy ideas, and I'd miss ice cream."

The two of them had drifted away a little. "Hey, dog, let's go for a walk."

Hack followed, no words necessary. "Hack, I don't really know how to say this, but I feel kind of strange here. I mean, are you-"

"Yeah. Rich feels it too. There's something bad about this place, and we can't figure out just what. I want to get some of the Crescent Moons together and try to unriddle it, though."

"Uh, sure. Don't know how much help I'd be, but just tell me if there's anything you need me to do." He swallowed in a throat suddenly dry. "1, actually, was thinking about something else." They walked out of the camping area, through the gate, and into the concert zone. "I was wondering how you-" Music pummeled them as Blip-3.1416 began a set.

"Huh?" Loud music was a real pain to wolves and Garou because of their sensitive hearing. If caught by surprise it was worse.

"Nothing." ;Wd/1: "Rich, do you think the Children are really fair toward me tis?" The great wolf-head turned toward her in the camp lamp's light. The noise of the festival roared outside the camp circle. This, was a great place to pass unnoticed as Garou.

"Mandy, that's not a fair question. No tribe, not even the Gnawers, knows how to deal with us. None of them really deals with us the way that they deal with two-legs or four-legs. We know this is true ... it's okay."

"No tribe save one, Rich." Jone had head and shoulders out of her sleeping bag, glasses glittering red.

She had been starwatching.

The Hispo shape growled. "You mean the Fallen.

I know better than you do of what they offer."

"How - what do you mean, Rich ?" Mandy was curious now, the asker for once and not the teller.

"I mean that there is one tribe who are fair to metis, and that is the Dancers. And that I have sire-right among them."

"You're a Ron in? l thought Dancers always caught them." ]one's eyes were wide.

"No, there are some packs out there who do their best to rescue Dancer Ron in and bring them to the Children." This Mandy was sure of. "The last one I heard of died two winters past; they were tricked. The Dancer Ronin they had made contact with weren't as Ron in as they thought, and the pack walked into an ambush."

"So what the Web are you talking about, Rich?" asked }one.

"Gaia's oath that this is a pack secret?" The two women nodded and the not-wolf went on. "I am adopted into the Children." They knew as much. "My mother was Sara Meredydd Evans of the Fianna. My father ... was a Dancer."

"Jeez! Does anyone know?" Shock was all over ]one's face. "So you ... Dance with one foot? What?"

"I am a Child of Gaia. Would you say that Hack is half Fury? Of course not. And no breath of wrongdoing ever touched my mother."

"She was ... seduced? Was it a Bane?" Mandy felt a qualm of fear as she asked. Packmates or not, to suggest, even so far as she had done, that Rich's mother had neared Wyrm-taint would have sparked a duel, likely to the death and beyond.