Children of Cerridwen Redmane confronts the pack elders and is reunited with Thomas

Washing away makeup and soot in the middle of a snow-swept forest in the lands of Winter is a rather bone-chilling and unpleasant experience all around, but Redmane pushes her way through. Once more her fiery head of hair glints in the moonlight and tones of sun-kissed skin replace the pale pallor of her fey disguise. Erzsebet, for her part, gave her no time to rest after she cleaned. The two headed deep into the woods. Travel seemed to take hours along unseen paths through apparently unmarked snow. Even more disturbing are the times Redmane looks over her shoulder only to discover that the trail that should be left in their wake as somehow disappeared. But at long last Erzsebet announces that they have reached their destination. Odd ... given ahead seems as if it is just more snow and trees.

"This is the clearing of the elders?" Redmane asks, just to be certain the wolf had the same destination in mind that she did.

Erzsebet merely smiles that fangy smile of hers and beckons the knight to follow. The trees, Redmane soon discovers, are merely another illusion, for as they take a few more steps, a feeling of walking through gelatin crawls over her flesh. Then, as if growing out of the very ground, the knight finds herself looking into a valley ... and up ahead are the decaying ruins of an old town.

Abnehmenvolf
Once this must have been a proud city wrought of marble and granite, but the Years have not been kind. Buildings now crumble and waste away in the snow as a once proud people of the lands - Cerridwen's Children they called themselves - now huddle amongst the decay. Some are in their wolf forms as they lope slowly through their home and some appear more fey-like, at least on initial glance. But, those yellow eyes betray the wild creature that lives beneath the skin. Many are emaciated and weak as well, though they strain themselves to never show weakness. Mixed amongst them are stronger, younger, looking wolves, and all of those bear one thing in common; each wears a circlet of iron tightly locked around their necks.

The knight inhales deeply through her nose, letting the chill air clear away the last effects of the illusion. "It is quite a place you have here, Erzsebet," she comments.

Erzsebet sidles up behind the knight now and takes her firmly by the shoulders - a gesture that is rather laughable, really, since Redmane stands at least two heads taller. "As those of my race grow old and die, few are left to take care of our city," the wolf-woman growls softly into her ear. "Now hide those swords you bear and go where I lead you. If any of my people try to look you in the eye, don't return their stares. They will take it as a sign of power and aggression and our ruse will soon be over."

Redmane can't very well hide the sword on her back, but at least her cloak covers most of it. "Would it help if I gave you my silver blade?" she asks the wolf-woman.

"Yes, that will do," Erzsebet agrees. "In this form I may handle silver without taking any injuries."

Redmane unclips the scabbard at her hip from its frog, and hands the sword over to Erzsebet. "Your folk seem to have enjoyed 'civilization' in the past," she comments quietly. "Tell me, are your leaders chosen by age and wisdom or by strength and prowess as wild wolves do?"

Erzsebet tucks the silver blade under one arm and begins leading the knight forward again. "Remember, we once shared these lands quite peacefully with those not of our tribe," she tells Redmane as they walk. "As for how our leaders are chosen, they must possess strength and wisdom both; although it is not uncommon for us to settle matters of rank through combat, when all other qualities are equal."

"Good," the knight says. "I can work with that." She keeps her eyes lowered as she's led through the ancient city.

As the pair approach the village, yellow eyes peer out from the shadows. All around them low growls rumble from the dark. Some of the wolves have no fear of being seen as they appear all along the rock outcropping. As they lope along in step with them, their lips draw back, revealing glinting white teeth.

For her part, Redmane shows little reaction. She simply goes where Erzsebet leads her, and avoids making eye contact.

The wolf-woman does not draw back from the beasts that surround them, but turns her head this way and that to include all within her haughty stare. "Use your threats on those who would fear them," she rumbles at the pack. "I am taking this fey creature to our elders for transformation. Let us pass!"

A couple of the wolves from the outcropping jump down and block their path. The larger of the two steps forward and his flesh ripples and flows like so much clay. Soon enough, a man of all sinew and muscle stands before them. He crosses his arms as he glares at Redmane and her 'captor'. "And why should we believe that?" he growls, lips drawing back to expose still very real fangs. "You have been gone long, Erzsebet. And, I should point out, have long been vocal against such tactics. Why now of all times ... why do you claim now to hunt fresh blood for the pack?" The man then marches right up to Redmane and grabs a hold of her chin roughly. With a rather painful jerk of her head, the wolf-man is staring directly in her face.

Despite the warning, Redmane can't help but return his gaze - but she does so calmly.

With a growl of her own, Erzsebet grabs the wolf-man's wrist and wrenches it away from the knight's face before she makes the mistake of looking into his eyes for too long. "Enough!" she says. "Posture and prowl all you want before this one when she is one of us, but not before!"

The man pulls his hand from Erzsebet's grip. His flesh ripples as hair starts sprouting and bones re-align. Shifting half way between wolf and man, he growls through lupine lips, "Since when can you command me? When you argued with the elders your pack standing was taken from you, Erzsebet. You are lucky I do not throat you where you stand." And then ... the wolf's lips pull back into a smile. "But, I think I will allow it, this time. There are few pleasures left to us, but seeing you cower with your tail between your legs before the elders will be enough to pay for your insolence. Go to the circle and beg for their forgiveness. Offer them this ... dull-spirited woman. Bah, her eyes show little life and her scent is bereft of excitement and fear."

"Thank you," Redmane mutters as humbly as she can manage.

Angry color floods the wolf-woman's face but for all that, Redmane can see for the first time how fiercely beautiful she is. "Perhaps someone who does not allow fear to make her mistakes for her is exactly what our tribe needs, Angryff," she snaps back at him. Then she takes the knight by the shoulders once more and forces her to walk past the wolf-man. As they continue on their way, however, the heat of his glare can be felt on their backs.

"Pleasant fellow," Redmane whispers to her escort. "Probably likes to bite the tails of puppies."

Erzsebet snorts in disdain. "He forgets that he is little more than a pup, himself. And if he were to make the mistake of challenging me...well, he would soon see how skill outstrips youth."

Thankfully, no other wolves move to block their way now. Many watch them with wary - and sometimes hate-filled - eyes, though. Ahead is a crumbling cathedral of sorts; a great domed building. Standing before its doors is a statue Redmane recognizes; one of Cerridwen; her head bowed and arms curled about herself as if forever weeping.

"Will I be allowed to speak once inside?" Redmane asks. She doesn't know if anyone has ever been brought before the elders while still conscious, after all.

"You will, but not for long," Erzsebet replies. "Your best chance to say anything would be before they take you from me and into the circle. I believe this is what your kind calls, 'having a few last words?'"

"Very well then," Redmane says, pursing her lips and practicing her 'last words' in her head - and also hoping that she remembers them properly, and the elders would even recognize them.

Two wolves exit from the crumbling doorway up ahead. They encircle the two women and for a brief moment, they look to Erzsebet. Unspoken words are passed and then the pair bob their heads. Growling a brief warning to Redmane, they escort the pair into the building.

The Circle of the Fallen
Once a great cathedral to an ancient Goddess, this room has become the den of the elders. The center of the great room is an immense, smooth-stone floor. Once it must have been brightly polished marble with granite inlay ... but now it is dull, a shadow of its former self. A half-circle of granite is placed flush in the floor: the symbol of the crescent moon.

The wolves lead them to the edge of the circle, and then bark once; perhaps a command to stop. From the far shadows an elderly woman walks out into the center of the floor. From where Redmane stands, she can see there is no anger in her eyes; only weariness. "Erzsebet," she says in a soft, whispery, voice, "You have long opposed the decision of the council, and now they tell me that you have brought someone to be inducted into our pack. Why? What words finally swayed your heart to understand that all we wish to do is survive?"

Erzsebet goes to one knee in front the older woman for a few moments before rising again to speak. "I still do not agree with the elders' decision to take unwilling fey from their own families to join ours," she says firmly, although without rancor. "But this one sought us out. I agreed to bring her here so she might know of our plight and the reason why we need more lives such as hers to continue our line."

There's a moment of growling that ripples around the room from its shadows. That is, until the woman at its center raises her hand. "Then let her step forward to present herself to her future family and pack," she whispers. Curling her fingers now to Redmane, she adds, "Come, pup."

Taking a deep breath, Redmane steps forward, and says, "In.. in the name of Cerridwen, I invoke the Covenant of the Emissary: to be granted the Sanctuary of Her Cave, the Succor of Her Cup, and the Grace of Her Chalice. Will you hear the words of one who has stood where your people now stand, and the wisdom that I have learned?"

The room grows deathly silent. All around Redmane now, yellow eyes appear in the darkness and lock onto her, as if looking into her very soul. The Elder's head tilts slightly to the left as she seems to see Redmane in a new light. "You are no fey, for no fey left today would know those names or that covenant," she states, no anger in her voice. "We will listen for now. Though, know that just because you are not of the fey does not mean you will walk from these halls on two legs, child."

"I accept that," Redmane says, and then speaks louder to address the unseen crowd. "I am not fey, it is true. I am Muirenn Ruadhain, daughter of King Balor of the Fomor, and Lady Jarnsaxa of the Jotun. I was born far from here, in Lyonesse, one of the Undying Lands beneath the sea. In ages past, my people lived under the sun, on the green shores of Ancient Eire. But when the fey came, known to us as the Tuatha de Dannan, we resisted them and were pushed back into the sea, to Tyr na nOg.

"This was our ancestral home, the birthplace of our race and of our gods. There, we could not die, or grow old - but also, we could not increase our numbers. For an age, we lived there in peace. But the fey came to us again, driven now by the mortals and their iron. Again, we were driven out, this time to the south, to Lyonesse, where the remnants of many ancient peoples now lived. The mortals there gave us the knowing of iron and steel, and taught us the ways of war. And armed such, we went to reclaim our homeland.

"We had every advantage: we were stronger, we knew the land, we could not die - and our weapons could destroy the fey. As a young warrior, I slew hundreds, and waded through fields of blood. But the fey did not draw back, despite the fear we must have instilled in them. They used the land against us, learned to strike from a distance and used their magics to best effect. We giants were driven out once more, to lick our wounds in Lyonesse. This war went on for an age, invasion and retreat, with no end in sight.

"Wisdom came to me slowly, but it did come. I saw why we could not win, and how it was possible to do more than merely survive amidst the fey. I come now to warn you: do not continue on this path you've chosen. You cannot hide forever, and once you make yourself an enemy of the fey, there will be no turning back," the woman concludes.

"And why could you not win?" barks a question from the shadows. "It was because they were too weak and gave up," barks another reply ... which is followed by a yip. Apparently someone wants to hear the answer from the strange red-haired woman.

"Because the fey will not abide a threat in their midst," Redmane replies. "And any who attack them, or threaten their kin, are a threat. They have force of numbers, and force of magic, and are second only to mortals in their determination. You, however, are few. You cannot live like wolves, if you must hide like prey." She looks around the chamber, and adds, "And wolves that have been broken to the collar will never be more than dogs. You are only weakening yourselves needlessly, when there is a way you could thrive."

The last comment causes a low growl to rise from around the room. This time it is the elder before her that speaks, "Know the collar is to hold their shape until they are fully one of us. Once they are of the people, it is removed and they run wild and hunt as any of us do," she says with a quiet calm. "And ... why should we listen to you? You who have betrayed her own kind and joined the fey? You seek to raise anger with your accusations of prey, hoping to incite anger. Know that it will only anger children. So, choosing words to insult only damages your argument and deafens your voice to those you hope to convince."

"I mean no insult, elder," Redmane says. "I speak only the truth as I see it. And I say to you, that your only true hope for the future is to release your captives, and join the Lord of December's pack."

Now that gets an even louder growl from around the room. "And now you go too far," the elder says, her eyes growing narrow with anger for a second. She turns away and walks towards the shadows she came from, "The council will debate your words, Child of Eire. For now you will retain your skin." She pauses to look back to Erzsebet, noting, "You will rejoin your family. The child of Eire will be taken captive until the council reaches its decision. There will be no arguments or debate this time."

Wolves move from the shadows now and surround Redmane.

The knight seems momentarily disturbed that they are not going to transform her, but hides it quickly. "Thank you, Erzsebet. Do not concern yourself with my fate," she says to her escort.

To the elder's retreating form, Erzsebet murmurs, "The council already knows my opinions, so I will content myself with what has been said...for now." Then she turns her yellow eyes to the knight and says, "Good luck to you, Muirenn Ruadhain. You shall not stand alone." With those cryptic words, she allows other wolves to lead her out of the ruined cathedral.

Redmane is lead from the cathedral, surrounded by at least ten wolves. Every now and then they growl a short warning to her, but otherwise do not accost her. She's lead through the crumbling town to a stone building on the far side. Two of the wolves shift to fey forms and unbolt a very sturdy looking door. "Inside," they growl at her.

As she steps inside, Redmane asks one of the guards, "Tell me true; when the collars come off, will you, personally, really give the Transformed the same respect as natural-born members of the pack, or will you feel that they are… not quite equal?"

The only answer Redmane gets is, "Inside!" And when she's far enough in, the door is slammed closed. She can hear the heavy bolts on the other side slide into place.

"Ah well; the life of a monster is a lonely one," Redmane mutters as she looks around her temporary home.

There's a soft sound from the corner as something moves in the darkness. Apparently she's not quite alone in this small room. As for the rest of the room ... there isn't much that can be made out from the shadows. The air smells of dampness and mold.

"I was only kidding about the 'monster' remark," Redmane tells the darkness. "I'm really a very nice person, so you needn't hide."

There's no reply from that corner.

With little else to do, Redmane approaches the shadowed corner. "Are you one of the collared?" she asks. "I might be able to get it off, if so."

As Redmane's eyes slowly adjust more to the darkness, she can just make out a curled-up lump of fur lying in the corner, its breathing shallow. Every now and then it moves; probably sleeping.

The knight approaches more cautiously now, knowing that an animal waking from a nightmare could lash out. She tries to get a closer look at the animal, to see if it bears a collar or is wounded.

As she draws closer, Redmane can make out there is a collar around its neck. Something else also hits her senses the closer she gets: blood.

"Hmm, so the collars don't keep you from fighting I see," she comments, and kneels down next to the wolf to check it - carefully - for wounds.

There are several matted spots along his sides and legs that look like congealed blood. A few spots on its legs also look to be a bit swollen as well; either just from being bitten or perhaps hit.

"Nothing too nasty, unless that swelling is from infection," the woman mutters, and moves to inspect the collar and how it locks.

All Redmane can find with the collar is an unbroken circle of iron. Apparently however it is locked or even hinged is very well hidden. Behind her she can hear the bolts slide on the door.

"Hmmm," she goes, and turns to face the door for now. There will probably be time later to examine the collar.

The door opens and an oddly familiar woman enters. She's carrying what looks like a tray of food and over her shoulder is slug a small bag. She stops and looks at Redmane as if surprised to see someone else in the room. "Move away from him," she comments, though not overly harshly.

Redmane stands and moves aside without a word.

"Thank you," the woman says as she moves towards the sleeping canid in the corner. She sets the tray to her side for now and pulls her pack around. Without a word, she pulls out several rough bottles and worn bits of cloth. After dabbing a bit of the liquid on one of the scraps, she goes about gently wiping away some of the dried blood.

"Did he pull you from the water?" Redmane asks, thinking the woman looks like one that was chasing Thomas in the vision.

"Have we become so careless," the woman comments, "First to be found, then to be watched?" Her head shakes slowly, adding, "It is the end days."

"His name is Thomas, if you didn't know," Redmane says, leaning against the wall as she watches. "Those wounds aren't from the chase though, are they?"

"No," is the woman’s reply as she pauses to dab some more liquid onto her cloth. "I suppose you know this one, then. Maybe you can answer something."

"I can try," Redmane agrees.

"Why?" is all the woman asks as she resumes cleaning the wounds.

"Because he didn't want you to drown," Redmane says. "Because.. he doesn't think like an animal. And as to why he presumably got into a fight.. well, you have him trapped, and I imagine he'd chew his own leg off rather than be leashed."

"He never tried to hurt us. All through our pursuit, there were times we thought we had him and we would fight. Well, we would, all he would do is fight through glamour and glancing strikes; he never would kill, even when he had a chance. Then at the lake he turned around and dove in after us. He could clearly escape; it made no sense. I asked him later about that and his only answer was, 'You are not my enemy'." There's a pause there and she lets out a breath. "Even after he was changed, he continued to try and speak out, to convince the elders and anyone else who would listen that there were other ways. That what we were doing was wrong. The pack descended on him, again and again. And you know; he didn't fight back? All he would say is, 'You are not my enemy; I am not yours.' Eventually, he couldn't get up anymore." She shakes her head, asking again, "Why? How can someone stand there and take a beating without once fighting back?"

"You ask a strange question, when that is exactly what you expect those you take to do," Redmane says. "You are grinding down their souls over the course of a Month - stealing from them their pasts, their identities and even their bodies. Compared to that, what is mere physical pain? He does it, and will keep doing it, until you listen."

"Why would he care what happens to us? Why would he do this to try and make us listen? He is fey," the woman asks. "His kind betrayed us."

"You don't know them at all," Redmane says. "What betrayal do you speak of?"

"We gifted the Lords of this land with the ability to run in the forest as part of it. A form of the wild, similar to ours," the woman explains. "And they drove us from the lands in the end. We gave to them and they took from us," she adds angrily.

"Ah!" Redmane says. "I see now where the hate comes from. But tell me how they drove you out?"

"More came to hunt, to feed off the lands. They took our game; we retreated to find new hunting grounds. When they came again, we sent emissaries to the Lords ... and they never returned," the woman practically growls.

"How long ago?" the knight asks.

"The last emissary was sent before I was born; before we retreated here," comes the answer. She's now wrapping some bandages around the wolf's injured legs.

"Can you tell me this: where there those who warned against sending them, back then?" Redmane asks.

"No. Back then we were foolish and assumed it was just a mistake they made, that they had just forgotten about us," she answers. "The story said we hoped to rekindle the unity we once had. We send emissaries of peace."

"But you do not know if they ever reached the Lords of the fey?" Redmane asks as she finally sits down again, crossing her legs.

"No," she answers, now putting the bottles and bloodied cloth in her bag.

Redmane blows out a breath, and says, "I really cannot say what may or may not have happened. There are always those who gain from fostering conflict, but.. that isn't what this is about right now. Your elders are wrong. Taking people like this will never result in new pack members. Only animals, if even they survive the Month."

"If they do not survive, then they were not worthy," the woman answers, though there is no conviction in that voice.

"Not worthy of being tortured and beaten?" Redmane asks. "Do you really believe, in your heart, that love will grow from torture? Why do you treat this one's wounds when you know he will be beaten again anyway? Do you even try to defend him from the pack when they fall upon him?"

"He won't be beaten again. I had him placed in here to protect him, not cage him," the woman answers as she now stands. "If he wakes, please get him to eat something; he hasn't since he was taken."

"I can't make him do anything," Redmane says. "He will continue to suffer to show you what you are really doing. And if you feel any compassion, then you will suffer as well. You should let him go."

"It is not my choice," the woman says as she goes towards the door. A knock, and the bolts slide free, the door then opening.

"You don't have to follow the pack, you know," Redmane comments to the woman.

"Without the pack, I am nothing," she says, perhaps to convince herself of it as much as to try and convince Redmane. She steps through the door. It closes a moment later, leaving Redmane alone with the wounded wolf.

The knight immediately goes back to examining the collar. "I can't even chide you, Thomas," she mutters. "But I do wish you had your strength, because I'll soon need it."

As Redmane inspects the collar, she finds herself looking into yellow-green eyes.

"Hmmm, how long have you been awake?" the woman asks, even though she probably wouldn't understand the reply. She starts pulling and worrying at the collar, trying to find any section where there is some give.

The collar doesn't even begin to give. After a minute of Redmane fussing with the collar, the wolf pushes himself upright slowly, though his front legs shake slightly. He looks to Redmane, back to the door, lets out a short sigh, then back to Redmane. The next moment is even odder. It's not quite like hearing a voice in her head, but somehow she seems to think Thomas is saying 'They were betrayed.'

"Yes, well.. forgive my lack of surprise," Redmane notes. "It doesn't excuse what they're doing now. If they want to survive more than another generation without going completely feral.. heh, you probably aren't in the mood to listen to my ranting."

"Listening to you ranting is better than thinking on how I feel right now," Thomas somehow admits with a small snort. "Both of us are just pawns in a very old story, too, by the way. I contacted my allies when I began to suspect who might be behind the disappearances. After I saw a wolf in the woods constantly trying to lure me away, that is. Both sides in this believe they are in the right."

"Thomas, both sides in any conflict believe that," Redmane notes. "But your nurse was right about one thing: these people are naive. They saw me brought in by a person who had spoken against capturing people, but they saw that she held my silver blade. They didn't even try to search me before throwing me in here. How badly do you want out of that collar?"

"I know you have your sword, I can smell the oil on it," Thomas comments with a sniff. A shake of his head further says, "Leave the collar. Removing it would do no good; I could not make it very far without clothing. And removing it would just have them descend on you. Strong as you may be, not even you could stop an entire pack if they are determined to kill you."

"Well, that's why I hope they'll take me in trade for you," Redmane says. "You can find your way back to the road, and tell Lord December what's going on. He's the only one that can either give these people what they want, or put them out of their misery. Of course, if he chooses to do nothing then I'd be stuck here pumping out puppies."

"He already knows, Redmane," Thomas says as he noses the tray of food for a moment. "But then perhaps the letter I sent to Drift did not reach you."

"I got it. Don't trust anyone, it said," Redmane notes. "That really didn't help much, you know. If December really knew all along what the issue was, then why send me or anyone else?"

"It's all about who is 'right'," Thomas says with a rather odd look to the woman. "And goes back to why they were betrayed by the Lords of Winter." Struggling a bit, Thomas leans forward to nose Redmane squarely in the forehead, as if to say, "Think. Why would they be a threat to him?"

"Hmmm," Redmane says, lying back on the floor. "His ability to shift was 'given' to his line from them. What's to stop them from giving the gift to someone else? If it's the defining characteristic of the ruling family, then it would lead to all sorts of succession issues I suppose."

Redmane's answer is greeted by a lopsided smile. "Good. That was what the Hawks uncovered for me when they borrowed a few old books from December's archives. The old Lord feared they would turn on his family. Now, a few generations later, given that Lord could tell his side of the tale to his family, well... it follows that they too would believe them to be a threat, whether they are or not. Now, why, then, involve others from different Houses?" the wolf asks next as he lays down beside the woman and peers at the side of her face. "What would that gain him?"

"Allies," Redmane replies after a moment. "See? They've taken your people too! They're a threat to everyone! Same old, same old."

"Then, in the eyes of the larger populace, who is in the 'right'? Who can act without fear of repercussion? Send in an actual army without need of fear of it being known? Thomas asks next with a cold nose to Redmane's cheek.

Redmane bats lightly at the cold wet nose. "Watch where you stick that thing. Okay, so December gets a Royal Writ of Do Whatever I Want to solve the problem. Have you told this to the elders already?" she asks.

"They wouldn't listen," Thomas notes with a shrug. "The problem is that both sides in this are stubborn. I do think Lord December believes they really are a threat. And the wolves here believe the same. Try to get two sides with conviction to talk to each other, tch." The next moment, the wolf is tugging on Redmane's hair with his teeth. "I am also sorry you were drawn into this political mess. I had hoped to keep you out of the politics of these Lands."

"Ouch!" Redmane complains. "Do you want me to pet you or something?" she asks, a bit sharply. Then she sighs, and says, "So, the best thing we can do is.. hmmm. Hostage exchange. That's pretty common between neighboring kingdoms. Or intermarrying.. same thing, really. We just have to kidnap.. hmmm. What would you suggest?"

"Right now ... well, see what they intend to do with you. You aren't on four legs yet, so that in itself is interesting," Thomas notes as he scoots over now to lean against Redmane's side.

The woman throws an arm over the wolf, rolling onto her side as well to hold him close. "I'm less dangerous to them on two feet," she notes. "If I were a wolf, what's to stop me from challenging the alpha elder for control of the pack? And... how come you never came to visit me, anyway? Just because I belong to a House doesn't mean I'm not lonely."

There's a sigh from the wolf. "To protect you, Muirenn. You are already 'different', which makes others wary of you. You didn't need the stigma of being known to associate with a 'House Traitor' as some like to call me. It wasn't because, as you seem to like say, you're a monster." comes the answer.

"Ah, so you were saving me from being further alienated?" Redmane asks. "You could have always written. I can read, you know." After a moment, she also adds, "Of course, it's not like you can run off now."

"You're in a difficult position. You proved yourself a capable fighter, but you do not have enough ... well, clout with various nobles to afford you the leeway to associate with whomever you wish," the wolf tries to clarify. "As for writing, well, in truth I wouldn't know what to say. Words on paper can only express so much in the end. Without the tone, the movement, it just lacks the true expression. And what do you mean by I can't run off now?"

"Well, we're locked in a cell if you hadn't noticed," Redmane notes. "And you might as well eat something, too. I wonder if they'd just let you out if you scratched on the door though? You aren't a prisoner."

"No, I'm just stuck in a wolf's body if you hadn't noticed. Not a whole lot of places I could go, even if I was out of this room," Thomas points out. "Plus, now that you're here, I have to keep an eye on you. You might get into trouble."

"Me?" Redmane asks in mock surprise. "Oh right, the wolf thing. What's it like? Do any of the behaviors even seem weird to you in that shape?"

"The hardest part is getting used to how everything smells and sounds. You have no idea how you smell to a wolf," Thomas notes and noses her forearm.

"Well.. I'm sure I smell interesting," Redmane says. "You must taste things differently too. I mean.. you have to lick yourself clean.."

"You smell lonely," Thomas remarks, the corners of his lips twitching. "And yes, things taste differently. As for the comment about licking myself; I won't dignify that with a response."

The woman lies there quietly for a bit. "They aren't going to turn me into a wolf unless I agree to go along with it, since they can't hold me with a collar," she suggests. "I don't know that it would do any good though. Unless I wait for a Month, I can only change back to human form once, and then I'm stuck that way. Not exactly compelling evidence to prove to anyone why December is worried."

"If they change you it will ... hurt. Probably more than anything you have ever felt before," Thomas notes with a small shiver of his body upon remembering. "But, on the other hand ... at least I would have a potential 'partner' in a wolf's life," he adds after a moment of thought, then tilts his head back to snap playfully at her.

"Heh, I'd have lots of suitors you know," Redmane notes, then asks more seriously, "How are the other captives handling it so far? They have more to lose than either of us."

"But no suitor as amazing as I am," Thomas retorts. At mention of the others, though, his ears wilt a bit. "They seem ... defeated. But, the longer they remain this way, the more they forget why they are unhappy. Or so the claim is made."

"They forget themselves then," Redmane says with a sigh. "That.. I can't accept that. I won't leave them like this, Thomas. Regardless of December's or the elders' plans, those people have to get their lives back."

There's a bit of quiet from Thomas, before he somehow manages to ask, "Why? You have not been treated the best by the fey. Why are you so willing to help them? How far are you willing to go?"

"Because it is.. evil," Redmane says, quite simply. "It will destroy these people, even though they don't realize it. All of that suffering for nothing."

"Why do you care, though?" Thomas asks. "I can smell the fire in you when you speak of how terrible it is."

"Because, it gives me purpose," Redmane finally admits. "It justifies me walking away from a pointless conflict, rather than keep going along and adding to the suffering."

"Then in a way you and I are not so different," Thomas notes. "Will you promise me one thing?"

"Hmmm, ask me first," Redmane says. "You fey and your oaths and promises.. they can lead to trouble if one is careless about them."

"If I lose myself to this, take that sword you carry and end the wolf that is left behind," Thomas asks.

"That.. that I can do," Redmane says. "If I survive myself. If they will not budge, then I will try to destroy the transformation circle itself."

"I think I should get some rest. You should too," The wolf says, "All we can do now is wait. And Redmane? Muirenn? Thank you."

Redmane snugs against the wolf, and tries to sleep. In the end, she wonders if it will come down to who wields Cerridwen's power best.

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.