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by: Aishe
#1859
Friday, 10 February
6:38 AM, Scotland

Aishe hiked through the dense pine woods of Wild Card territory. She breathed deep the citrusy scent of the trees and marveled at the quiet afforded by the snow packed onto the woods.

I am likely the first Silent Strider to travel this territory in generations...

Her mission had already humbled her, but the realization that she could very well be walking to her death kept her from becoming too proud of her trailblazing. Black Spiral Dancers weren't kind to interlopers, and the rumors of what "not kind" meant were usually used to scare pups into obedience. How many tales had she heard of the wild wolves of the north? A small smile played on her lips as she considered how she had worked that into Soren's tale.

She paused in a clearing, catching her breath and her bearings. She'd been hiking for four hours already after leaving Soren at midnight. He was healing and stable enough that she felt it was time to inform his family of his fate. From his flat, she'd taken a train north and then began walking...she'd not dressed for warmth and was regretting it. Sure, she had sturdy brown boots and wool leggings under her grey and orange skirts and shirt. She'd even worn a coat and cloak over the ensemble, but she'd not realized that the very environment was as biting and fierce as the pack it was home to. She touched the owl skull threaded onto her belt for luck as she tried to rehearse what she would say to Soren's pack when she found them.

And speaking of...she heard movement behind her and caught a scent that was most definitely Spiral. She put her hands up in the air to show her submission to being caught. She spoke first, giving them the advantage.

"I am Aishe Far Runner of the Silent Striders. I was tasked with delivering the message and aid of the nation to Twilight's Howl, and then I was to watch and remember his battle with the demon Nosferatu called Charon Nachtweber."

She caught her breath again, shivering in cold and a touch of fear. Soren was not as intimidating as an entire pack of unknown Spirals...She breathed slowly to calm herself. If she was too fearful, it would complicate this.

"I have come to tell you he lives and was successful; I would speak with your alpha if he would listen."
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by: AC
#1864
They had caught her scent shorty after they had shifted back to human form. An intruder, a garou who was not a Spiral. A brave one no doubt, though stupid for thinking she could travel these lands undetected. Her movement was loud. A clear indication that she wasn't used to traveling through snow, and it made tracking her down easy.

The pack moved swiftly and with great care. Even though they had returned to their human trappings if felt good to run again, to stretch out muscles. It was also a great way to ward off winter's chill bite. It didn't take them long to locate her, and the pack spread out and shadowed her movements. She was alone. Interesting. Almost any time meddling garou traversed the lands they did so as a pack, never alone. And for good reason too. Spirals were known to kill simply for the joy of killing, and it was well known that ever since they had been run out of Ireland by the Fiona, they tended to show no mercy when it came to protecting their Scottish lands. Taking a kill first ask questions approach nine times out of ten.

Eventually she stopped in an open clearing. Perfect. A man of average height allowed himself to snap a branch as he stepped out into the clearing behind her. He was dressed haphazardly dressed in winter clothing appropriate to the climate and area. The jacket was muggle in nature and hung loosely off his frame and was left open, the pants were light and looked like they were made to allow free movement, but the boots were a simple fur wrap, something that marked him as a true northerner.

He offered a fanged grin at her submissive gesture, and motioned to the rest of the pack to reveal themselves. It had been a long time since a Strider dared venture into his land. He drew a hunting knife from a small pack he had carelessly slung across his back. This would be an easy kill. The lanky garou advanced but stopped short when she began to speak. She had been with Soren? And he lived? He turned to look behind him and offered a confused whine.

After a moment of silence an even taller man, standing close to 6'-2" than anything and was dressed in nothing more than a heavy sweater, pants, fur wraps on his feet, and a heavy fur lined cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Red eyes took in the young woman, this messenger of the tribes. He'd heard nothing about Soren since the night his boy was tasked with a mission he could not refuse. The news that he was alive and had succeeded was joyous. Even though he didn't show it, there was noticeable excitement among the rest of the pack.

"Aye the alpha will listen lass, provided the tale is worth listening to. Is he here?"
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by: Aishe
#1869
Aishe turned to the alpha, keeping her eyes on the ground in front of his feet. She tilted her head to expose her scarred neck, then dropped to her knees in complete acknowledgement of her submission.

She drew a breath in and spoke. If the pack decided to kill her, it would be here when she denied the presence of their pack mate.

"Although he survived and met with success, he still stands at the gates of the afterlife. He is recovering in his dwelling in the human city. Had he not been a Spiral, he would have died..."

The rest of what she had to say caught in her throat as she stumbled over the emotion in her revelation. Soren dead? She found herself unable to bear the idea. He couldn't die, not when her heart had a story to tell his.

She swallowed, aware of her emotions. It would do no good to be a heartsick fool in front of a pack of hostile and strange wolves.

"Despite his grievous wounds, he acquitted himself well; I bear his tale to tell the nation, but I would offer it first to the Wildcards. Will you permit me the honor of sharing the ceremony of First Telling with your pack?"

It wasn't an unprecedented offer, but it was rare. Typically, packs heard the stories at the Telling that was given to the representatives of the nation. A story teller could choose to give the first telling to the pack of their story's focus as a gift to honor them if the teller so chose. Aishe found herself wanting to give these wolves that honor. She waited for the alpha's decision with her head bowed and neck exposed, waiting for acceptance or death.
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by: AC
#1877
Corc listened intently as Aishe spoke. As far as he could tell she was speaking true and that brought a sense of relief to the older wolf. His son survived the suicide mission he had been given. He was hurt but alive. He silently offered a prayer to the whooper-will to thank the totem of death for protecting his son.

Now what to do with this cowering thing before him. He didn't miss the emotion she had emitted when she mentioned Soren was only alive because he was a Spiral. Interesting. Had she somehow managed to worm her way into his life? As far as he knew Strider's were supposed to watch and not assist. Corc added it to the list of question he wanted answered later. For now though they all needed to get back home. The wind was picking up and they were all recovering from a shift and the old wolf had no intention of getting caught in a storm if at all possible.

Corc motioned for the pack to move out and they did so without question, excited whispers and chuckles as they clamored about their brother. Unsnapping the clasp on his cloak he let it fall from his shoulders so he could hold it in front of him. He shivered slightly as he dropped it in front of the young story teller. He could survive in a sweater, and the Alpha was certain she could not.

"Put it on. You won't be telling any stories if you freeze to death.... and get up. Sitting in the snow just makes the cold worse. We got a 20 min hike before we get home.

Corc moved to follow his rag tag bunch, not waiting for Aishe. It would be up to her if she followed or not.
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by: Aishe
#1878
There were many things said about the Black Spiral Dancers. They were crazy. They were feral. They were brutal.

All these things were true. But aishe did not expect them to also be kind. She accepted Corc's cloak and thanked him, immediately on her feet and following. The distance was no bother for her; she had acceptance and other Garou around her, so she no longer went in fear of being lost or frozen to death.

Softly, she hummed a traveling song to herself. A pleased smile grew on her face. She would face her council of story keepers and elders with two stories. Certainly, "How I met the Spirals" would not be a legend, but it could wind up useful for training runners on how to not get their heads ripped off.

She wished Soren was here. This was his family; she had no right to be enjoying their company while he was abed in the grip of Death's claws. Perhaps she could bring him tidings of his pack. Yes, she'd offer to run messages for him while he recovered. That would please him...she smiled again at the thought of purposefully trying to make Soren happy. Was she trying to woo that stubborn heart?

Aishe decided that the answer was yes. However Soren reacted to her advances, she was a Silent Strider. Her ways were allowed to be mysterious, and it would be just like herself to not let her heart get too tied down. But he would be easy to bring missives and tokens to...

She kept smiling, pleased with her new found boldness.
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by: AC
#1879
The group walked in a comfortable silence with the exception of a whispered word here and there or a quiet conversation that was quiet enough not to be overheard. Even though they had been walking for more than 20 minutes, it felt like no time had passed before they were stepping out of the pines and into a small clearing.

Inside the clearing was a small cabin, no bigger than a shack really by outward appearances, though the inside had been magically altered to fit all of the pack comfortably. Lazy clouds of smoke drifted up from the chimney giving the place a cozy warm feeling. The ground outside was well traveled and most of the snow was packed down or moved out of the way. In about the middle of the clearing was a fire ring for occasions when the night sky called to them.

Most of the group that had run into Aishe had dispersed, leaving only a couple with her and the Alpha. Corc turned to the taller of the 2 Spirals that had remained behind. "Lain go find Anna and tell her Soren's alright, then send Tails and Harper out to recall any scouts that haven't made it back yet." The man, recognizable as the Spiral that had first approach Aishe nodded and took off towards the cabin. Corc then tuned his attention to a short, stalky woman. "Tell everyone to meet up out here in 20 minutes. That should give them time to get food and be in a more hospitable mood. Our Strider here says she has a story for us." The woman took off without question, which left the pair alone.

"So what do you need for this tory of yours? As you can probably tell we ain't got much and we don't do a lot of the ceremonial stuff. Weather should hold for a few hours I'd wager if it needs be done outside. Otherwise plenty of room inside." Absently Corc rubbed his hands together before blowing on the to keep them warm. He made mental note to go and grab some mitts and a cloak if this was one of those outdoorsy type of things. And food. Merlin he was starving.
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by: Aishe
#1881
This was nice. Aishe looked around appreciatively at the cabin and the ground surrounding it. It was nicer than the patch of land allotted her pack. Granted, they didn't live there, but they met once a year and exchanged stories and took care of pack business. They had a clearing that they all camped in...to have a permanent home, or even a semi permanent home, seemed affluent and wonderful to the Strider.

"This land is beautiful, alpha. You guide your pack and steward your territory well. I shall need a fire, either indoors or out, and a pack willing to hear the birth of a new legend."

She was genuinely comfortable. The idea surprised her, given her initial nervousness. Yes, Spirals were more intense than other tribes, especially the Gaia, but they were still garou of the Nation. They were still her cousins and fellows. Affection for the Wild Cards bloomed in her, and she felt the draw to guard their stories and history so they would be preserved in the records of her tribe.

Aishe drew three small packets of herbs from her pocket. One was bright power, to make a fire flash. One was smoke powder, to create a billow of dark and aromatic smoke. The third was color powder to change the flame temporarily to a bloody red. These three powders were used to visually aid a story teller in their tale. All Striders had the basic three...the more advanced story tellers had colors of every shade, smoke powders that had different scents, and even potions that could make shapes like animals fly out of the fire. Every story could stand on its own, but the theater was part of the telling. Especially the first telling.
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by: AC
#1882
"Good, inside then. To bloody cold this early in the morning," the alpha growled out before he set off, knowing Aishe would follow. Corc pushed the door opened and was greeted by the site of most of his pack fighting playfully among themselves for food. It brought a fanged grin to his face.

The cabin was much bigger on the inside having been magically extended, and it was large enough to house the pack comfortable. For the most part it was all open, the only exception was an area off to the back that was cordoned off and used as sleeping quarters. Along the back wall were a few tables and chairs, a couple iceboxes and a counter with a few camp stoves lining it. In the center of the cabin there was a cookfire with a small spit set off to the side. Couches of all shapes and sizes surrounded the fire and just as many furs and pillows littered the floor. It was as if the magical and muggle world had been smashed together and this was the result.

Corc moved to the back of the room to where a tall, lithe woman was dishing out plates of food. He gave her a kiss before whispering something to her and nodding towards Aishe, whom he assumed would set up what she needed around the fire. That done he grabbed his own plate and moved to grab a seat on the floor near their guest and set the lead for everyone else. I didn't take long before everyone, from elder to pup, was seated. The woman Corc had talked to earlier moved toward Aishe and handed her a plate before sitting next to Corc.

"Eat and then you can us your tale," she said.
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by: Aishe
#1905
Aishe nodded assent with Corc. Outside was dramatic and wonderful for the grand legends, especially at night when the tapestry of stars spread overhead to share their stories. In the middle of winter in the early morning in Spiral territory, however, was not Aishe's idea of a good story telling venue.

She followed and observed, drinking in the sight of the pack's home. It was utilitarian, comfortable, and rustic. Something about it reminded her of the tribe itself. Maybe she was reading too far into them, but they were a simple tribe, unlike the Shadow Lords or Glasswalkers. The Spirals had one major motivation: Fight for survival. This cabin out in the middle of the ferocious wet winter set itself up against nature in the same way that the tribe set itself against the nation. Neither could compromise, and they both were made stronger by the defiance. Neither could submit...Aishe cocked her head thoughtfully at the idea.

The young Strider graciously accepted the plate from Corc's wife. She smiled thankfully and ate quickly. As story teller, they would be waiting for her. As soon as she as finished, she took her plate to where others were leaving their dirty dishes. Aishe kept her head down as she approached the fire in the middle of the room. She began clearly, but softly.

"Oh wolves of the frozen Scottish moors...Wild Cards of the Black Spiral Dancers, I stand before you as Aishe Far Runner of the Silent Striders, the first of my pack and my tribe to stand among you for over three generations, and I beg you to hear this tale. "

Aishe raised her hands to the ceiling and tilted her head back, a standing submission and placation for the totem spirits to hear the tale. When she dropped her arms, she swirled the smoke powder into the fire. The motion created a swirling, opaque vortex.

"In the beginning was the Dark. It held no stars and cared for nothing. Out of the dark ran the First of our kind."

She had timed her words perfectly. The smoke cleared as she began to speak of the nation's beginnings.

"The First was not male. The First was not female. The First held all of the tribes within itself, and it was the Nation as one. But Garou were not meant to run alone, so the First split itself, exploding across the dark into all of creation, forming the constellations, the totems, the stars, the land, the sea, and the Nation. From the First's heart came the Silver Fangs. From the mighty paws, the Shadow Lords. The fangs of the First became the Get of Fenris. The black Furies and the Children of Gaia were born from the First's motherly instincts, both to kill and protect. The Glasswalkers were the ears of the First, the Striders were the eyes. From the nose came the Bone Gnawers, always able to scent their way home. The Red Talons and the Uktena and the Wendigo were the legs of the First, always able to carry the Nation back to our heritage. The Fianna were born of the First's howl, as dangerous and joyful as the howl of any Garou."

She paused here. The order in which the tribes were named had a lot to do with the story being told, the audience, and the intentions of the story teller. The first and last tribes named held special honor. Traditionally, as alpha of the nation, the Silver Fangs were named first. The tribe named last was always the tribe of which the hero of the following tale hailed from. Interestingly, the second to last tribe named was almost always a place holder for the hero's rival. It showed that they weren't important enough to be named higher, nor were they the heroes. She wondered if the Wild Cards knew that detail in a story teller's arsenal. She continued, breaking from the traditional naming of the Spiral's tribe origin.

"But what is a Garou without their rage? And what is the Nation without the Black Spiral Dancers?"

She left the question to hang unanswered. It didn't need said; a Garou with no rage was no Garou at all.

"Wild Cards, children of the twin totems Lion and Whippoorwill, this is your story. It shall be remembered so long as Striders walk the nights, as long as Owl remembers, as long as the breath of the First remains in creation. Hear and approve, I beg."

She sprinkled her color dust into the flames, turning them blood red.

"There came from the south a demon. This agent of the Dark craved evil and thrived off of blood. He called himself the Butcher, and his totem was Death. Into the lands of the Isles he stalked, unafraid of the Nation and laughing at their stewardship. Left, right! He slayed as he saw fit and none dared oppose him. The White Rats, may the nation remember them, fell to the Butcher's silver claws. An entire pack was swallowed by the avatar of Death!

But then lo! Whippoorwill heard that his domain was being attacked, and he called to the elders of the nation. 'Call forth my champion so the world may know!' said he. The elders met and pondered. They fasted and called to their totems for many nights. 'Know what?' they asked."


Aishe spread her arms wide, dropping bright powder into the flames. She threw her head back in the flash of light and intoned in a high an ethereal voice the totem's reply.

"'That I am death! I am the end of life and the beginning of eternity! I am Whippoorwill, and my Fury shall fall at Twilight!'"

She waited a beat. The parallel was significant. No, she didn't have the exact words that the totems gave the elders, but that didn't matter. Soren was called, so she had the liberty to make his claw one of prophecy. She relaxed her stance back to a neutral posture.

"And so the nations gathered. They deliberated and searched for long weeks, until the Black Spiral Dancer known as Soren Sheperd was revealed to them. He is Twilight's Fury, beholden to the Lion, heir of the Whippoorwill, and beta of the Wild Cards. I, Aishe Far Runner of the Silent Striders, personally delivered the call of the nation to him. He received his task and accepted the call, eager to prove what the Black Spiral Dancers already know: He served the true totem of Death, and no Nosferatu or Garou could take that honor from him."

She gauged her audience. All eyes were on her and it was silent. She continued after a branch popped in the heat of the flames.

"And so it was that we went to the castle of humans called Hogwarts. The moon rose high and sang her song, a death dirge for the usurper called the Butcher. Ancient wyrm, evil thing of death though he was, he was wary. His caution proved his undoing however. As the moon sang to Soren, he revealed the power of the Garou. All who witnessed him were afraid, for they knew that he was their master and he was their doom. I myself bear the scars of submission to his righteous and terrible rage."

She tilted her neck so the silvery skin of healed scars showed in the firelight. She bore the marks proudly. She had survived a Spiral in his rage, and few could boast that.

"And so he hunted, did the avalanche of fury. His prey was quickly discovered and engaged. They met as lightning meets the earth, as surf pounds the shore, explosive and tenacious. The old monster was fast, armed with silver claws, and bearing the fangs of the Nachtweber; Twilight's Fury was strong, armed with the gifts of the nation, and bearing the fangs of the First. Bite after bite, claw to claw, the titans grappled. The Nachtweber laid traps for Soren, catching him in a blinding spell. That did not slow down the Garou. The blood drinker laid bare Soren's fore leg. That did not stop the Garou. The vampire took Soren's eye! The Garou made the Nosferatu pay with his life! But in the final, cruel blow, the demon buried his claws in the slayer's chest. Having won against the false avatar of Death, Soren Shepard found himself in a new fight against Death himself."

She mixed her red powder and her smoke powder together and tossed them in the flames. Blood red smoke billowed up and she continued her tale.

"Doused crimson in the blood of his foe and his own blood, Soren battled against Death, refusing to submit and follow. Whippoorwill acquiesced, relenting only for his totem-sworn's sign of fealty. So, Twilight's Fury survived the false avatar of Death and proved himself worthy to bear the scars of his totem. So witnessed, so told. The rage of the nation overcomes all adversaries."

She bowed her head, completing her tale.
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by: AC
#1988
Corc leaned back against his wife Anna and listened intently to the story Aishe was weaving, while still keeping a close eye over the rest of the pack. For most of them, a telling of this caliber and scale was a foreign concept. Aishe hadn't exaggerated when she had said a Strider hadn't graced Black Spiral territories with their presence in decades. It was no fault of their own, but after the continual wars with the Fianna and Get, it was easier just to force all tribes to stay clear. Honestly the last time Corc had heard a telling was at a gathering of tribes back when he was nothing more than a pup.

As Aishe weaved her tale, everyone was seemingly drawn in by her words, offering cheers, yips and whines when appropriate. Hoots and hollers claiming nothing could tame the fury of a Black Spiral dancer were followed by a joyous howl when it came to the part about Soren killing the Nachtwebber. Corc felt his chest puff out in pride. That would show those stuffed up Silver Fangs that Spirals would be here to stay. MacTavish would be ecstatic and the wild Cards would gain much prestige withing the Spiral ranks.

When the telling was over the younger member of the pack swarmed the young Strider, barking out questions for more details about Soren, the fight, her and her pack, and if she could tell more stories like that. Quite honestly Corc had to bite back a laugh as he watched, curious to see how she would handle herself.

After an appropriate amount of time was given for Aishe to humor the pack, Corc let out a gruff bark and told everyone to get back to their normal jobs. Some were due at the park, others had a border to patrol. No point in them all getting lazy, though the Alpha knew they all understood and would be grateful enough they got to experience a story like that. There would be time in the evening for chatting and general hanging out if Aishe chose to stay that long.

Once the riff raff was gone, Corc motioned for their guest to sit and relax. Anna was still there and it wasn't hard to tell both were concerned for their son.

"you've out done yourself today Strider. I'll be sure to tell your alpha about today. That said now, tell me straight up, how is Soren faring? You say he sustained severe injury? How bad?"
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by: Aishe
#2015
Each tribe handled storytelling differently. Fianna were known to pound the tables and roar approval, Get would reenact the battle scenes described, Glasswalkers would begin analyzing the story...Spirals apparently charged the teller!

Aishe drew back from the onrushing youngsters, instictively dropping her chin to protect her throat. Instead of a flurry off claws, though, she was met with an outpouring of questions. She smiled, warming instantly to the curiosity on display. As best she could, she answered as many of the inquiries that they could throw at her. Finally, Corc restored order. Aishe found herself laughing at the rough-and-tumble group. There was an honesty and purity to their lives that made her feel comfortable and safe. She brought that smile to the alpha and his wife, but it was quickly replaced with a somber expression.

She politely kept her eyes at Corc's shoulder when she addressed him.

"Unfotunately, I spoke truly when I told of him battling Death itself. Had he not been a Black Spiral Dancer, I'm sure he would have died that very night. The Nachtweber fought with silver claws, and his final blow was thus."

She raised her right hand and stiffened the digits into claws, then twisted it over her heart.

"Had circumstances differed, I fear even being a Spiral would not have been enough to prevent tragedy...I held a life debt over a human and exchanged it for her healing abilities."

She indicated the bite around her throat.

"This was a killing blow meant for the witch; I took it to preserve Soren's honor in the fight. Owl smiled at me because I was able to use that to save Soren's life as well."

She ducked her head, knowing that what she said could be construed as prideful. She saw it as happenstance. Whippoorwill and Owl didn't want Soren to die, so they arranged circumstances to provide the means of salvation for their chosen Garou.
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by: AC
#2066
Both Spirals listened intently as Aishe spoke and each made sure to keep a neutral expression so as not to give away their true feelings. They had both known Soren was a true fighter. Ever since he was a pup he'd shown great promise and strength. The news that he beat the Nachtweber and somehow managed to survive with some help was a miracle in itself. Honestly Corc had expected that he would lose a son when the trial was handed down from the elders, so it was hard to stamp down the feeling of worry that was gnawing at him.

Silver was a hard wound to come back from. The alpha had his own scars from an unfortunate encounter with a self proclaimed hunter and that event had almost killed him. Aishe and the witch that stepped up to help much have had their work cut out for them if Soren had indeed taken a silver clawed gauntlet to the chest. Whippoorwill must have decided it was not the young betas time. Corc offered a silent prayer to the totem spirit before a fanged grin made its way onto his face as Aishe proudly showed off her wound. It reminded him of the youngsters showing off their new battle scars. How very Spiral like.

"Looks like you have a lot more gall than any Strider ought ta. Not many would willingly put themselves in line with a Spirals Jaws." He cast a side long glance at his wife before turning his attention back to his unexpected guest. "Obviously I can't go see him. the pack would want to go and some of the more... vicious have their eye on a higher rank and the prestige that comes with it. I know it's a big ask, and I don't really expect you to agree, but can I trust you will keep an eye on Soren until he can make it back to us?"
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by: Aishe
#2135
The alpha was more understanding than Aishe anticipated. Her boasting at home would have earned her a slap and a demand that she humble herself before her elders. Here, it was apparently not only accepted, but anticipated. Spirals lived on the edge of life and death, so any victory over death was a story of their strength. It made sense.

The more she stayed in proximity to Black Spirals, the more she felt herself drawn to them. By no means did she want to renounce Owl, but the Whippoorwill was also a bird of the night, and there was the saying that birds of a feather...well, whatever her draw was, the Spirals had nobody to tell their stories, and she was a storyteller. The attraction was natural.

Aishe smiled in gratitude when Corc commented on her temerity. If he had known her a year previously, he would have laughed at the shy and withdrawing wolf that she'd been. Spending time with Soren had helped her discover her backbone, but she was not about to admit that to Corc. His request, however, she could answer.

"The Silent Striders have pledged service to Soren as part of their tribe-gift for his trial. For as long as I draw breath and as long as I am permitted within your territory, I shall uphold the office and honor of my tribe's pledge."

She placed her right hand on her chest, over her heart and bowed forward slightly. She intoned the formal words of a Strider's oath. Typically, the vow was only spoken when taking up the position of pack storyteller or other formal office that required trust and honor between two members of different tribes.

"By that service do I carry your trust, and by that task, may Owl see me be faithful. If it is our wish, I shall leave immediately to discharge my duties."

Knowing the way back to London meant that her return trip would be faster than the trip here. She had placed herself in Corc's command and as such awaited his order to go or stay.
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