Presence
Primal Urge
Fleet of Foot
The full moon was slowly rising as Bleeds Well patrolled the Tur. In the hisil, Luna was much more than a reflection of the sun, it was light all of its own making. A beacon of purity, a reminder of the Oath.
A familiar smell hit the Urhan nose of Bleeds.
Grandfather?
Months had passed since the two blood related Blood Talons had spoken to one another.
A black wolf, greying around his muzzle, appeared as if suddenly summoned from the shadows.
<Is California making you soft Quinn?>
The younger wolf huffed through his cheeks.
<That named died with that life Grandfather, I am known only by my deed name now.>
A sound like a yip escapes the old wolf's throat. <If I had known you'd take on that name for good, I'd have thought up a better deed name for you. That damn Irraka... The name is ridiculous, no one bleeds well, they just bleed. There is no honor in death, only the actions one takes before they die. Aah, maybe you'll earn a new name, given to you by this new pack of yours. Is it Blessed?>
If Bleeds Well takes offense he doesn't show it. He's heard all this before. <No> he states with more venom than he intended. <We have all of mother's blessings, but too big to be truly blessed, and there is a redeemed among us. She has no moon sign.>
The old wolf, with his many brands of wisdom and glory sits back on his haunches. At this angle it is easy for Bleeds Well to see the brands of Purity on the wolf's chest, one that is much larger, outshines all his other brands combined. <Who says big can't be blessed. If a pack numbered 10 under an Alpha strong enough to keep it together, and had two of each blessing, would it not be doubly blessed? Or does one blessing cancel out a peer?>
Grandfather Wolf stands and begins trotting away. <Follow me, it is time to test you and for you to be judged by the lunes.>
There was a sudden increase in Bleeds Well heart rate as he followed along. He'd hoped this day would come, but unsure he was ready.
Grandfather Wolf lead Bleeds Well to the Sacramento River's edge, in the spirit world the old river was even greater than in the material realm. It's current raged with energy, an old and angry roiling that had stood the test of time. This River had seen millennia before mankind came and built their hovels that would grow to factories, it has been polluted by the herd, twisting its nature with toxins and pollution, it has been cleansed by torrential storms and survived droughts. It has been and will be.
Grandfather Wolf pauses at the edge of the rushing water and calls out, <Icy Depths, are you ready to pay your debt?>
A chill filled the air as a figure bobbed to the surface of the water, like an ice cube floating to the top of a glass of water. It broke through the white caps, slowly rising up, unaffected by current. A ghostly form, it's body simply deep and dark, as if it impossible for light to touch extended a tentacle like appendage towards Bleeds Well.
A voice like cracking ice shook the air, <You wish to sacrifice your kin to my court?>
The spirit did not wait for an answer as it spread itself wide, as if opening a robe, and from within a great mouth sprang forth. Ephemeral teeth of ice, attached to no body, bit at Bleeds Well, but the young wolf was not caught unawares. The midnight black wolf was gone, and in his place stood a hulking giant of a man, hairy and muscled, the Dalu did not fight the spirit with claws and fangs, but struck the ice with crushing force, shattering the teeth one by one in a melee of fury.
Panting, each breath sending out clouds of condensation as the air becomes increasingly chilly, Bleeds Well tries to catch his breath. The world around him grows darker, and darker. He can no longer see his Grandfather, or the River, or the full moon above. He shivers and grows colder, even as he grows the warm coat of the wolf. He lays down, curling in a ball, trying to stay warm. And he's trapped under a blanket of snow, snow that becomes heavier and more suffocating as he tries to move. It's getting harder to breath, the feeling of suffocation growing stronger, even though he knows he is in the shadow, he feels overwhelmed by the need to escape. Rage boils within him as he shifts to Gauru, the Death Rage threatens to over take him as the war form is still not strong enough to bring him to his feet. Through a feat of willpower he staves off the madness and focus, sacrificing his endurance for one massive feat of strength he throws off the weight, shredding Blanket-of-Snow.
5 successes
Bleeds Well shifts out of Gauru, smoothly into Urshul. He turns and growls low, a threat of violence in his voice, <Your court reflects your power Icy Depths. Cold, sharp, and suffocating, like the water beneath a frozen lake.>
An uneasy silence hangs in the air for a moment while the spirit studies the young wolf. <I was going to pull you into my depths and keep you for myself. But you clearly belong to your father.>
Without ceremony, a tentacle is raised and from it shoots an icicle that pierces Bleeds Well's chest. The young wolf gasps thinking it's the cold that takes his breath away, before realizing how badly he's been wounded.
Bleeds Well claws at his chest with suddenly human hands as he loses consciousness and falls to the ground.
Grandfather watches the blood of his grandchild form a pool along the shores of the river, reflecting the light of the full moon into his eyes. He stares, for a long moment, then kneels in hishu, placing his hands on Bleeds Well chest. The wound clots, and the young wolf begins to rapidly heal. Grandfather rocks back with relief as Bleeds Well stir, and begins to chant. As he chants he grows in strength and size, fingernails becoming claw like, tracing a pattern over the fresh pink skin of Bleeds Well's chest. Moonlight growing brighter and more intense. The chanting crescendos and Icy Depths hovers over the pair of Uratha, the full moon now reflecting brightly upon its surface.
<I give you the memory of dragging a prey down into icy depths, receive the Gift of my Death Grip>
Icy Depths sinks back into the water, laughter that sounds like shelves of a breaking glacier fading into the night air, the moon reflected on its surface shatters into a thousand tiny moons. <Debt paid>
Bleeds Well stands, revitalized and gazes into the eyes of his Grandfather, the brightly glowing brands on their chests mirror images .
"Return to your pack Bleeds Well, be a symbol of purity and a living reminder of the Oath they all took. Let all who look upon your brands know that you are Ralunim."
Grandfather turns away from Grandson and two midnight black wolves walk away from each other along the spiritual reflection of the Sacramento river. The moonlight dances on their fur, the brands on their chest glowing so brightly it lights the way for each step they take.
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