06. Cubs.

Each day, I wake in suffering; I struggle to rouse myself from slumber.
I kick the blankets from my bed; I let the cold morning air caress my naked skin.
The fine hairs on my arms prickle; I feel the wheels in my head start to turn.
I stand with eyes closed and I listen-- to the rhythm of the Mother.
Who within me has placed a clockwork lion,  that roars in the beat of its gears.

I turn to face the rising sun, begging the blessings of my patron.
And raise my voice in thanks--
For those who look to me for guidance and wisdom.
It is with them, that I know myself.

Something I wrote earlier ... I'm no Galliard, but I appreciate the rhythm of words and the sound of music.
Ulrich and Dusty have told me, in their words and actions-- that it is the place of the First Tribe to lead. That as a Cliath, I must first learn what that means... and so, I have found my place among more humble means...apprenticed to the great leaders of our sept.

I feel I have found my place at last-- In giving balance to Hutch's temper... in aiding my pack, in safeguarding the cubs from the full reality of what it means to be Garou-- until they are ready to face it on their own... that is what this entry will be about... the cubs.

There is a sadness in the way they look at me, I have seen it in their eyes. I know they wonder why I did not challenge for Den Parent. Why I did not seize the opportunity to lead them solely-- to be their Alpha in the realest sense.

But perhaps I am imagining it.

The truth is, that I wanted to. I dearly wanted to. But what I wanted paled in comparison to what I knew they needed. I only spoke to Gallows as if I intended to challenge so that I could ensure  I would with them in some way.

A Cliath has no business being the Den Parent. I know that quite well. 

I could not hope to defend them if I was constantly defending myself. I could not risk being challenged and losing to one with more experience-- for I am sure there are those who would see me as unworthy.

I am so glad that Gallows was not challenged.  

That it was him, and no one else.

I could not bear to see them in the hands of someone who does not know them, 

does not care for them, does not understand them, as I do. 

Too often, a Den parent forgets that he or she was once a cub. Too often, our memories truncate, when we are faced with how short and brutal our lives often are. We become disillusioned, jaded, and bitter-- and we take it out on the weak out of some misguided idea that they must be made hard.

I do not want this for them. What I want, is to see them come into themselves from a place of true strength. I want to see them united, to see them work, sleep, and breathe as a unit. I want them to wake and take heart, knowing that they will one day be great warriors, and heroes of Gaia.

But to do that, I must first help Gallows to shape them into Garou. It is difficult, because they knew me as someone else.  They knew me as one of them. As their Alpha. I cannot allow them to be more loyal to me than to their den parent... and so I must make it so they will not like me. I must be the one that they will not prefer to see.

They will think I have betrayed them, that I no longer see them as my little brothers and sisters.  

That I am not there to reassure them.

They must never know the truth.

That I will be with them always, that my heart goes with them into their trials

... and far more than it aught to. 

That I will be the first to champion their causes and hopes, and the first to fall in their defense.

That I wish I could be more for them, because they mean so much to me.

When they return from their rites.... I will howl the loudest for their victory.
When they are grown and the Galliards sing of their tales,
my spirit shall sing along with them-- uplifted in knowing that they have done well.

I will never forget that night by the fire, when Lyle spoke to me of his sadness. How I longed to tend his sorrows then-- to hold him in my arms until he hung his head no more. I did not care that he was a Bone Gnawer... nor that I was not his Den Parent.  All I knew, was that I wanted to be there.

And I relented, the tiniest bit. 

I placed my hand on his shoulder, which was all I could bring myself to do... 

and I let him rest his  head  on my leg.

Going to Unicorn's Glade used to be dudgery. I used to feel trapped there... like it was more a prison to me than a home... but now? Now it is a place of happiness. Nothing compares to the pride I feel when I see them lined up in the morning, nothing compares to the sorrow I feel when I see them make a misstep-- knowing that I must correct them.

My darling cubs, there are so few I would give so much for, short of my pack, my Caern, and the Mother herself. When you look to me for guidance, when you show me that you need me... I am forever glad of it. Because you remind me of what it is to be a leader. Because you are a part of what holds me together when my outlook is bleak.

Forgive me for being so rough with you. Forgive me for demanding and pushing and snapping at your heels when you step out of line...

Forgive me, for doing as I feel I must.

Forgive me 

 By remembering all that Gallows and I can give to you... because... of all Garou, 

there is no one who loves you more.

05. Promises

When you join a pack, you make a promise-- not only to the totem spirit, but to those who accept you. To fight, and die, and bleed alongside them as if they were your brothers and sisters. To serve their causes and support their dreams. To guard their values, their secrets-- to know them as you know yourself. You don't join it because you have something to gain. You don't join it because you want to be with your friends. You join it because of its purpose. You join it because you feel in your heart that it is the right thing to do.

Our packmates are greater than family, because we get to choose them.

They share our values and convictions-- our joys and sorrows.

Brothers in arms, and brothers in mind...

...The day you ceased to call me "sister" was the day my heart was cleft..

A true Garou does not fear death, but accepts it as an inevitability. A true Silverfang welcomes the challenge with zeal. Because it is in facing death that he remains fit to lead. He suffers for those who look to him, and in so doing he earns the right to lead. He keeps his word, remembers every promise...

My Alpha says I will not hold grudges, and for obvious reasons, I want to follow this order. I want to,desperately--

for there is nothing I would not do for him if he but asked it of me. 

Yet, strangely, I find that I cannot. I cannot, in the present time, forgive you for leaving.

For breaking your word. 

For using my pack, my family, to what seems to be your own ends. 

... for giving me the hope... hope that others of my kind might have thought the same way...

... and then, abandoning me.

...The day you ceased to call me "sister" was the day my heart was cleft. 

I am so sorry, Gareth. I hate to think of you this way. I hate questioning your resolve, your motivations. I hate holding you at arm's length, when I should be embracing you-- I can never express, never show you, how pleased I was when you joined me. I can never tell you how happy it made me to have a Gleaming Eye, one of my very own, choose to stand alongside me. I can never express the sadness I feel in knowing that it meant nothing to you, in return.

I hoped...I hoped for so much more than this... 

Dreamed that perhaps in you, I might have found someone...

Someone who would join me in this hair-brained quest for redemption.

Yes, I hoped.  I hoped, and that was my folly. Putting faith in one who would ultimately betray it.  I have run the scenario through my head a thousand times, and then a thousand more. Looking for signs, for reasons.... and I believe I have found some answers.

But I haven't found them all.

Just tell me why. Why did you break your word? Was the lure of power, of your vision, too great, for you to preserve the bonds of brotherhood? What foul scheme has caused your heart to turn, to change as the night's evanescent celestine?

I wonder... has the one who walks with heavy footsteps convinced you I am unworthy?
This is not like you. This is not what you showed me. Not what I wanted to believe.

But I suppose it is what it is.

I can understand the Glasswalkers not holding a grudge. I can understand them forgiving you. That is their way-- they do not see things quite the same as we do. It makes no difference to them whether or not another Silver Fang is in the pack or not. They have others. Others who understand their pains and their struggles. Others like them.
.. But, I do not.

When I am reasonable... I know that I do not hate you for what you did. I know that my disappointment comes from a place of sorrow-- and that despite it all, I want the best for you, I want you to be happy. It is simply that this, all of this... makes it so hard to move on from all that has happened in recent days. It makes the guilt I feel all the more difficult to bear, it makes caring all the more arduous.

Brother, I cannot help but feel that I have failed you most of all... 

and I cannot help but wish I still had you here.

the day you ceased to call me sister, was the day my heart was cleft.

04. Kings

I remember my father as a distant, stormy man. He had long, straight hair that fell over his shoulders, fair as sunlight, and deep eyes the color of moss-eaten stones. His high cheekbones were so striking that they would have made his face look gaunt were it not for a solid, square jaw, and a stubborn chin which always made him look dour. 

I was told that he was born in Auvergne, and that he grew up in a small fishing villiage by the cold sea. His father died when he was very young-- a casualty of war-- and he returned with his mother to Latvia, where he lived until he was seventeen or eighteen.

I do no know where he went after that, or by what means he returned to France. All I know, is that he must have been there by the time he was 26, because that is when he met my mother, the late Ambassador Emmauldine Yvette Delacourt.

I am the daughter of Arnaud Defresne, a businessman whose exact tradings were kept a secret from even my mother. He was a clever man, far too clever-- who had a penchant for breaking the unjust rules and replacing them with his own, more equitable versions.  Rare was the occasion we spent together, a fact which made every moment significant.

One day, during a chess game, he asked me why I played so aggressively. And so I told him, "papa, if I do not act quickly, then I will not win against you."

He smiled, and then placed his hand on the king. He was playing black, and I, White.

He always played black. I think... because he knew I liked to go first.

Or maybe he preferred to lay in wait.

To strike from behind, 

as was his way.

"It is the king who wins the game, my daughter" he said to me.
"But when does he ever venture onto the front lines?"

"Never--" I said. "because he is vulnerable, and his mobility is limited."

"I see why you think that." He said, firmly but fondly. "but you are only half right, dear child.-- look."

He moved his bishop into place, and ended the game... for my king had nowhere left to move. It was a cruel thing he did. Like a cat playing with a hapless mouse who had no defense against it.

"Yes his mobility is limited. You are right, in that. But you see, if he could move anywhere, he would have no use for a knight, a queen, or a castle. A king..." and he said this, looking deep into my eyes.

"A king is but one man. He cannot do everything, cannot know everything. Sometimes he can defend himself. But more often than not... "

his fingers wrapped around the white queen, and he slid it across the board, such that it placed the dark king in peril. A move that would have won me the game, had I seen it but a moment earlier.

"He must rely on those he trusts to stand beside him... in this way, even the small can defeat the mighty. In this way, he is strong."

He looked at me knowingly, and I wondered in that moment if perhaps he saw something coming that I did not.


"Remember this, ma fille... ce n'est pas important avant qui l'on se tient ... c'est ceux qui se tiennent devant l'on."

He got up then, and left, placing his hand on my head before he disappeared into his study, and closed the door. Without looking back, he never looked back. And I sat there, staring at the board.

It is not important who you stand in front of.

It is who you have standing behind you.

A leader who thinks too much of himself risks more than he knows-- for in doing so, he makes himself a target. To fight and die for glory and honor is one thing... but to die for lack of wisdom is entirely another.  A leader knows how to curry favor. To be equitable, to bleed and die along with his people-- to be reliable in times of strife and peril. But he also knows that without wisdom, honor and glory are nothing.
 
I am but one. I cannot be all. But for the sake of my people, for the sake of my tribe... for the loves and loyalties of my fellows-- I shall have others, to be my eyes.

You may walk with heavy feet-- and speak in harsh tones.
Break my back upon the yoke of dishonor.

But in doing so, you are forgetting that it is the station of frail things to confound the strong.

And Pride goes before the fall.