Hospitality [Kora, Roman, Frost]

[Roman Turner] It had been a couple of days since the carnival episode. In that time he had spent a great deal of his time resting in the Pack House in Lupus. Now, still a little tender he was out in the open on the front porch of the old church. And despite the hour, he had a coleman lantern set up and was hammering away on the door frame. Nearby a radio played and he sang along as he hammered.

[Gwen Sullivan] Without a pack house in which to claim solitude from society, Gwen had fed some phony lie to her parents about going out of town for a couple of days and spent a night and a half at the Caern wearing fur instead of clothes, waiting for her wounds to stitch up. She'd gained some more while there in a show of dominance and a lesson of life, but those had healed much faster, which surprised and confused her some. She'd have to better study the mechanics of her own healing system and all the types of abuse it could take.

She needed out, though. Apples and beef jerky didn't cut it, and a crotchety Lupus had eaten what was left of her jerky. So she ventured out past the Bawn and caught a bus, heading up to a part of town where her parents wouldn't ever hunt for her, intending to bum some money off a friend who lived in the area, enough for a solid meal (or she could just invade their kitchen for a half an hour or so before disappearing into the mysticism of the abandoned dockyard again).

She turned a corner, unknowing of the fact that she was in fact venturing through another pack's territory. She didn't know how to look for the markers that declared it such yet, though she did understand the law against trespass just fine. This turn put her on the sidewalk that passed in front of the church, which she had intended to blow right by on her way to the Odewell residence. She wore a faded blue zip-up hoodie with the hood up about her face, fire-engine red bangs visible by how they hung out from under the hood to curtain over her left eye. A pair of black yoga pants and some plain, inexpensive sneakers were on her feet.

She'd glance up toward the porch, toward the loud blast of radio combined with the thumping of a hammer against a nail against the wood of a doorframe, expecting it to be only that-- a curious glance-- before moving on, but instead she paused when the back and profile of the figure fit with someone lodged into recent memory, and with memory as sharp as hers (photographic, downright, truly), she didn't have to second guess herself. She stopped, and she called out, though perhaps it might not be enough to be heard over the radio:

"Roman?"

[Roman Turner] "And so began my love affair with water."

He was in the middle of the refrain, singing with the radio when he thought he heard his name. His head cocked, that stetson was pushed back with the end of the hammer and slowly he turned till he spotted Gwen down there on the sidewalk. It was enough to bring a welcoming smile and have him leaning over to turn down the radio, tuning down Brad Paisley.

"Well lookee there. Boy howdy, Miss Gwen, watcha doing out in the cold? Come on up."

He waved her up on the porch with that same hammer.

[Gwen Sullivan] She glanced up the sidewalk in the direction she had been going, briefly, before accepting the offer and moving up the walkway to the front porch of the church. Her hands were jammed into the roo pocket of her zip-up hoodie, and she walked with steps that were heavy without being loud-- she walked as though she was on the end leg of a very long journey home.

She stopped at the second step up onto the porch and moved a hand free so that she could scratch at her forehead with fingernails that had only faint chips of that flame red nailpolish she'd been wearing at the carnival left on them, then tucked her bangs away from her eyes as she spoke.

"Hey." That was her greeting, it was followed immediately by: "Renovations? I heard that the Children of Gaia were big on love and peace, but I didn't think you'd be out doing community service for a church or anything."

[Roman Turner] "Dang if ya don't look like I'm forcing ya to come up the steps. Ain't my intentions Miss Gwen."

He commented on the posture she presented and deliberately turned his back to her in a long look at the church, head tilting back. When he looked back it was to smile gently to her. He was sixteen going on sixty, that's what his Ma said on his 16th birthday. Faded demin colored eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when he smiled.

"Ain't community service Miss Gwen. There here is my home. It's where we live."

[Gwen Sullivan] She blinked, thinking a second about what he said about her looking like she was being dragged up the steps against her will, then looked down at her own slightly hunched posture before revelation hit. She popped her lower lip ring out from between her teeth and shook her head with a faint one-sided grin on her metal-decorated mouth. "No, no, I'm just kinda worn out. Still healing up a little." She gestured to her left side, under her ribs, where he'd remember a livid blood-seeping gash down her side that she'd taken off with. "It's pretty much gone now, but still aches a bit."

With that explanation left in the air, she looked up at the church while he surveyed it, then down at him again when he said it was where they lived.

"We? We who?"

[Roman Turner] "Me, Miss Kora and my cousin Sparrow. It's our home now."

That still felt wrong sometimes and in truth if not for Kora and Sparrow, it would not feel like a home to him. Home was Kansas and family. He tilted the hat back further as he considered her and chestnut colored hair showed along with a faint line near his hairline where the hat normally shaded him from the sun. He had purplish mottled skin showing along one side of his neck, peeking out from his color where the flesh had burned off a couple months back.

"You know, where my pack lives?"

Prodding her slightly with a lifting of his brows.

[Kora] The place is old, long-abandoned, the wind storm blew half the leaves from the trees that have grown up around it leaving more of the stacked stone back to the night. A hint of light from within is visible, seeping through the round stained glass windows set high in the facade. We who - says Gwen, and the wood-banded front doors open just enough for a lean blonde woman to slip out. Head hidden inside a cotton hoodie, hands tucked firmly in the front pockets, her frame set against the cold. Other layers are visible beneath - and old white thermal and a black cotton tee over jeans, faded at the thighs and knees, tuckd don into calf-high Dr. Marten's.

The hoods up; a few wisps of blond hair peak around her face, which is shadowed except where the light pools at her cheekbone and jawline. Kora glances from Roman, to Gwen, back to Roman. "Hey." Kora says to Gwen.

Who's your friend? she asks Roman, along the shared totemic connection.

[Gwen Sullivan] "Uh. Sure."

She apparently didn't get much detail in the 'pack' talk. She didn't know that they all lived together, though she wasn't too surprised by the concept, it certainly made plenty of sense. What didn't make much sense, though, was taking shelter in an old church. Could no one cough up the rent for anything different?

It was as she was contemplating this that the tall blonde woman appeared, dressed likewise in a hoodie and jeans, common apparel when the temperature floated between the forties and the fifties all day long. Gwen sniffed a little, watching Kora with eyes that soaked up, memorized, and examined all at once with the bald and open curiosity of someone who didn't know of any excuse to hide the fact that she did so.

Hey, was the greeting.
"Hey," was the return.

Her shoulders, arms, and chest trembled from the cold, in a way that suggested that she wasn't paying attention to the chill anymore but her body didn't forget. The zipper of her faded hoodie wasn't pulled up completely, and what showed underneath was bare chest, indicative either of a very low-cut shirt underneath or, possibly, none at all.

[Roman Turner] He answered Kora so Gwen could hear him too.

"Miss Kora, this here is Miss Gwen. Met her the other night at the Carnival of freaks when I took your brother Linus with me and Simon to see if it was the same one from before. She fought with us. Miss Gwen, this here is my Alpha, Miss Kora, the Jarl of the Fenrir Tribe here in the city."

[Kora] "The cub, right?" the creature's dark eyes touch on her younger packmate's briefly, then turn back to Gwen. The light out here is uncertain, that ugly amber color that makes the city glow, shed by the sodium-vapor streetlights. Those kept in reasonable repair, in any case. Few and far between in this neighborhood.

"It's Kora," she clarifies, cutting through Roman's southern politeness. " - just Kora. In the Sept where I fostered, the kin called me Kora Eyjólfsdóttir, when formality was required. she who offers sorrow to the Nation, Skald," this is all offered quietly, with a sort of rhythm, a sort of moving intensity to the words. Her eyes are on Gwen the whole time. " - and cliath," wry, " - and Jarl, as Roman said, of the Fenrir in Chicago."

That wry look lingers on her mouth as she jerks her head toward the interior of the Church. "Come on in." A glance at Roman. " - we've got Chinese food."

[Roman Turner] "Ya know, I like chinese food, but I swear it makes me drink a gallon of water."

He stepped back and made room for Gwen to enter the church, removing his hat before he entered himself.

[Gwen Sullivan] "Yeah," she responded when the clarification was made of the cub, right? with a grim facade of a smile. "That's what I'm hearing."

There wasn't much of a handshaking habit amongst the Garou, she'd noticed. It was a rattling off of positions and ranks and curt nods of acceptance, occasionally respect, before moving right along with daily business. She didn't have a tribe to offer, but she knew her Auspice. She didn't have a deed name either, though, and no pack to say that she was a member of. So she just went with 'Gwen' for now, it was easiest.

"Right, good to meet you."

At the mention of food, Gwen very nearly jumped upon the opportunity. She smiled and nodded, thanking her in a voice that, as a standard rule, always seemed slightly raspy, like either she'd already smoked entirely too much or as though she were some sex symbol from the 1920's. "That'd be great, thanks. Fire Claws ate all my jerky, that was supposed to last me 'till Saturday."

She accepted the invitation and stepped inside when Roman offered her room, removing his hat before entering behind her as well. Her hands stayed in her pockets, and she glanced to Kora once inside. "Excuse my being a greenhorn, but... What's 'Jarl'?"

[Kora] "Well," Kora says, " - if Fire Claws ate all your jerky, I'd be wrong not to offer you hospitality in return. You can come here to eat, when you want. There's usually dinner, and breakfast. There's always beer, or water. Or, if you want something hot, the folks at the Brotherhood always have a spare plate for Garou."

The inside of the place is both more magnificent and more desolate than the outside. There's a sense of height here. That's why they built churches - small cathedrals - like this, to remind the earthbound of the soaring promise of heaven. Light shines through the still-intact stained glass windows, cutting intricate patterns of light on the stone floor.

A couple of pews, some new throw pillows, an old bean bag chair are scattered around, in the sheltered area underneath the choir loft. Two or three salvaged tables, and a ceramic heater or two complete the hall immediatly inside the church. Beyond the choir loft, the roof opens up. There's a near straight shot down the long nave toward the chancel, and although the altar is long gone, there are icons painted in a sort of dim fresco pattern on the walls behind. It wasn't an orthodox church, so whoever did those came after.

True to her word, Kora has provided Chinese food. She grabs a white carton full of kung pao chicken, a pair of chopsticks, and a bottle of water and pulls up a chair.

"Jarl," Kora says when she is settled, this contemplative note to her voice. " - it's Norse for Earl, yeah? You can hear that correspondence, can't you? and it means: Lord. For Fenrir, it means, leader of the tribe in a protectorate, protector of the kin and the unpacked Garou. Alpha of the tribe, make sense?"

[Roman Turner] He looked even younger when he smiled genuinely. And that smile grew even wider when he smelled food. His hat was placed next to the bean bag chair when he dropped in to it with a whoosh on impact. Jean clad legs stretched out with the heel of his boots resting on the floor.

"So Miss Gwen, one of your folks a True born or are they Kinfolk?"

[Gwen Sullivan] She'd follow Kora into the church, eyes not so much wandering as memorizing, skimming all corners of the room both so that she would know them for later (just in case) and looking out for boogeymen, or more likely here, other Garou, perhaps this 'Sparrow' that Roman had mentioned, so that they didn't sneak up and startle her. That wicked gash in her side was predominantly healed, but she didn't want to jerk funny and rip it back open, she was rather hoping to be able to return home tomorrow and get herself a proper shower and to sleep in her bed again. The blankets on the Caern ground had sufficed, but the rain was far from pleasant.

Whatever was offered to Gwen she'd accept with a mumbled thanks, and then eat like she hadn't had a proper meal since the Carnival, which was about right. Not to say that she was outstandingly sloppy, but she didn't take her time or leave much room between bites for conversation.

She did find time to ask, though: "Are there many Get of Fenris here?"

[Gwen Sullivan] Roman's question got a glance and a small crease of a frown between her eyebrows, of thought, before she answered with chewed food tucked into her cheek so it didn't show when she spoke.

"One of them must be, but I don't think they know it."

[Roman Turner] "Huh. I heard things like that happen from time to time."

He had grabbed a box with noodles and had his head tilted back as he tried to feed a long noodle in to that open maw using chopsticks. More often than not he ended up with noddle hitting his face.

"Ya know, that Brotherhood Miss Kora mentioned? They got rooms there too, if ya need a place to sleep. But Sparrow tells me to keep clear of there, says I'll end up in trouble or something hairbrained like that."

[Kora] "There used to be more," returns Kora, desleeving her chopsticks with a tap, then pulling them the rest of the way out and splitting the pair, frowning at the imperfect cut. " - some died, others left. And others have come back, but there have been Fenrir pledged to Maelstrom since the Caern was raised. Two of our kin and at last one true-born died in the raising, and more than that have bled and died for Maelstrom in the years since."

Chopsticks poised over the box, she watches Gwen eat, this close attention in the shadows, not missing the subtle shifts of expression on her features. "My first change was a surprise to me," watching, here. " - fucking insane. You get used to it, though. Are you from around here?"

[Roman Turner] "First change? Mine was wilder than any 8 second ride. I told Sparrow if she could do it, I could and sure enough, it happened. She was madder than a cat in a wet sack for a month!"

He chuckled.

[Frost] Outside a black sedan pulls up and a tall blonde in levis and sheepskin coat steps out. She walks around to the back and pops the trunk of the car, pulling a big box out and tossing it on the ground a moment to close the trunk. She hefts the box and heads towards the church, industrial boots clumping on the wooden steps leading to the door. There's a knock if the door is closed, before she pokes her head in and says, "Hello?"

[Gwen Sullivan] She looked between the two as they spoke, and she nodded when Roman mentioned rooms at a place called The Brotherhood, straightening up from where she was stooped over her food so she didn't splash down the front of her sweatshirt and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before she answered.

"Nah, I'm living with my parents. Still in school and everything, and I can't just leave them, you know? It'd break their hearts if I vanished. I figure I'll graduate then do the whole 'leave the nest' thing."

The mention of First Change was brought up, and her gaze was solemn on Kora at relating the fact that hers had been a surprise to her as well. She tapped her teeth on her lip piercing before looking over to Roman when he spoke up, changing what was a bloody, drastic, gut-wrenching experience into a funny family anecdote, one that even had Gwen chuckling a bit and eating a little more. "'Fucking insane' is a good way of putting it. ...Honestly makes me a little sick still to remember it."

She duffed the hood of her sweater off her head, finally, to show that her hair was in bad need of a wash, but had been tied back with an elastic band to keep off her neck and face (save for those bangs). She might have said more, but she was stilled when a voice called out 'Hello' from the front. Shoulders tightened some and her eyes cut toward the direction of the voice.

This wasn't her territory to protect, but after having been ripped open with claws and fangs not once but twice in the span of a few days she wasn't about to let her guard drop to nothingness anytime soon.

[Kora] There's a lantern on inside, the glow of a heater, the sound of voices augmented by the space inside the church, those high ceilings, those flying buttresses. The doors are closed, though not quite all the way, and when Frost knocks, the door swings open a little further.

The hinges, despite the age of the place, do not squeak.

"Hey - " says Kora, tipping her head to peer at the door. The hood falls away from her head with the gesure, and while Gwen is still, tense with the wariness that comes more naturally after such an ordeal, Kora's alert but easy. "Frost. C'mon in. There's Chinese if you're hungry." Looking back at the tense cub, " - Kin, Fenrir." A hook-curve smile, like the next was a rather delightful little secret. Maybe a hint of pride, too, for the blood in the woman's veins. "FBI agent, too."

- a glance back t Gwen, then, a sweeping look, aware, alert. " - how long until you graduate?"

[Roman Turner] He was up out of that bean bag chair like someone had stuck him in the ass with an electric cattle prod. Only Kora's familiarity with the stranger stopped Roman from launching for the door and new arrival. Frost? What the hell kind of name was Frost? First a Swan and now a Frost and if you asked him, they should of all been Coggie with names like that. All this went through his head as he stood stiff as a board, all his focus on the stranger.

[Frost] Ah, Kora's home, good. She steps inside, pushing the door closed with one foot behind her, then lugs the big box over and plops it down out of the way. "Thought you might need some extra blankets," she says to Kora. "Got a half dozen electric ones and some of those space blankets in there too. Hello Ringo," she says to Roman, her eyes playing over him, noting the tenseness. "Playing to a tough crowd?" A nod to the girl.

[Gwen Sullivan] She was pretty sure it was a Valkyrie walking through the door, the woman was ridiculously tall, perfectly blonde, and she could tell her eyes were going to be blue even in the dim lighting and from this distance. She glanced to Kora, noted the proud smile, and clipped her canine teeth against the skin at the corner inside her mouth before nodding, and finishing off her portion of the offered food and once more wiping her mouth with her hand, which in turn was wiped on the thigh of her yoga pants.

"I'll have enough credits to graduate early come the end of December," she informed Kora, then looked up to Frost when she addressed Gwen as a third party, asking if someone was playing to a 'tough crowd', Gwen being that 'tough crowd', as far as she interpreted.

She quirked one eyebrow, brown despite the obvious (fake) red of her hair, and corrected her in a voice that wasn't self-aware enough to be sultry, and so was merely a touch raspy instead. "It's Gwen, actually."

[Frost] She gives Gwen a smile and offers a gloved hand. Frost, but actually I meant him." Tilting her head towards Roman. "He and his friend tried to convince me they were Beetles the first time we met."

[Roman Turner] For the life of him he couldn't recall having met Frost, nor who the friend was he was with when the incident happened. So the look on his face was both confused and sheepish. God help him, he must of drank too much.

[Gwen Sullivan] "Mmm."

That's about all that she really had to say when this Detective Frost woman assured her that the 'tough crowd' was actually Roman. This caused Gwen to glance back over at the Coggie, to study his stiff-like-a-board stance, and that prompted her to wonder if that's what she had looked like when she heard the door and the voice.

Maybe they were all just wolves after all? She accepted the offered hand with fingers that were stiff and cold like ice, squeezed and gave a brief shake, then those hands sought out a bottle of water to uncap and get a drink from.

[Frost] She sees the blank look on Roman's face and arches a brow. "You were drunk." A hint a quirk finds her lips. "You don't remember singing?"

[Roman Turner] "I'm sorry Ma'am. That must of been some horrible caterwauling if ya remember it and I must of had far too much to drink. I hope I didn't drive home."

[Frost] And since Kora offered, she drags whatever is available as a chair and helps herself to some Chinese. "Makes ya wonder what else you might have done that night, doesn't it?"

[Roman Turner] "Sure does and with whom."

Maybe he'd received a blow to his head and lost his memory? One thing was certain, he had a crease between his brows and the bulk of his attention was focused on the woman he was suppose to know.

[Kora] "Cheers," says Kora back to Frost, dark eyes lingering on the other woman, " - that's brilliant, thanks." There's a sort of sincerity that is clear in her voice. She doesn't wait compliments, and does not waste her thanks. The intensty lingers, mouth curving with a sort of underlying pleasure. "C'mon in."

Then Kora shoots a look back to Roman, " - you serenaded Imogen with a bad version of here comes the sun. She corrected your lyrics. Frost, that's my packmate Roman, and this is Gwen, who's still figuring out what she's going to be someday soon, yeah?" Pointing with her chopsticks, Kora indicates the table, " - beer's in the cooler under the table."

Quiet then, Kora studies Gwen's profile against the shadows of the church, her mouth still, her eyes moving over the girl's features. "December, eh?" Her expression is neutral again, still and a bit shrewd, her frame incising a curve in the right ankle of the old pew in which she sits. "I'm not sure high school is the wisest place for a Garou. Especially one still learning control. Are you sure your parents don't know their heritage? Maybe they've just concealed it from you. Hoping they could protect you from the War, or something like it."

[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen's eyes hopped from one blonde (the Kinfolk) to another (the Jarl) and rested there, studious chips of green-gray that were alert and intelligent, but not truly, abnormally so. You couldn't see the gears of her mind whirling away at a million miles per hour, but you did know that she would understand what you had to say and have an intelligent remark to follow along after it.

The water bottle dropped from her lips, her chin leveled out when she was finished drinking, and she screwed the lid back on before kicking the chair back so she was balancing on the back two legs, foot hooked under the table she sat at so that she wouldn't fall over.

"Yeah, no, I know what you're saying... I've already been suspended and it's only just switched into the second semester." She tapped a fingernail against the upper lip ring, called 'the medusa' by kids that wanted to give it a name, and shook her head. "I really don't think they do," she concluded. "They've never, y'know.. made any attempts to shelter me from anything. I honestly think they just don't know, otherwise they probably should've figured it out by now, put the pieces together, and said something to me... don't you think?"

[Frost] Nods a you're welcome and puts futons on the mental list. That stone floor has got to be cold to sleep on even with an electric blanket. Linus can be in charge of finding throw pillows. She leans over and snags a beer, then peeks in a paper bag for another set of chop sticks, snapping them apart and digging into the noodly mass she's piled on her paper plate. She listens to Gwen's tale, glancing at the girl as she describes her situation.

[Roman Turner] It was something Kora said that finally sparked a little bit of a memory. He had sang to Imogen, of course he couldn't recall what happened after that either. It wasn't long before he was making some excuse about why he needed to leave. Snagging his hat he waved to the women and took himself out of the Hen Party so he could work on the puzzle of his far from perfect memory.

[Frost] Her eyes track Roman as he flounders about over the night they met and then tucks metaphorical tail and retreats. Predictably blue eyes glimmer in amusement, but the girl's tale is what has her attention at the moment. It's almost unimaginable to her, the impact of learning you're garou could have on your life, your plans for the future, you career even. What if she'd caught just a little more of the blood and had gone all furry during her training at Quantico?

[Kora] "Denial's a pretty powerful thing," the low thread of Kora's voice is a counterpoint to the back and forth between Frost and Roman over his lost evening. The hood is mostly off, now, and her pale hair catches the light, glows in the darkness. There's a certain messy ease to the style, pulled back from her face, twisted and secured against its own weight. " - my mother's Fenrir kin, with two true-born children. I started having dreams of the past when I was - a kid, really, but she was so - well, " a pause here, quiet, musing on the word, the idea, without allowing herself to inger in the past.

" - you know your folks better than I will. I'll leave that to you. Might tell them you'd prefer to get a GED, though. Or, finish up over the internet if you see more incidents in your future. Hard not to, really. At least if you get into a fight at the Caern, you know you're fighting with Garou who know what you are. When the moon's full, it's worse for everyone, but even on your own moon you're vulnerable to - well, rage, if not frenzy, over the smallest of slights."

[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen nodded, and again it was a heavy, solemn thing. It looked out of place, this kind of serious demeanor on a teenager with ridiculous hair color and piercings in her face. She looked like she should be sprawled out on someone's couch in a basement, watching a marathon of Aliens and smoking a joint with a few buddies, maybe making the occasional trip to 7-11 for snacks and energy drinks.

This was what being a Garou did, though. It took everything you were 'supposed to be' and turned it into something entirely different, whether you like it or not. Gwen, personally, couldn't say that she liked it, exactly, but she wasn't going to reject what she was. She called it 'taking life with a grain of salt'.

"I get ya, I do. I figure what I need to work out is living arrangements and income... Where I'm gonna go and how I'm gonna survive without my folks's income, you know? Until then the high school is really just an umbrella for me to stay there."

She paused, frowned at how flimsy her own argument was, then sighed, shook her head, and massaged the bridge of her nose with two fingers. "I know how it sounds. It's just... a fuck of a lot, right? I'm still figuring it out."

[Frost] She swirls her noodles, listening to the exchange. Learning. How will the girl support herself? If her formal education ends at a GED she'll never have much. The lessons her father taught her regarding the importance of kin and their role in keeping the social structure functioning suddenly meets reality in her mind.

[Kora] "The more you get used to being Garou," they are sitting in an abandoned church, the soaring ceilings, the warmth from the ceramic heater radiating out, chasing away the chill that settles around them, the cold night outside, the promise of winter on the horizon. There are long shadows inside, the roof of the choir loft 10 or 12 feet above them gives the space the illusion of intimacy, before it opens up beyond. Talking, now, rather than eating, Kora glances from Gwen to Frost. " - the less you will be concerned about supporting yourself in the human world."

The creature's dark eyes linger on the kinswoman then, watching the shift of the FBI agent's expression as she swirls the noodles in that little white box. "Maybe the Glass Walkers can keep a human job, but for the rest of us, the war take primacy. Believe it or not - " a faint twist of her mouth, " - my mother still deposites a few dollars in my old bank account every month. My mate works. This is what I do. Maybe you could find some sort of menial work, day labor if you're keen on it - but mostly, we rely on our kin to support us."

Here, a brief gance back at Gwen. "It's a thankless job, I think, being kin. Requires a different sort of courage, beyond the physical."

[Kora] (gah! it's midnight, guys. I need to get to bed a bit earlier tonight. I hadn't realized how late it was. Forgive me if I beg off? )
to Frost, Gwen Sullivan

[Gwen Sullivan] She nodded, slowly, while listening to Kora. Money came from family, from Kinfolk. They existed not just to propagate the race, but to be there for the Garou. Without Kinfolk, they would disconnect from human society altogether, live out in the woods and away from human view, rarely donning their human skin, forgetting a half of them, forgetting why they protect humans, and perhaps most drastically they'd be displaced from the heart of the war.

She contemplated this, twisting a strand of hair from her loose bangs as she mused aloud. "Parents, so you do need to keep contact with them..." And, a separate thought... "How do you have Kin without a Tribe..."

She sniffed, she'd have to find one sooner than later.

Dark along with chill settled, and patrols had to be made by the Pack, and Gwen needed rest in another body in order to finish healing. She would spend the night if the space was offered up, and if such was the case she would sleep where indicated, in Lupus, with her clothes removed and folded nearby. She didn't know the Rite to dedicate them. Maybe one day she'd learn that.

That particular list, of things to learn, was ten miles long.