Richard looked back, one last time, at the ruins of the caern. This place no longer emanated the strength of the world, instead it reeked of the poisons of the wyrm. For this to have happened, in so short at time, was unthinkable. Yet, it had. Now, in the course of but two moons Richard had lost not only his pack, but the brugh as well. Richard looked at the silver blade in his hands. This is the price of the Klaive of Pyotr Thunderson. I lose my pack on the quest, I was not here to protect the brugh when I was needed. It matters not that the Fomori that committed the desecration are now dead. Vengeance is a bitter solace... and now there is no life for me here. Now, I am Anruth. And I have lost my brothers and sisters of the Pack. What is now my role, my purpose? The others think that death and loss are just the way of Gaia, but I am beginning to believe otherwise. And to have lost the kin... this is too much to bear...

Pyotr, are you there? Why did you lead me away from the Caern? How can I justify the lives of my packmates for your Klaive? Uncharacteristicaly, the spirit of Richard's long ago ancestor did not answer.

Richard slammed the broad silver knife into it's new sheath, and placed it carefully in his black duffel. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he walked away from the once beautiful wooded dale, now the site of the largest 'accidental' spillage of radioactive waste in history.

 

*********************

 

The large black wolf stopped, resting on its haunches. His sharp green eyes burned with an inner fire. It had been a long time, even as wolves measured time, since last he called a place his own. Since he had belonged to the pack. Now the time of wandering was over, the penance for his failure complete. Now he could once again belong, once again find the purpose that the pack gave. This place is clean, compared to many he had seen. And while the city near fairly reeked of the taint, somewhere near there were Garou. Somewhere near there was the kin.

The Howl of Introduction resounded proudly through the countryside: I am Richard Stormheart, get of Anya Ironclaw, Galliard of the Shadow Lords….