Three-Blades dozes atop the haypile, ears erect though asleep as if she were perpetually awake.

Christopher opens the door to the Barnyard and peeks his head inside. He looks around for a few moments, then walks into the barn; shutting the door behind him. He then grins slightly taking notice of the wolf sleeping on top of the haypile. "Hello Yi."

Three-Blades flicks an ear, but her eyes remain closed and she keeps right on sleeping. The cub's entrance hasn't made her stir much.

Christopher smirks slightly and moves over to the Haystack. He then lays down one of the sides in front of Yi, with his arms folded behind his head. "How can you sleep out here. It's freezing cold. You don't want to come into the warm house?"

Three-Blades pricks both ears forward, and golden amber eyes open to gaze down at the cub. Warm here, on the hay, she replies with a grunt and a shift in her curl. Fur is warmer than skin. She lifts her head up to gaze at the cub from the top of the haypile, and yawns.

Christopher grins and flips over onto his stomach. "I really need to get my clothes deticated so I can shift without having to worry about tearing them to shreds. Do you know who I can ask?

~Clothes?~ The Gnawer in lupus tilts an ear off to the side thoughtfully. Ask elders. Ask ~cliaths~. You want those clothes you wear now?

Christopher shakes his head. "Well, not these clothes. Hopefully. I can find something a bit more stylish and better fitting than the clothes I'm wearing now."

Three-Blades whuffles, ears flicking. Should be lucky, you have warmth around you. She stands up and hops off the pile, stretching out and shaking the dust off her fur. Turning her head, she lowers down to the haunches and yawns again, fangs glistening as she does. Her tongue swipes over her nose momentarily and she eyes the cub. Are you allowed out yet?

Christopher shrugs his shoulders. "I think so. I guess I am allowed out as long as I go with a cliath or higher."

Are you sure? Three-Blades whuffs dubiously. Runs-at-Dawn has taken you out before though, yes? She glances towards the door of the barn, then back at the cub.

Christopher shakes his head. "Not yet."

At this, Three-Blades quirks her head confusedly. Did he not wake you to run with him when the sun rose? He said he runs over the bawn every morning.

Christopher nods. "Yeah, but I thought you ment outside of the bawn. You know like to the city or something."

Three-Blades meant out of the farmhouse and its territory. She pads around the cub, sort of inspectingly but not appraisingly the way an army general would. Stopping again in front of him, she sits back down. What do you do, in the day? As much as I enjoy the warmth in this place, there is still the feeling of stretching one's legs. Do you know why your elders have not allowed you out of the farmer's den yet?

Christopher shakes his head. "I don't really know. I haven't bothered asking them."

Three-Blades takes a moment to scratch at an itch, then settles again. What will you do, when you are let out?

Christopher blinks at the question and ponders on it for a moment. "Well..I.. I really don't know. I was hoping I could get some money together and buy some clothes for myself to wear. Something suitable for the winter."

How do you expect to do that? Three-Blades whuffs questioningly.

Christopher speaks up. "Well..I..." He then sighs and shakes his head. "I really have no idea what I want to do when I get out on my own."

Three-Blades sinks down to her belly, tail flicking occassionally. Do you know of the Curse?

Christopher quirks an eyebrow. "The Curse?"

Three-Blades flattens her ears back momentarily, then swings them forward. You do not know of the Curse. She almost shakes her head in a very human like manner, but simply flicks her tail to one side. It is why not many of the Garou cannot work with twolegs. Our Rage, is too high. We give twolegs bad feelings, when we are around. The more Rage you have, the more you make them scared you will harm them. It is why we can only breed with kinfolk. Our Rage is too high.

Christopher blinks. "Really? Damn... I guess it's no trip to the city then."

Three-Blades shakes her head at this, the human side of her mind showing. We can go in the Scab. /I/ go in the Scab. I /live/ in the Scab. Her ears slightly flatten, not exactly liking how she put the truth, but it is still fact. I am sure those with more Rage than you and I fare just as well. Signe-rhya, the Get of Fenris fullmoon, she lives within the Scab. Nevada, Kaz, Elan-rhya, all of us dwell in what others call a pit of the Weaver. She just barely bares her teeth at that. With another flick of her tail, she looks at the cub. You can come, when you have learned how to act in the Scab. There, the Veil is even more precious. Twolegs everywhere, not like here.

Pretty-Paws trots into the barn, shaking out her black fur. Haunting amber eyes gleam brightly with healthy intelligence. Her fur is still clotted with dry blood, limping slightly on her left front leg.

Three-Blades sniffs, the scent of blood wafting into the barn attracting her attention. She turns her gaze to the Coggie cub, and ears prick up. What hurt you?

Pretty-Paws flicks her ears upwards and dips her head down a bit. Squall and I was messing around, almost healed. Lolling her tongue, she flops down in front of the Gnawer, giving a sheepish grin, parting her muzzle in a wolven laugh.

Three-Blades sniffs again, getting the hint of Squall's scent as well floating about the cub. You are hurt, and you laugh. She flicks her tail, turning her gaze to look at the cub's wound. It should heal. Shift to Hispo.

Pretty-Paws can't shift, Adam making her stay in this form. He's mad.

Three-Blades tilts her head with curious interest at the cub. Why is he mad?

Pretty-Paws thinks its because the moon is nearly full, that and this one nearly got in trouble last night with a Get of Fenris. Tides have turned, I got him busted instead.

Three-Blades truly gazes at the cub with a look wavering between surprised and being impressed. Want to tell me how?

Pretty-Paws grins a slight lupine grin, nuzzling against the ragabash. If this one told you her secrets, it'd ruin the magic trick. But, I can't help but brag. The Get of Fenris, James, was messing with Christopher, saying he'll snap his legs. This one asked him nicely to not do that for no reason and he got mad and tackled me to the ground, telling me he will rip me open and cut off my womanly parts. This one told Adam, who then in turn told the Elders of my tribe. Last she heard, the Get will get the message: Touch our cubs, you lose guts.

Three-Blades lifts her lips in a sort of snarling wince, but quickly shakes off the mental image. Pushing the Get of Fenris is not wise, no. But why are you being punished?

Pretty-Paws doesn't think she's being punished now, thinks that Adam was just being stern with her, but this one wasn't pushing the Get, just didn't want to hear Christopher get kicked around. She see's this a lot. This one told chris that she had faith in him and he was surprised, said that I was the only person to tell him that. It seems, that his tribe does not think he can make it.

Three-Blades flicks her ears a couple of times, whuffing in agreement. The Fianna cub does not have much spirit, she notes, but with no scorn. He is a talesinger, as you are. The gibbous moons carry the duty to inspire us when our spirits are low. If he cannot bring the fire in his heart to burn brightly, then how could he shine in the eyes of his elders, in the eyes of the Garou? Her hind paw scratches at an itch and settles. This one also wants to see him success, but he does not see with the goals with his own eyes. I asked him what he would do when he was let out of this farmer's den. He told me, he did not know. There is no motivation... and that is dangerous. She glances to the cub with only concern in her posture. What about you?

Pretty-Paws doesn't have plans yet, has only been here for a few short days and learning is coming slow, but surely. This one is anxiouis to learn her place and will definitly try her best. If this one's job is to inspire, that is what she will do. So far, she has made an impact here with the cubs, and even cliaths. Was told by Runs at Dawn, that her tribe could learn a few things from she. Is proud.

Three-Blades opens her jaws in a lupine grin, her pink tongue cupped neatly between the lower canines. You are an example. One who can be of great motivation, I feel. Already you move the hearts of others, old and young. And you have kept yourself off the path of the Wyrm.

Pretty-Paws puffs up a bit, fluffing out her fur in pride, then nuzzles her Elder. Finds that her job is quite easy, just say nice things and help comfort, people tend to like this one more.

Three-Blades licks the cub between the ears, and rumbles softly. To be honest, this one doesn't know what her role is. Question the ways, yes. Scout, yes. But what more, when there is nothing else to watch? The sewers in the Scab grow blacker with the Wyrm, but there are none to rally another scouting. Her ears flatten slightly, and she shifts restlessly, the fur around her belly scraping against the dirt. So much to do, and yet no energy to do it.

Pretty-Paws flicks her ears upwards and rises to all fours, standing above the cliath. She thinks you must rally the Ahrouns, the full moon draws close this Monday, get their hopes up, promise them great glory. If that doesn't work, heckle them. If Gaia needs to be cleansed of the blight staining beneath the cement crust, then we, as Garou, /must/ destroy it. If not now, then tomorrow will be a bleaker day. Each moment we pause, the Wyrm grows stronger. Remind them of this New Moon.

Strains of "Jingle Bell Rock" filter through the walls of the barn, the doors creaking open to a frozen and windblown Nevada Madison. The cold's made his face flushed, giving him somewhat of a merry, drunkish cast, and his clothes, while nice, are dirt-stained here and there with bits of grass sticking to them. His chokechain jangles as he dances.

Three-Blades simply blinks, overtaken by the cub's speech. Then, she rises to her paws as if spurred to action. By Gaia, you speak like a true talesinger. She whurfs with good nature, nuzzling the cub. This one will do what you have advised. The problem is ga-- Her statement cut, ears turning as she blinks and looks at the Gnawer cub. With an bark, she charges towards the galliard and pounces.

Pretty-Paws keeps her head up and casted to the side, grinning with flickering bale filled orbs. Watching her charge the cub, she digs her talons into the ground and barrels forward as well. Tho' the asian is quicker, she is definitly no slouch. Zig zagging, then draws herself up as well, trying to pounce chest high with a mighty leap of her legs.

Nevada thrusts his hips, shoves his elbows, pose struck, and belts out: "And that's the Jingle Bell, and that's the Jingle Bell, and that's the Jingle Bell rooooock!" To which he adds less musically,"Shit," and goes down with a thunk.

Three-Blades clambers over the cub and licks his face with a wet slurp before moving off to let the coggie do her worst. She whuffs in amusement, noting the scent of those Xmas socks with a hint of ick.

Pretty-Paws plops square on Nevada's chest, pinning him down with her shoulders, grinning widely. Hi there hot stuff. Leaning down, she licks his cheek and neck, snuffling around with her velvety muzzle, then flops down, laying on him.

Nevada tries to fend off the canine love, gahhhing as he gets slurped. Wiping off his cheek, he laughs and runs his hands through the Gaian's fur. "I got somethin and you all squished it. Supposed to be a surprise, so get off a second, fuzzy."

Pretty-Paws leaps off him, settling back onto her haunches as she cants her head to the side. Presents?! She seems very enthusiastic.

Nevada sits back, patting himself off as he grins at the two. He reaches out a hand to mess up the Gaian's headfur before he unbuttons his denim jacket, to assess the damage. He has hidden a paper plate inside his jacket, wrapped in tin foil. He pulls it out, picking the foil away, looking over the slightly squashed peanut and pecan-flecked brownies there. "Oh no, they got dents in 'em, guess we can't eat 'em," he says in mock woe.

Three-Blades whuffs, and sits on her haunches with curiousity and sniffs at the brownies. Her tongue flicks over one and she snorts at the strange taste it leaves on the lupine tastebuds.

Pretty-Paws blinks and wags her tail furiously from back and forth. No, that means /you/ can't eat them. Grinning, she nudges into Nevada's legs, giving out a long, begging whine, glancing up to him with her pretty amber eyes, lifting up one paw, resting it on his hip. Give some, please?

((Long distance to the room: Three-Blades wonders how chocolate tastes to the dog...
Long distance to the room: Three-Blades thought chocolate was dangerous for dogs.
Pretty-Paws pages to the room: To dogs, not Garou :)
Long distance to the room: Three-Blades chuckles.
Nevada pages to the room: Straight chocolate is :) Not milk chocolate. And LOL I do not think the Defenders of Gaia would be killed by a candy bar ;)
You paged the room with 'Are you kidding? Too much sugary goodness can kill, no matter who you are. Even the Wyrm is not safe.'.
From afar, to the room, Pretty-Paws laughs as he can see Nevada putting candy bar's in the Spiral Dancer's bowls of food, hiding it, then creeping off laughing.
You paged the room with 'Call of the Wyrm: I HAVE A BUTTERFINGER!'.
From afar, to the room, Nevada to Black Spiral Dancer: "Yanno what? I decided I don't hate yall 'coz of Jay, or nothin, in fact, I think you and me could be real buddies. Here, this is how we Gnawers make friends." Nevada hands over a Baby Ruth. Black Spiral Dancer, ravenous insane slobber. Nevada, not mentioning anything about the ex-lax and powdered glass.
From afar, to the room, Pretty-Paws laughs and was thinking the same thing. Can see Jay fall off his cloud, cracking up.
You paged the room with 'BSD chomps and finds it good as Gaia. Excuses self for a few hours.'.))

Nevada melts. "Well, all right, if you say so," he says with a grin, pinching off a piece of the brownies to feed her. They're still warm, and close up, Nevada smells like sugar cookies, egg nog, and car exhaust. He sets down the plate on the ground. "Help yaselves. Takes a little gettin used to, eatin it like a dog, er, wolf."

Three-Blades deftly snags one off of the brownies from the plate, though half of it cracks off and gets flung into the dirt. She chews briefly on the pastry, padding over to the fallen half and sniffing it before licking that up off the floor too. Can't be picky.

Pretty-Paws reaches up with her muzzle, licking at Nevada's fingers, then snags it, chewing a few times, giving him a toothy grin. Wagging her tail back and forth, she tips her head back a few times, swallowing greedily, rumbling in thanks.

Three-Blades licks off some grime from her muzzle, and sniffs another brownie before capturing it in the sticky prison of her jaws. The brown, luckily, matches her muzzle fur.

Pretty-Paws is quite dainty at eating the brownie from Nevada's fingers, not goarding over it, but making sure she doesn't get it in her fur. Once finishing it, she licks Nev's fingers clean, nuzzling into his legs.

Pretty-Paws paws at Nevada once more, then flops down onto her stomach, yawning loudly with a cute ending whine. Twisting her ears upwards, she snaps at the air, then growls softly.

Nevada scratches the Gaian behind the ears. "So I been doin this caroling thing," he says,"Out on the streets. Get some pretty good money after a while. This lady and the cutest little girl you ever saw, they had this bake sale thing going on aways down, they sent me over a plate of brownies. Damndest adorable thing."

Jarred creaks open the barn door and slips inside.

Three-Blades busies herself with licking chocolate off her muzzle, but listens to the gnawer cub with interest. The creak of the barn door sends her attention to it, and she whuffs to greet Jarred.

Pretty-Paws chuffs as she glances to Jarred, wagging her tail back and forth. Laughing with lupine glee, she chews on the end of a brownie again.

Nevada follows the wolf's gaze to Jarred, cracking a grin. "Hey, Knife," he calls. "Ya wanna brownie? Yah? You do. These things are great."

Pretty-Paws flops her rump on Nevada's shoe, glancing up behind her at him with a grin.

Three-Blades pads over to a more open space with a third brownie in her jaws and lies down to make this one count. Her tongue washes over the warm pastry as she occassionally looks up at the two cubs and Shadow Lord.

Nevada glances back to the wolf, grinning as he gives her a prod with his shoe. Then he crawls back, gets to his feet, and brushes off the knees of his jeans. He reaches over to pick up her front paws, so they can 'dance.' "C'mere you."

Pretty-Paws springs up onto her hind legs, letting him take ahold of her paws, then stands wobbily for a moment. Grinning, she hops forward, squinting her eyes shut, bubbling over in happyfilled chortles. Sweeping me off my feet again? You stud.

Three-Blades whuffles in amusement, continuing to lick away the chocolate topping as her ears and eyes follow the cubs. You two, quite a pair.

Nevada attempts a very English-looking proper waltz with the wolf, providing his own hummed music, but ends up just laughing at how awkward it is. "Kevin Costner made it look so easy," he says, letting her go, leaning down to give her a noogie.

Pretty-Paws chuffs in happiness, then leans into the noogies, licking at his face, burying herself into his arms. She looks so happy and content like that, her tail high and wagging back and forth in the air.

((Long distance to the room: Three-Blades passes pose. Assume in chocolatey bliss.))

"Blah, you're worse than Tonka," Nevada tells her, wiping off his chin before squeezing the wolf into a hug. He smiles sidelong. "You remember Tonk, don't ya? The big fuzzy red tomato?"

Pretty-Paws nods her head, resting her paws on both of his shoulders, burying her muzzle into his neck. This one did remember, called him clifford.

Three-Blades chews a few times on the last of the brownie, crunching on pecans as she rises to her feet and pads over to slurp the both of them with a chocolatey tongue. She sits back in amusement at her decorating, ears canted to either side.

Nevada grins and scratches at her ears. "Funny thing, bout Tonk. I hadn't seen him in a while, since.. " His smile fades a little. "Well since a while, so I always thought he got run over or something, but one day, I saw me a missing sign all drawn up by a kid. My little cousins, yanno? They was looking for him. So I thought I'd go look for that big tomato, but I didn't know where to start. So Kaz, this real awesome friend of mine, Galliard too, so she's extra cool, she says she'd help me find 'em. So she takes out this french fry... yeah, a french fry, and she like mutters all this mumbo jumbo stuff, and the fry starts moving.. like a compass. Leads us to the animal shelter downtown, where we jailbroke Tonk real smooth."

Three-Blades quirks her head at the Gnawer galliard's tale of the Tonk. Sounds like the questing rite.

Pretty-Paws flicks her ears upwards and cants her head to the side, then flips her tail under Nevada's chin, dragging it slowly and teasingly. This one makes a sexy wolf. Yup.

"Questing Rite? I don't know any rites, but that sounds about right." Nevada then squints. He made a funny. Paws' tail tickles under his chin, and he scratches a little, pushing the brush away. "You'd make a nice coat," he tells her with a smirk.

Three-Blades snorts in amusement, and pounces at the coggie cub when she's unaware...or rather occupied.

Pretty-Paws gets taken down quickly and chuffs out in surprise, pawing at her chin and nipping, laughing in sharp barks.

Three-Blades takes the nips and licks furiously for a few seconds before jumping off and glancing at Nevada, almost mischieviously in her posture.

Pretty-Paws rolls to her feet and crouches into a playbow, staring at Nevada like a piece of backstreetboy meat.

Nevada grins at the wolf antics, though his attention is focussed on squinting to read his watch in the dim light.

Three-Blades bounces a couple of times on her paws, then barks at Paws to tackle the cub.

Pretty-Paws zips to the side, then puts her full weight into the back of Nevada's legs, trying to make him tumble over her.

Nevada stumbles, managing to catch himself on his elbow to avoid a full face smack. "Hey!"

Three-Blades digs in and pounces the tumbling Nevada, washing his face thoroughly with bits of chocolate still on her tongue.

Pretty-Paws laughs and begins to circle, parting her maw to take a bit of Nev's hair in her jaws, tugging playfully.

Three-Blades swishes her tail as the Gnawer cub takes off to wash his face and Do Stuff. Her gaze shifts over to Jarred, who's been abnormally quiet for the most part, and whuffs again.

Pretty-Paws glances over to Jarred and chuffs as well, wagging her tail back and forth happily. This one is very pretty. See! She sits back, showing her paws to Jarred.

Jarred walks over and inspects the paws closely, squatting down. After a moment, he looks into the wolf's face. "I've seen better..." He grins.

Three-Blades snorts, and trots in a circle around the Slord. She comes up next to Paws and sits, gazing at the man like she expects him to say something important.

Pretty-Paws stares at Jarred in complete shock, as if, the sky was falling or something.

Jarred grins and scritches the Coggie behind the ears, scruffling her fur. "Just kidding. They're stunning, of course."

Pretty-Paws flops her ears down, leaning into the hands, still looking quite pathetic and saddened.

Three-Blades nudges the cub, whuffing in amusement. You look as sad as a bear that stumbled into a beehive.

Jarred runs his hands down the wolf's back, probing ever so slightly. "You were healed... are you back to normal? Still a little sore? Squall feels really bad about it, you know. I think if you're magnanimous with him, you'll make a pretty good friend."

Three-Blades blinks, glancing over Paws with a critical eye. You said you had a playfight with Squall. Didn't think it was that serious... what were you fighting in, crinos?

Pretty-Paws rowlfs slightly as he finds a tender bruise and reaches up, licking his face with her tongue. This one is almost healed, just a few bruises, but nothing more. Tell Squall not to worry, shit happens, he's the better fighter.

Pretty-Paws winches slightly at Three-Blades and lets out a sigh. Yes, was in Crinos.

Three-Blades blinks, almost surprised. Where was this?

Pretty-Paws looks down, her ears pinning to her head. Here.

Three-Blades rumbles, well at least it wasn't out in the Scab.

Pretty-Paws lifts her head upwards, glancing to Blades, then nudges her with a cold nose, glancing to Jarred. I want to fight the Wyrm.

Three-Blades rises to her paws, backing up a bit and shaking the dust from her fur. She tilts at ear at the eager Coggie cub. Don't we all. She flicks her tongue over her nose, still smelling a bit of brownie chocolate. But don't just jump into the fray. That's not your role. She settles back down onto her haunches, tail swishing occassionally.

Pretty-Paws thinks your wrong. Thinks battling the Wyrm is /our/ role. Everyone's. If we are to win this battle, we need every moon, every tribe. Flickering her tail, she casts her gaze first to Blades, then to Jarred. If I am to learn to inspire, then I must taste blood, I /must/ bleed for Gaia, to feel the hot stinging in my side, the warm pulsing meat upon my claws, and let my song carry upon the night's wind. Circling both of the cliath's, the cub lifts her muzzle upwards, pinning her ears back. If us cubs can't taste war, we will never know our enemy until its too late. How many Garou have died because we coddled them, sheltered them from the horrors of the world?

Three-Blades rumbles and stands up, the feeling of being circled causing a bit of discomfort. We only keep the cubs safe because they are the future of the Garou. What good is it if we send the inexperienced into war? I do not say keep them sheltered from all the wrongs that go on. I just don't want them to die unnecessarily. The gibbous moon calls your Rage up these nights, young cub. Fighting the Wyrm is a Garou's role. But we all carry the fight in our different ways. Yours through your talents, Jarred's through his, and I through mine. She holds herself high, gazing at the cub directly. And each cub that comes, has already seen horrors of their own.

Pretty-Paws gazes back to Three-Blades, but not challengingly. Here, all I've seen are cubs being kicked around, made fun of, threatened. Not encouraged. How can /we/ succeed, if we do not have the confidence of our elders and peers? She questions the New Moon. Instinct to fight is strong yes, and so will the way of fighting will come just as natural. This one is not ready, but does not want to be left out if she may make a difference. Whether or not the Elders think so or not. After listening to Adam and the others, I am ready to die in battle.

Jarred pets Pretty-Paws, idly. "Three-Blades is correct. You will someday fight the Wyrm, but for now, your role is to learn and listen. In the future, you will inspire the garou with tales of our victories and sallow songs of our defeats and losses. But you must first learn who and what you are. You are capable of astonishing things.. only some of which you are aware of yet. Once you have mastered the rudiments, you can move on to be a productive memeber of garou society."

You already are making a difference, the Gnawer newmoon replies. Working hard doesn't just mean fighting. It also means teaching, learning... what good will it do if we have destroyed the Wyrm, but do not understand why? We also have to find our places in Gaia's heart.

Pretty-Paws snorts and wonders what will happen when all her Elders go to war, then die, and this one will have no one to guide her. See the reality in all that? Laying down, she curls her tail around her paws, closing her eyes. I still want to fight the Wyrm the first chance I can get.

Jarred says "Alicia, I watched as my best friend was struck down in a fight with the worm, and he was cliath. Don't be foolish. It was our foolish charge into danger that got some of us killed. Prepare yourself before taking on that challenge. Remember how you underestimated Squall's capabilities? Well, the Wyrm is far craftier, and far stronger than any one garou..."

Pretty-Paws falls silent at that and doesn't continue with the argument, giving in.

"Hi, Little Sister." It's Helen and she's approaching the Child of Gaia cub once she throws the barn door open. "You feelin' okay?" How adorable. The Black Fury proceeds to shift down into the wolf form, albeit slowly, and nudge Pretty-Paws' shoulder.

Pretty-Paws gives a chuff and nuzzles into Helen, rumbling deeply in her throat, glad to see you. This one is nearly healed, was fixed by Adam good, but has to stay in this form for one more day. Licking at her ears, she grins. You still messing with that stuff this one gave you earlier?

Three-Blades growls softly and lies down, ears flicking occassionally. She rolls onto her back, writhing a little, and falling over to one side as if the act eased some tension.

Eris chuffs in response to Pretty-Paws. She is not because of ~Tecmessa~ and ~Leda~ and ~Katina~. They would get mad at her. She nudges the galliard in a rare display of a sort of affection usually reserved for her Sisters. She falls upon her haunches and glances 'round the barn and then back to the Child of Gaia. She says she is called Eris, as a wolf. Goddess of chaos.

Pretty-Paws thinks thats a good name for you Eris, is hoping for a better cub name soon, instead of the one she has now. Lolling her tongue, she flops to her side, pawing at you, a flash of brillance hanging in her eyes. First chance we get to city, we have some fun.

Lise makes her way in, glancing around, to catch the end of that. "I was often called "Reads too much." she offers. "There are worse names."

Eris's ears perk at the mention of the city. She wants to go, Little Sister. The name she calls Pretty-Paws isn't teasing, but more like something she would call an actual sibling.

Pretty-Paws flicks her ears upwards and glances to Lise. HI! Much enthusiasm is shown here as she leaps to her feet, bounding to her Elder. Dried blood still clings to her stomach and shoulder, matted within black fur. Would rather be called Reads too Much instead of Pretty-Paws, is not a barbie girl, in a barbie world.

Eris's Sister ~Karin~ is sometimes called Reads-too-Much. ~Katina~ calls her Watches-Lunes. She chuffs her humor, adding: ~Katina~ calls me Slowpoke and Shaky-Legs.

Three-Blades rumbles, still on her side. Would get confused with Reads-in-Darkness, one of our Gnawer cubs.

Pretty-Paws chuffs, or Nevada, Can't-Read-At-All.

Lise nods at that, and adds. "It's nice to meet you." she adds to Eris. "I'm Lise, halfmoon cliath of the Children of Gaia, and the one who got called to deal with her." Definite affectionate tone in her voice, as she gestures at Pretty-Paws.

Eris is Eris. She is ragabash of the Black Furies. Her demeanor stiffens some and she lifts her chin; the cub obviously seems proud of her heritage. Cub, though. The wolf's ears flick.

Lise smiles at that. "Good thing to be proud of." she says, comfortably. "My first pack was mostly Furies, and you have many things to be proud of."

Three-Blades rumbles as she rolls back onto her belly, ears swiveling at the conversations.

Pretty-Paws nuzzles around Lise's legs, glancing up at her. Has to stay in this form until she finishes healing, then can go back to the farmhouse.

Lise tilts her head at this. "Healed?" she asks curiously. "What happened, and what have you been up to?"

Eris is proud, the cub tells Lise and slowly plods over to the halfmoon and sniffs curiously at her legs.

Jarred makes a doubtful snort at the Fury's declaration as he rises, striding toward the barn door with some speed. "Take care, everyone."

Eris's attention flickers to Jarred, and she seems quite annoyed. In fact, she goes so far as to offer the cliath a snarl.

Three-Blades chuffs a goodbye to the Shadow Lord, and glances at the sniffing cubs. So much for respecting territory.

Lise stands quite still, and nods at Jarred. "Likewise." she agrees.

Jarred turns back a moment, glancing at the wolf, shaking his head. "Don't even think it, cub. Don't even think it."

The growl lingers in Eris' throat as she regards Jarred.

Pretty-Paws is confused and wonders why Eris would snarl at her friend Jarred for. She flips her tail, avoiding Lise's conversation for a moment, then nudges her fury friend in the shoulder.

Jarred's voice is calm and level. "Stop growling... right now."

Pretty-Paws nudges Eris again, does not think fighting will help in this situation. Licking her friend's ears, she softly rumbles. Let it go, whatever happened, and we shall talk later of this. Please.

Eris's ears lower against her head. She still seems quite angry but she does let it go, for once getting a handle on her anger. The new moon turns to Pretty-Paws and nudges her back.

Jarred smiles and nods. "Thank you, Eris."

Jarred says "Night, everyone."

Lise watches that for a moment, then moves to settle down, crossing her legs beneath her.

Pretty-Paws nudges her back and chews gently on one of Eris's ears, letting her warm breath puff out against her fur. What is wrong sister. Why did you get upset?

Three-Blades licks her nose, ears half-flattened but still relaxed enough to ease a little more into the floor. Her tail swishes softly behind her as she glances to Lise once, then back to the cubs.

He does not believe that she is proud of being a Sister, a Black Fury. Eris growls. He snorted when she said she was. He is being a typical..._male_. Her nose wrinkles, and it seems she's been properly corrupted.

Pretty-Paws licks Eris's throat with her tongue, tucking her head under the other's chin, lightly flickering her tail. Do not think anything of it young new-moon. Know inside your heart that you will make a good daughter of athena and that you will prove it to us all. I believe in you, and is proud. Just believe in yourself, and ignore the rest.

Lise watches this, looking ever so slightly bemused, judging by her expression.

Three-Blades flicks her ear. Perhaps he was not snorting at your heritage, but at your swelling pride. Jarred was being Jarred. Your hatred of males is beginning to show, Fury cub.

Eris's eyes flicker to Three-Blades. There is nothing wrong with being proud of who you are. She snorts loudly.

Pretty-Paws doesn't think there is either, but don't be /too/ proud. She gives a slight wolven grin, nudging Eris again.

Lise offers to Eris. "No, but demeaning men for being men isn't a great way to show your pride. After all, they can't help that they're men, now, can they? Actions, yes, but the actual being male.... What would you have done if a woman had done the same thing?"

Eris would tell her that there is nothing wrong with being proud of who you are. Where you come from. Her elders have taught her that. She is a Fury and she is proud of it.

Lise nods at that. "There is nothing wrong with being proud. But there can be something wrong with carrying a chip around on your shoulder the size of the Statue of Liberty." She wiggles her hand, and offers wryly. "They get a bit heavy, I'm told. Shall I tell you about a packsister of mine?"

Eris inclines her head briefly. Alright. She falls upon her haunches next to Pretty-Paws.

Pretty-Paws listens as well, giving her full attention, continuing to nuzzle the fury new moon, to calm her down some.

Three-Blades gazes over to Lise, giving just a quiet sigh before getting up to settle into a warm spot on a haypile next to the wall.

Lise nods slowly, and settles herself a bit. "I mentioned that I ran with a largely Fury pack. This is a story about a woman named Emily. Not a very Fury name..." she adds. "But it's the one she was born with, and the one I first met her by."

Pretty-Paws gets up and excuses herself for a moment, trotting out of the barn to take care of...business.

Lise then continues, after a brief pause. "She had come to a women's school - which is where I went - because she didn't want to have anything to do with men. She had had bad experiences, and was well within reason to be distrustful, but she took it too far. She would not accept a man's help if a woman was around - even if the man was better. She would not admit that men can have the same skills as women. She would not admit that ther are some things men are better at, because of the way their bodies are designed, that there are some things that are - on an engineering level - easier for them.

Three-Blades snorts softly, pawing the hay at her forepaw. Foolish, but maybe understandable. She flicks her ears, and continues listening.

Eris regards Lise, eyes widening somewhat. Well?

Lise mmms. "One day, she and I were exploring something for my Rite of Passage - an area of the college which had become bane-infested due to first a lead paint factory burning down many years ago, and reaggravated by the college's attempts to patch it up. We were with one of my tribe's kinfolk, who was working on the environmental studies, and she slipped while we were climbing a steep and rocky hill."

Three-Blades pricks her ears, intent on catching all of the coggie's words.

Lise smiles over at Three-Blades, then says. "Now, I don't have a lot of medical skill, and I'm not very strong - particularly not in homid, and there were enough people around that I couldn't risk shifting. But she had dislocated her shoulder, and we were a way back in the woods, in an area we shouldn't have been in - it's all fenced off - and we had to get her out, at the very least."

Eris rests upon her belly, listening to Lise attentively.

Lise mmms, and asks Eris. "What do you think happened, perhaps?" she asks.

She died? Eris answers.

Three-Blades flicks the tip of her tail. A male twoleg came to help.

Lise shakes her head. "No, no." she says. "Dislocated shoulders are painful, but generally not fatal without something else going on. But all of a sudden, this very mild man she'd been largely ignoring stretched her out on the groun,d made sure she wouldn't move, told me where to hold her, and took her arm and *pulled*. You could hear the pop as it slid back in, and then she looked up at him, and was very quiet. After a few minutes, she apologised to him at length, and was very penitent coming home, where we took care of her for a little. The next time she came out scouting with us, she actually *listened* to him, and learned a great deal about things she now does to earn herself money and keep her together."

Three-Blades whuffs, liking the ending to the story. Men were not put on Gaia just for mating. She rises to her paws, slipping down the haypile and trotting over to Lise to give the Coggie a thanking lick. The story was good. This one thanks you.

Lise chuckles at that, and scratches Three Blades behind the ears. "No, they weren't. Though that one is making a very good father, too."

Three-Blades chuffs, and leans into the scritching for a little bit before nuzzling the Coggie's hand. A good man does not always make a good father. But a good father is always a good man. She blinks and grins, then backs up and trots out the door with a parting chuff to Lise in thanks.