War-Maw had never led his pack back to their Caern so quickly. With so much urgency. They made quick work of the Pentex invasion into their territory and then they were on the move.
Hackles raised. Adrenaline flowing— fresh rage from the full moon still left their bodies warm and empowered. Sloppy, even. Shown in the way they blasted through trees and snapped at eachother.
They didn't shift back to their Lupus forms. They stayed in their Crinos battle forms, running like man if he was as monstrous on the outside as he was within.
The closer they got to their Caern, the more familiar it all became. The Caern was a special— holy ground, for Garou tribes and individual packs within. War-Maw had been alpha and organizing protector of the Red Talon MidWestern Caern for some time.
He knew the land surrounding it.
He could feel its naturally flowing Gnosis in the air as he grew closer. Upwind, in the mountains surrounding their territory from the north, he could smell the Pumonca assassins laying in wait for one of them to take their humanity culling activities too far. Even closer— as he neared in a full sprint, he could smell Wendigo Tribe and Uktena Tribe Garou members.
They were loose allies.
The three of them made the Sept that protected the Caern. It allowed them all to better access The Umbra and commune with their totems and spirits for power.
As territory shrunk, they had to work together.
Considering the fact that War-Maw was bringing a pup into the dying world, he'd take all the strong allies he could.
The thought made him run ever faster.
It didn't take long for them to reach home.
Elder Garou Gatekeepers— giant pony sized wolves with glowing eyes, remained passive as they zipped by in the dark.
The grounds were empty. Concentrated elsewhere.
At the center of the Caern— in a clearing, under a collection of felled trees that made a sort of wood hut. A fire burned. Dozens of Garou paced nervously.
War-Maw whined with anxiety as he closed in, pushing aside and slapping down wolves in his way until he was crouching down beside the wolf in labor.
She was large— powerful— in pain. Her name was Bloodfang. Her long ears were pinned back against her sleek head. The dark red fur rose and fell as she barked and nipped at the dead leaves on the ground. Like War-Maw, she was in her Crinos form. The realization made him panic. It wasn't safe for pregnant Garou to shift. It could outright crush the unborn within. Cat-Eye noticed it as well and began growling at her sister.
War-Maw smacked her snout. The other Garou barked and jumped around nervously before settling.
Behind Bloodfang, War-Maw's most trusted ally held his gaze. He was a tall one— even among all the Garou in their Crinos forms, he towered at an astounding eleven feet. What he overcompensated with in height, he lacked in bulk. He was a wispy wraith-like beast.
Fire-tongue, War-Maw's most trusted ally and the best Theurge he'd ever known— the name of Garou born under sickle moons. They were known mystics and often seemingly detached from reality. War-Maw knew better. They were the few who could see all of reality. Fire-tongue was no different. It's why the sight of him calmed War-Maw.
Drapped in animal skins wearing belts of magical Fetishes and Talen's, Fire-tongue looked more prepared for the task of labor than any of them. And that's because he was.
Bloodfang snarled in pain again as another contraction hit beneath the full moon.
War-Maw barked at Fire-tongue and pointed to the wooden flute sheathed at his belt. Bird wings and stars were engraved on the instrument. Though instrument wasn't an accurate name. It was actually quite disrespectful to the spirit blended within. That was the nature of Fetishes. Items imbued with spirits from the Umbra.
The flute was charged with a spirit of healing and calmness. Known as the Harmony Flute. A bird-spirit fluttered within.
It could help his mate. Calm her rage influenced by the moon.
Fire-tongue shook his head vehemently.
War-Maw snarled savagely.
A voice rang true to his homid mind.
"It is a Full-Moon, War-Maw. Your child will be the first Ahroun born in generations. A warrior. A killer. Able to take down multiple Garou— or any other changing breed, on their own and be no worse for wear. All warriors must know battle— even at birth. Otherwise…. are they even warriors? This one cannot be coddled by melodies and song. Not even at birth."
War-Maw shook off the deep croaking voice, begrudgingly submitting to the idea of his mate going through the full pain and rage of labor with no help.
Slowly, he crept closer. Bloodfang realized his scent for the first time and went alert. Smelling the human blood and wyrm entrails on his claws.
She snarled and yeowled in a pained trance. War-Maw held her down and licked her face, covering his mate in the innermost scents of himself.
She calmed.
For a moment he saw her. Behind the wicked yellow glow of her eyes. Beneath the spiked fur smoking in the cold night of Wisconsin fall weather. He saw the strong and composed wolf that drew his ire so long ago. That was the final decider in him joining the Red Talons Tribe and leaving all remnants of his human life behind.
Then another contraction hit.
She roared like a mountain lion.
The Gnosis flowing around them warbled. Fire-tongue clicked his fangs as spirits walked the physical realm— known more commonly among Garou, as the Tellurian. They came in flashes, eager to witness the rare birth.
Hawk spirits soared. Semi-transparent green winged beasts.
Wolves howled soundlessly.
Sabertoothed cat spirits of old stalked at the edges of the fire, snarling, while others purred with interest.
Right beside War-Maw, a griffin stood, watching, eagerly.
The totem of the Red Talons.
A beast of the sky and earth. A symbol of the wild and untamed blend of a feral world. Of nature. Wings, fangs, tails, teeth. A brutal balance that rested on the precipice of death.
The beast and symbol of their tribe watched as Bloodfang gave her final contraction and pushed forth the next generation.
Fire-tongue was there the whole way, ready to carry the pup from between her legs.
He was large, with dark fur that had a brindle pattern to it.
The newborn was in lupus form— that of a wolf, and had to be over twenty pounds and slicked by the fluids of his mothers protective placenta. It gave him a liquid shimmer beneath the full moon as Fire-tongue lifted the pup to face the rest of the pack and full moon.
A male. Strong. Snarling and twisting in the mystiques hand, already eager to inflict damage on the unknown trapper before him. He was a fighter.
His auspice was decided in that moment— even before his wild actions. War-Maw's son. Born on the full moon. He'd be an Ahroun. A dangerous and terrifying breed of warrior Garou. Gaia's soldier in the battle against the Wyrm. Also the rarest born of the Red Talons for generations. Thanks to Pentax.
Perhaps the world wasn't ending.
War-Maw took his pup as Fire-tongue handed him off. Quickly, Fire-tongue fed Bloodfang a bundle of healing salves and herbs.
All the while, War-Maw faced his pack— faced the Griffin-spirit. The beast bowed and dissipated. War-Maw eyed his son. His heart boomed— reverberating through his young body as he snapped at his fathers face.
"Your name….. is Future-Fang."
All he was left with were his wolves. They howled.
He howled.
In celebration.
For even if the Wyrm apocalypse was approaching, so were they. With a promising next generation. One that spoke of a hope for the future. One they desperately needed in the wake of Pentex's chemical rains and deforestation efforts.
Their howls shook the night, deafening everything from the fleeing birds to the fast approaching cars in the distance.
No one would penetrate their celebrations. Not on the night of the full moon. Or at least not in that moment.
Not even the bundle of cars fast approaching, smelling of gunpowder and wolf…