Since it’s St. Paddy’s Day, I wanted to give you all an update on what the deal is.

The long & short of it is that I went through a major change of life beginning in early spring; my relationship of 10 years ended. While I managed to keep posting semi-regularly for quite some time after that, the end of the marriage caused several other changes of life, namely, I had to go out and get new accommodations and a regular full-time job, some of which were temp positions which left me in somewhat unstable conditions. Then I moved *again*, leaving all my art stuff up in the air once more, and then I got a permanent full-time position, that left my writing schedule once again somewhat in chaos.

Right now I’m trying to get myself settled back in and I’m finally starting to have some success. It may still be two or three months until I give regular updates since I will be moving *yet again* in early April, but that should be a semi-permanent move. (I was staying with relatives prior to this based on their proximity to my workplace.) Once I’m totally moved in in spring, expect–one year later–for updates to come regularly again.

I think I may change the format of things slightly; now that I have less time, I think there will be fewer but much higher quality pictures, rather than more lower quality ones. I think overall it will be a good tradeoff.

Feel free to tell me what’s on you guys minds and thanks for reading.

"There's, uh... that is... Rushing Creek is having... a Beltane festival, and... well, if you'd like to go together...."

The fact was, I still felt out of place, even weeks later and with some pretty intensive training under my belt. I was getting more familiar with other members of the ætt, but I could tell I was still relying on Moon-Singer.

“Heya stranger,” Wren’s familiar, warm voice called out. She took a seat beside me on the wooden bench. I hadn’t even noticed her footsteps on the needle-covered ground of the woods near the grave of my father. Or maybe she had flown from the trees–I was so deep in thought, I couldn’t have told you. “I came to visit you.” She coyly put her arms around me and smirked at me. I still thought she seemed too openly affectionate for someone who supposedly had a crush on me. But I couldn’t help hoping Moon-Singer was right.

“I missed you,” I said honestly. “Lately I haven’t seen you outside of band practice.”

Wren grinned and–very uncharacteristically–blushed bright red. I would have second-guessed myself if her skin wasn’t so pale. “I missed you too,” she said happily. She teasingly punched my stomach. “Especially now that you’re getting ripped from all that training.”

“If that’s true,” I replied with a smirk, “It’s only a matter of time before I get myself a girlfriend.”

“Or a boyfriend,” Wren rejoined.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure my girlfriend won’t harass me as much as you do,” I said, tugging on the elaborate braid Wren had pulled her butt-length hair into.

“Oh?” She said, standing up and putting her hands on her hips. She seemed annoyed. “Your imaginary girlfriend? What’s she like, this imaginary girl?”

I stared at Wren. I was out of comebacks; I wanted to say, ‘you.’ “Well, you know…” I mumbled, scratching my arm and looking away.

She sat next to me again and gave me a pointed stare. “No, I don’t know,” She replied. “That’s why I asked.”

“How is school going?” I asked, desperate to change the topic.

Wren grinned. “I’m want to try and take the GED test this year,” Wren said.

“This year?! But, Wren… most people would be in school for another whole year. That’s kind of an aggressive pace, don’t you think?”

“Pah, everyone says the test is easy,” she replied. “I could probably take it now, based on the sample questions, only I want to do well. Anyway, I want get to Rushing-Creek as soon as I can. It will be easier to join your pack on missions if I live right next to the ætt.”

“You don’t have to join me on missions,” I replied. “Honestly, they’re kind of dangerous. I would prefer you didn’t go.”

Wren crossed her arms. “And you think I like you going? Why do you think I’m so keen to come along? Someone’s got to protect you, Silver-Dancer.”

“I’m not a baby,” I said, annoyed. “Despite what everyone seems to think. And I don’t need to be protected.” Especially not by some tiny four foot tall pixie.

“That’s not what I–it’s not that,” Wren said, hugging her knees and staring ahead. “I mean, it’s true that you’re not as experienced as the others, but that’s not really why I want to come with you. It’s just… the thought that something could happen to you, and I wouldn’t be able to help… or the thought, you know, that… that something would happen to you, and I’d have to sit around, wondering and waiting, and then I’d find out that you were… injured, or even worse… never getting to say goodbye, or having the chance to save you…” her words trailed off and she bit her lip.

“Wren…” I said. I resisted the urge to hug her and instead just took her hand. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Wren squeezed my hand. She blushed again and glanced away. “There’s, uh… that is… Rushing Creek is having… a Beltane festival, and… well, if you’d like to go together….”

“I’d love to go together,” I said, trying to keep my cool. “That is… that sounds nice, Wren.”

She smiled. “Good,” she said. She seemed relieved.

"He was your father's greatest Nemesis, and most people thought that if one of them died, it would be by the other's hand."

“Who is Pig-Sticker?” I asked, putting down my fork and looking at Moon-Singer.

“Pig-Sticker?” My mom repeated, confused.

Moon-Singer’s wife, Keira, winced a little at the mention of the name. Apparently not a popular dinnertime topic. Avise looked a little ill-at-ease.

“Pig-Sticker is a Vandal of some infamy,” Moon-Singer replied, looking at me. “He was your father’s greatest Nemesis, and most people thought that if one of them died, it would be by the other’s hand–If Ghost is right, then Pig-Sticker finally got the upper-hand of your father.”

“Pig-Sticker has a fearsome blade,” Keira added. “It thirsts after the blood of any man whose gore it tastes. Pig-Sticker attacked your father many times, trying to sate that spear’s deadly longing.”

“It’s worse than that,” Moon-Singer added. “The spear’s thirst for vengeance extends to those who share it’s opponent’s blood. You should be careful, Silver-Singer–if Pig-Sticker sees a chance to take you down as well, there’s no doubt he’ll take it.”

My mother looked upset to hear this–as if in response, Keira offered her a smile and and a hand. “Don’t worry, Jane,” she said. “The reason we live in the ætt is so that there are people to look after Silver-Singer when he can’t look after himself.”

“I can look after myself just fine,” I said, annoyed.

“Whatever,” Avise said with a smirk. “Black-Wind says you have trouble leaving the Dreaming.”

“I do not!” I snapped. “I just don’t like that weird fally feeling,” I added with a mumble.

“You’ll get used to it,” Moon-Singer said with a smirk. “I promise you can’t bump your head leaving the dreaming.”

I rolled my eyes. We were straying from the topic at hand. “Do you plan to go after Pig-Sticker–to find out if what Ghost said is true?”

“It’s a hard decision to make, Silver-Singer,” Moon-Singer replied. “Going after Pig-Sticker is dangerous, and it’s only a matter of time before we bump heads with him again anyway.”

“So you’ll just let him get away with it,” I said angrily.

“It’s not that simple!” Moon-Singer snapped, annoyed. “Pig-Sticker is an immensely powerful Vandal. Trust me, Silver-Singer, there’s nothing I’d like more than to give him a piece of what he’s got coming. I’ve had more close scrapes with him than I can count on one hand, many of which I wouldn’t have come out of alive if it wasn’t for your dad. If Silver-Dancer was taken down by Pig-Sticker… not just anyone stands a chance against him. Especially you, Silver-Singer. You’re even greener than most of the therians you run with.”

The table was silent for a moment. I looked down at the floor, shocked at Moon-Singer’s uncharacteristic anger. For a moment, I could almost glimpse the youth with the hair trigger temper that he had once been. The suddenness of his outburst hit me hard, harder for the fact that his words were a reminder of that fact that I didn’t fit in at the ætt–that I only fit in as much as I did because of what he had taught me.

“Don’t be so hard on him,” Keira said. “It’s natural, wanting vengeance after what happened. Especially with you filling his head with tales about how great Silver-Dancer was.”

Moon-Singer sighed and sipped his beer. “I just…” Moon-Singer sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I think about some of the fool things I did back then. I was itching for a fight against Pig-Sticker, but I know now what a disaster that would have been. If you don’t want break your mother or your girlfriend’s heart, Silver-Singer, stay smart.”

“Wren’s not my girlfriend,” I interjected.

Moon-Singer smirked. “And yet you know exactly who I meant,” he said, all too eager to change the topic.

“I keep telling him to let her know,” Jane said, rubbing my cropped hair with a smirk, “But he still hasn’t gotten the courage.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s not interested,” I said as nonchalantly as I could muster. “She’s always making these… raunchy comments about me. If she was really interested in me, she wouldn’t tease me like that.”

Moon-Singer grinned. “I don’t know, Silver-Singer,” he replied. “To me, that just sounds like she’s really interested in you.” Avise sniggered.

“I have an idea,” I said, looking away. “Let’s not talk about this anymore.”

“You really oughtta say something,” Moon-Singer said, shaking his head. “Just saying.”

Blue-Flame struggled to run through the open door as a dark, billowing cloud surrounded him.

“I’ll cut right to the chase,” Moon-Singer said, stepping in front of me and brandishing his sword. “Are you Ghost?”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” she replied, leaning on her black cane.

“Answer me, or I’ll cut you down!” Moon-Singer demanded, stepping toward her.

The sluagh sighed. “I am she,” She said somewhat diffidently, “if you must know. Therians are such boorish creatures. Killing my poor little babies…” she bit her lip, seemingly upset, and glanced out a crack in the boarded windows.

“If your pets had not attacked us, we would not have been called upon to kill them in self-defense,” Healing-Tears replied. “Perhaps you should have taught them to be more restrained.”

“You were trespassing,” she said angrily, jabbing her staff toward Healing-Tears. “Don’t get self-righteous with me. But then, you Therians–you can’t help yourselves when it comes to that. Everything is about how righteous it is or isn’t. You’re so focused on justice you forget about living.”

“Spare us another exile lecture about how insufferable we are,” Blue-Flame retorted.

Ghost stood up straight and gave a Blue-Flame a look that would haunt my nightmares. “I’m waiting for a good reason why I shouldn’t kill all of you for trespassing.”

Moon-Singer scoffed. “Did you kill Silver-Dancer?” He asked, ignoring her.

“Ha! I’d love to take the credit for that,” she said a little wistfully. “Why do you think such a thing?”

I didn’t kill him,” Ghost continued. “Nor did any of Dreadnaught’s other contacts, as far as I know. I’m surprised you don’t know,” she continued. “We always assumed it was Pig-Sticker.”

Moon-Singer inhaled sharply as she mentioned the name. “What made you assume that?”

“Urban-Burrow–the elfdan he sought when he died–had dealings with him before Silver-Dancer attacked,” Ghost replied hoarsely. “I always thought they were fools for making deals with Vandals, but they did. And of course they wanted us to help them when the Heroes’ children came chasing after them for it.”

“But if Pig-Sticker was there, why would they need you?” Black-Wind asked.

“I’ve told you everything I know,” Ghost replied. “As you can see, it amounts to very little. Now I suggest you leave, before the annoyance of answering your questions outweighs the annoyance of having to kill you.”

Healing-Tears looked at Moon-Singer, who paused before cautiously lowering his sword. “Fair enough,” he said. “We got what we came for.” Moon-Singer glanced at the rest of us before cautiously backing up toward the door and opening it behind him; the rest of us followed after him, with Blue-Flame taking the rear.

As we turned around to watch Blue-Flame leave the trailer, there was a horrible, hoarse noise, something between a bark and a cough. Blue-Flame struggled to run through the open door as a dark, smoky cloud surrounded him. It was a moment before I realized that the barking was coming from Blue-Flame, who was struggling like mad against a black cloud that billowed through the door. The cloud was filled with the same stench of death and decay and faery magic that reeked from Ghost.

Healing-Tears’s body melted into the form of a towering grizzly, and he pulled Blue-Flame from the cloud between his claws. A loud screeching sounded from the cloud, and it hovered there for a moment before it fell back into the trailer and the door slammed behind it.

“What was that?!” I said, shivering despite myself.

“Ghost,” Healing-Tears replied. He looked toward Blue-Flame. “You should not have used the word exile in front of a faery. That was foolish.”

“Hmph,” Blue-Flame grunted. “Let’s just get out of here.”

It must have been a faery, but they were ghastlier and more frightening than any faery I had yet seen.

Moon-Singer scratched his beard. “They might be out here already and waiting for an opportune moment,” He said.

“Maybe they plan on ambushing us when we go inside,” Black-Wind suggested, landing beside Blue-flame.

“That seems an odd plan,” Blue-Flame replied. “Sluagh can fly. Being outside would be to their advantage.”

“They can do a lot more than just fly,” Moon-Singer replied. “Trust me, I know from experience. They won’t necessarily stick to a location just because it gives them that advantage.”

I looked around to see if I could see any sign of the Sluagh. I didn’t notice anything except for some crows cawing in the trees and a couple of vultures circling overhead… but I remembered Wren’s powers and decided that it wasn’t time to rule out the possibility that the birds were more than they seemed. “Are we still going inside, then?” I asked, resting my spear on the ground.

Moon-Singer glanced at the door. “Yes,” He said decisively, shifting to his human form and heading to the front door. “Let’s stick together this time, though.”

We all followed after him, all of us shifting to either our human or animal forms. Most of us wouldn’t have fit inside in the hulking battle forms we had taken against the barghests. Blue-flame trotted in last, his bushy tail swinging behind him.

The inside of the the trailer was dark and musty; a smell like rust permeated the air, and what light peaked through the mostly-boarded windows showed specks of dust dancing through the air. Moon-Singer re-summoned his sword and Healing-Tears pulled out a quarterstaff. It was the kind of place that just gave you bad feelings all over, and the old, poorly kept furniture didn’t dispel that feeling one bit.

There was dark patch on one of the ripped up sofas; I stared at it, trying to make out what it was or if it was anything at all.

“What is it, Silver-Singer?” Healing-Tears asked. I pointed toward the sofa.

A moment passed and and the shadow stepped forward, revealing, well… it must have been a faery, but they were ghastlier and more frightening than any faery I had yet seen, even the pale-skinned rusalka. Their skin was stretched across their bones, and it was cracked and dry and pasty white. Their hair was long and black and scraggly, their teeth yellow and their eyes black like a crow’s. They grinned a mocking grin toward us, and I gripped my spear tightly.

“It’s not nice to come in peoples’ homes uninvited,” the Sluagh said hoarsely, hobbling toward us like an old woman. I wasn’t sure if they were a woman or a man, but their frail, ripped, dress-like garment seemed to suggest a woman. She pointed a cane toward me. “No matter who you are.”

“What do you mean?” I asked warily.

“It was a good day when Silver-Dancer died,” she said darkly. “He was a real thorn in Dreadnaught’s side.”

A gaunt black dog jumped where he had been had been standing; its thin, angler-fish like teeth were bared and it had huge, red eyes the size of saucers.

“What is what?” Moon-Singer asked guardedly, looking around.

“I thought I saw something…” I turned as the ghostly black thing–an animal, maybe? Shifted just out of my view. “Every time I think it’s just my eyes playing tricks on me… I see it again.”

“It could be the sight,” Healing-Tears suggested. “Whatever it is may be completely invisible to our mortal–”

“Watch Out!” I cried. I quickly shifted to a large, humanoid wolf–almost twice my normal size–and shoved Moon-Singer out of the way. A gaunt black dog jumped where he had been had been standing; its thin, angler-fish like teeth were bared and it had huge, red eyes the size of saucers. As soon as it landed, it formed into a vague, misty haze and disappeared into the bushes.

“A dog?” Moon-Singer said, confused.

“If that was a dog, then we’re werechihuahuas,” I retorted. “It’s eyes were half the size of my face!”

Moon-Singer looked toward Healing-Tears in confusion for a moment. “The sight,” Healing-Tears replied. “What do they look like?” he asked me.

“Black and shaggy, and thin,” I replied urgently. “And… toothy.”

“Barghests,” Healing-Tears said, his voice becoming a low growl. He bared his teeth and shifted to an even larger form–I could hardly believe that was possible! Moon-Singer shifted as well, into a giant, wolfish man just as I had done. Both of them were covered in patterned streaks of fur.

“Stag,” Moon-Singer announced as he pulled out his sword, “Grant me your speed!” One of the white knots on his fur lit up like a brilliant silver flame, and Moon-Singer barely scrambled to the side as the Barghest jumped back toward him, its jaws slavering.

Blue-Flame dove onto the barghest, his bushy tail flying behind him as he bit its neck. In his dire form, Blue-Flame looked more like a fiery coated dog than a fox. His fur was patterned with blue green animals, and a leaping fox design glowed bright blue across his shoulders.

The barghests’ crimson blood drained across the ground and it fell to its side, whimpering pathetically. The fight seemed to be over before it began, but the faint black hazes still nagged at the corner of my eyes. It must have been a sign of the Barghests that only those with the sight could discern; none of the others seemed to notice anything was wrong, even ever-watchful Black-Wind, who circled the air above us.

“There’s more of them,” I said, taking a fighting stance and holding out my spear.

“Where?” Blue-Flame asked, glancing around. “I don’t see a damn thing.”

I stood very still for a moment, sniffing the air thoughtfully. The yard was drenched in the syrupy smell of death and rot, but there was another smell shifting through it, the smell of a predatory animal.

I pointed the spear toward a nearby bush; the smoky haze darted forward and materialized into another of the Barghests. I swung my spear toward it and watched in disgust as gore spilled from its belly. Another Barghest was jumping out of the bushes nearby, but my spear end was lodged in the dead animal’s stomach. Things did not look good.

I yanked the spear out and aimed it at the Barghest, but It didn’t turn out to be necessary–Healing-Tears threw the monster aside, it’s neck bleeding between his jaws. He growled as another Barghest jumped on him and tore at his shoulder. Black-Wind’s wings spread a shadow over Healing-Tears as he grabbed the dog and carried it above the trees, dropping it into the web of pine trees below.

“Is that all of them?” Moon-Singer asked, looking around and brandishing his claymore.

I paused, looking around the bushes, trying to discern any more of the smoky hazes. “I think so,” I said at last.

Moon-Singer’s sword disappeared in his hand. “Good,” He said. “Now let’s head inside.”

Somehow I had always assumed that Healing-tears was something a bit.... smaller, like a wolf or a lynx.

“Ghost’s elfdan is supposed to be a couple miles up the road,” Moon-Singer informed us, “In a black double wide trailer.”

“A goth trailer? They must be after Black-Wind’s heart,” I said with a smirk. There was a loud caw from Black-Wind’s perch.

Moon-Singer rolled his eyes. “Time to get serious,” He said. “We have reason to believe that Ghost is quite a powerful faery.”

“Don’t get cocky just because you can play your run to daddy card,” Blue-Flame said with a smirk.

“We’re going to surround the trailer,” Healing-Tears began. “Moon-Singer will attack from the front with Silver-Singer and Blue-Flame. I’ll attack from the rear with Black-Wind.”

Black-Wind flew to the ground beside Healing-Tears. “Are we expecting more than one faery?”

“We can’t really be sure,” Moon-Singer replied. “We’re kind of out in the middle of nowhere, and our sources say that the elfdan should be small. Maybe a couple of other sluagh at the most.”

“Is there any powers they have that we should watch out for?” I asked. “Magical rope hair?”

“They have powerful magic,” Healing-Tears replied. “And they can fly, though that is unlikely to become an issue inside of a small trailer.”

“Let’s get a move on,” Blue-Flame said impatiently.

“Right,” Moon-Singer said, looking at me a little worriedly.

Everyone shifted to their animal forms; Blue-Flame was a fox, just like his mother. Healing-Tears, on the other hand, was a huge brown grizzly bear, his eyes dark and inscrutable. Somehow I had always assumed that Healing-tears was something a bit…. smaller, like a wolf or a lynx. He had more potential to be dangerous than I had realized.

"Black-Wind was willing to spend time with me at a time when a lot of the other ætt members were keeping their distance."

“Your… friend?” I said with a little uncertainty. With their hair…. “friend” was not really the first idea that jumped into my mind.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Blue-Flame said with a sneer.

“No,” I said hastily. “I just didn’t… I was expecting Black-Wind to say something else, that’s all.”

“Like what?” Blue-Flame pressed.

“Best friend,” I said, sitting down. “That’s what he said earlier today. What are we playing?”

“Oware Mancala,” Black-Wind said, motioning to a board filled with twelve depressions.

“I’ve heard of Mancala,” I said. “That african game. Is it a special version?”

“It’s more complicated,” Black-Wind told me before explaining the rules. Black-Wind set me up against Blue-Flame, while Black-Wind started up a game with Healing-Tears.

“Winners go onto to a final showdown,” Black-Wind said dramatically. I smirked and began to play.

“So,” I said, beginning the game with Blue-Flame, “Why did you and Black-Wind decide to dye your hair?”

“Me and Black-Wind are like brothers,” Blue-Flame replied. “It was a way to show our kinship to one another–our loyalty.”

“How did you become so close–if you don’t mind my asking,” I was quick to add.

“It’s fine,” he said somewhat distantly. “Black-Wind was willing to spend time with me at a time when a lot of the other ætt members were keeping their distance.”

I paused for a moment, focusing on my next move. “It bothers me,” I said at length. “In some ways, the ætt acts all accepting, like a big family. But sometimes it seems like we’re accepting the unacceptable.”

“Things aren’t always that simple,” Healing-Tears interjected. “Is it righteous to shun those who disagree with us?”

“It is when they’re doing something you know is wrong,” I replied. “Something that it’s obvious is wrong.”

“Iron-Will believes that it is obvious that accepting Vandals into the ætt is wrong. Should we follow her lead in refusing to accept the unacceptable?” Healing-Tears replied.

“Dammit, Healing-Tears,” Blue-Flame said, annoyed. “What she believes–that’s different.”

“Blue-Flame is right,” Black-Wind agreed. “What she believes is all about excluding people–about being distrustful. Pretty nasty philosophy.”

“But surely you can agree that it’s not always wise to trust everyone,” Healing-Tears replied.

“It’s also cold-hearted not to trust anyone,” I countered.

“Is it, now?” Healing-Tears said, glancing toward Blue-Flame. He scowled and seemed to contemplate a retort, but turned toward me instead.

“I heard they found out your dad wasn’t killed by the fae,” Blue-Flame said, changing the subject.

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” I said. “At the very least, he wasn’t killed by who they thought he was. I want to look into it with Moon-Singer–we have a lead on a fairy named Ghost–but I can’t go with him unless I find someone to, well… Moon-Singer called it ‘babysitting.’”

“You should go,” Black-Wind said to Blue-Flame. “This could be Silver-Singer’s chance to learn what it’s really all about.”

Somehow, everything I had experienced of being a werewolf so far didn’t make me eager to find to find out what ‘it’s really all about.’ “I guess,” I said unenthusiastically.

“The lead-up investigation on Ghost will take awhile,” Healing-Tears replied. “You’ll have plenty of time to practice, and probably at least a few more novice missions to get some experience. Otherwise, Moon-Singer never would have considered letting you go at all.”

“To be honest,” I replied. “I don’t feel like I’ll ever be ready.”

“You’ve just got to work harder to catch up, that’s all,” Blue-Flame replied. What he said reminded me of Iron-Will, but I was damned if I was going to tell him that. It sounded like a good way to get punched in the face.

“So,” Blue-Flame said, capturing more of my pieces, “You think I should go help find Silver-Dancer’s killer. I don’t really see how it affects me…”

“I think Silver-Singer could learn a lot from you,” Black-Wind replied.

“But would I learn anything from Silver-Singer?” Blue-Flame asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Probably not,” Black-Wind admitted. “Unless you’re interested in learning the bagpipes.” Blue-Flame rolled his eyes and Black-Wind leaned toward him. “But if you don’t go, Iron-Will probably will. And I can’t bring myself to stand by and let that happen to poor Silver-Singer.”

Blue-Flame chuckled. “You make a compelling argument.”

“And maybe I can come along too,” Black-Wind added.

“I see what this is really about,” Blue-Flame replied. “Getting some glory for yourself.”

“Mostly curiosity,” Black-Wind replied. “It’s a mystery. You know how I love mysteries.”

“Well,” Blue-Flame said, capturing the last of my pieces, “I don’t want to be responsible for depriving you of a mystery. I suppose I can keep an eye on you two.”

“Thanks,” I said with a grin. Definitely better than Iron-Will. “I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry,” he replied. “I’ll make sure you repay the favor someday.”

"Black-Wind was willing to spend time with me at a time when a lot of the other ætt members were keeping their distance."

"My god... she murdered her?"

“Moon-Singer,” I said as we put away our spears for the day. “What can you tell me about Shining-Tooth?”

Moon-Singer raised an eyebrow. “She’s your aunt,” he said. “Iron-Will and Crow-Feather’s mother. Why?”

“She doesn’t live here anymore. But Crow-Feather said my father and her were very close, and that she was Master of Debate. What happened?”

Moon-Singer sat down on the varnished wood floor. “Where did you hear about this?” he asked, frowning.

I sat down across from him. “Crow-Feather mentioned Shining-Tooth during breakfast… mentioned how close she was with my dad. Then Black-Wind seemed to be implying that she was kicked out of the ætt.”

“She was,” Moon-Singer said.

“Why?”

Moon-Singer looked as though he wasn’t sure if he ought to continue. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, everyone in the ætt already knows but me,” I said a little irritably, “And she was my aunt.”

“Shining-Tooth was a very conservative therian,” Moon-Singer replied. “She was Silver-Dancer’s foil, in a way.”

“I thought my dad always played by the rules,” I replied. “That was what Boar said.”

“He almost always did,” Moon-Singer replied. “But that doesn’t mean that he liked the rules–that he didn’t look for opportunities to bend them. Often, the person who kept Silver-Dancer on the straight and narrow was his sister. If he wanted to let a Vandal into the ætt with open arms, she would advocate killing them. If Silver-Dancer wanted to stage a rescue for a captured therian, she’d convince him that the lives that might be lost during the rescue wouldn’t be worth mounting the attempt. She always pushed the novice Therians hard when Silver-Dancer wanted to give them a break–she thought it was better to work them hard in training than risk them being soft and dying in battle. I hated her more than I hate Iron-Will, but she was a shrewd woman. She knew when battles could be won and how to win them–and she knew how to convince your father she was right.”

“Then why was she kicked out?”

Moon-Singer sighed. “She never trusted former Vandals. Once a Vandal, always a Vandal–that was what she always said. And she felt strongly about…” Moon-Singer frowned. “For Vandals who join the ætt, the rule is, they aren’t allowed to have husbands or families.”

“What?! Why not?!” I said, horrified.

“The concern is that someone as close as a wife or a child is bound to trust a former Vandal implicitly–something we’re not supposed to ever do. The idea is…. it’s never completely safe to trust a Vandal, and there’s always a chance they’re a spy. By keeping them from having children or wives, it keeps them from having someone close enough to them that they’d tell them valuable intelligence.”

“That’s ridiculous on the face of it. Clever-Hooves is leader of the ætt–she must know more secrets about the ætt’s plan than anyone else.”

“Well, Clever-Hooves is unusual,” Moon-Singer replied. “Even that being the case–I suspect the rule is intended more as punishment for therians who chose the wrong side than because of any genuine concern for safety.”

I frowned disapprovingly. But it wasn’t like there was a lot that I could do about it. “So she was kicked out for taking a hostile attitude toward Vandals? If that’s the case, why are Iron-Will and Crow-Feather still here?”

“Oh, no. That’s just the lead up to this story.” Moon-Singer replied. “The reason she was kicked out concerned a Vandal couple that came to the ætt. Gore-Maw and Throat-Slicer, they were called–a werewolf and a and a wenfox, they were the terror of Twin-Hooves for three years running, players in the most damaging raid this ætt has ever seen. We had to rebuild many cabins that year.”

I hadn’t even considered the idea of Twin-Hooves being attacked. Before now, I thought of all the bad things as being out there, and in here, it was safe. Thanks to Moon-Singer, that illusion was now shattered.

“Then Gore-Maw and Throat-Slicer came to us with their baby son and begged for us to accept them into the ætt. They threw themselves on our mercy and said they would follow a patron faithfully for the rest of their days.”

“But Shining-Tooth didn’t trust them.”

“Ha, hell no. She wanted to kill them the minute they stepped into the ætt. Shining-tooth was was still going strong as Master of Debate, and her opinion was a valuable one. But by then, Clever-Hooves was ætt chieftain–and once she was in power, most of the council of Masters had an even more inclusionary stance toward Vandals than Silver-Dancer did. They were allowed to stay at the ætt, and after a year or two, Clever-Hooves formally allowed them to join and take on patrons and new names.”

“I get the feeling things went horribly wrong.”

“Very horribly wrong. For a few years, everything was fine. But then Gore-Maw showed his true colors. He was a spy–and his act had had the whole ætt fooled, except for Shining-Tooth and her family. We chased after him and managed to kill Gore-Maw before he could tell the Vandals any of what he’d learned about Twin-Hooves.

“But his wife–her name was Fox-Fire now–she swore she didn’t know Gore-Maw had planned to betray the ætt, and that to the best of her knowledge, their defection had been genuine. After a lot of augury and a lot of spying, the ætt decided she was telling the truth, and that she and her son could stay with Twin-Hooves.

“Shining-Tooth wouldn’t have it. She threatened to take it to the high council of heroes, and when they wouldn’t overrule the ruling of the council of masters, she took justice into her own hands. She challenged Wound-Mender to a duel, and the loser would have to leave the ætt forever. Fox-Fire didn’t have to accept the duel–she could have gone to me to resolve the conflict peaceably. But she thought that nothing less than a duel would satisfy Shining-Tooth’s rage, so she agreed.”

“It was to the death… And she lost?”

“No–Fox-Fire won the duel. Duels are never to the death among Heroes, Brian. What do you think we were, savages?” Moon-Singer asked, staring at me pointedly. I avoided eye contact. I wasn’t too sure I didn’t think they were savages. “Shining-Tooth was enraged that the former vandal had won against her, one of the greatest therians of our generation. Fox-Fire turned her back to accept congratulations from her family and friends. That was when Shining-Tooth struck.”

“My god… she murdered her?”

“Everyone was shocked. Shining-Tooth was always a stickler for the rules, not a renegade acting out of passion. She was an old and respected member of the community, so she was simply asked to retire and leave the ætt. She went to live at Icy-Gale. The part that makes me sick is that I just know that once she got to that conservative ætt, everyone secretly congratulated her on doing ‘the right thing.’

“I worry about her son, too. He’s got a grudge now on that whole family–his mother died right before his eyes. I’m sure it’s because of him that Black-Wind had a thing or two to say about Shining-Tooth to Crow-Feather. Blue-Flame is Black-Wind’s best friend.”

“No wonder he got so angry,” I said. If I was Black-Wind, I’m not even sure I could stand to hang around the same ætt where my best friend’s mom was murdered in cold blood. “The whole thing sounds really, really messed up.”

“Which is why I hope this doesn’t travel past this room,” Moon-Singer replied. “I was this close to telling you none of it. But everyone else in the ætt knows. It only seems fair for you to know too… especially if you want to stay pack leader during missions.”

“Stay pack leader?” I said. “I didn’t know I had ever been elected pack leader.” It was a lot of responsibility. A lot of responsibility I wasn’t sure I wanted when I was already such… such a fish out of water.

“I was talking to Path-Maker about your mission,” he said. “You really took charge from what I hear. Way to go, son of Silver-Dancer.”

“Ugh,” I said. “I love my dad, but… please don’t call me that.” To be honest, I was still pretty mixed up even about whether I loved him. Moon-Singer’s approval meant a lot more to me then than my father did by a long shot.

Moon-Singer laughed. “Sorry. Don’t worry. Soon you’ll have a reputation quite your own.”