Early in the morning, you rise from your sleep in your lupus form, having now grown quite comfortable with sleeping on bare earth as a wolf. You notice the Union St. Good Fellow's, the pack of Bone Gnawers who first took you in, awake ahead of nearly everyone else, highly unusual for them. Grandfather Silvertorn seems to be handfuls of berries and nuts into his talisman bound backpack, while the rest of his pack straightens out their clothes, and gathers up their meager personal belongings. Your wolf senses keenly aware of body language, you realize they seem nervous, and moving hurriedly and with purpose, also unusual for them. They group up and begin to walk out of the Lunar Grove, Grandfather Silvetron walks past you, pausing briefly. "Cubs, it was a real pleasure to meet you. I'm sure we'll cross paths again. You'll make fine Garou indeed." He smiles, and gives a polite nod, then begins to lead his pack away.
"Going somewhere, Silvertorn?" Speaks ther stern voice of "Silver-Jaws-Which-Tear-At-The-Heart-of-The-Wyrm-Itself". The Goodfellows stop in their tracks, as Grandfather Silvertorn turns around, his old, frail form trembling slightly, perhaps from the chill of the early morning air, perhaps in terror.
"As a matter of fact, I was." He replies, his voice raspy. "We fulfilled our duties. We kept the cubs safe, we brought them here, and we've even helped keep an eye on them. It's time we return back to our territory, and take care of our own."
"Back to the city? The hellhole slums? That is what requires your presence more than this sacred site of Gaia?" Sneers Silver-Jaws.
"All places are of Gaia." replies Silvertorn, struggling to keep his voice steady.
"The cities are shared by the Wyrm and the Weaver. Your miserable kin have eeked out an existence in the alleyways their entire lives, they can wait for your return a few more weeks while we prepare this place for opening." The elder Silver Fang says.
"Final Days indeed, when the glorious kings would call upon the pitchfork peasants to defend them." Says Silvertorn dismissively as he turns his back towards Silver-Jaws. In a blur of motion, the Silver Fang has shifted into his war form, a truly magnificent sight of pure breed, and has rushed forward. Not caught unaware, Grandfather Silvertorn spins around, managing to defend himself against the worst of the attack, but quickly finds himself on the losing defensive as Silver-Jaws snaps and tears at his fur, his attacks just barely missing.
With a mighty shove that must have consumed all of the aged Bone Gnawer's strength, Grandfather Silvertorn shoves the Silver Fang back a few yards, just as the rest of the Union St. Goodfellows take fighting stances, surrounding their alpha.
"Have you forgotten the lessons of the past, Beasly?" Snarls Silver-Jaws. "Perhaps hiding the reminders behind that stupid scarf has dimmed your memory. Should I teach you again the consequences of failing to protect Gaia?"
"I remember them all to well, Fang. You will not intimidate myself or my pack though. We have a duty to Gaia that can only be fulfilled in the city, and that is where we will return." Grandfather Silvertorn watches carefully, as he and his pack slowly withdraw from the Lunar Grove, and make their way out of the Hidden Glade.
"And so the tribal and pack divisions begin." says Crazy-Heart in a low whisper, havig snuck up behind you during the comotion.
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