It’s been an awfully rough week. Having just read the post of the weak vs. the strong has got me thinking. Its funny, feeling weak I decided to re-read my character’s backgrouns story and it kinda helps- a little.
I thought you guys out there might like to share in it. The writing goes from basic to almost like a real writer in parts. I hope you like it.

A Scarlet-Fur Deathsong
Raised by her mother and pack, Scarlet-Fur was always the adventurous and bold member of the pack. At 2 years old, she was third ranked female and was already vying for the beta spot. Where the others would run from the humans, it was she who would move closer, checking them out while making sure the others got away safely. While she too didn’t like or trust humans, she had an irresistible curiosity and found them intriguing. When she was small, Pack-Mother had taken in an orphaned pup. Where most of the pack looked a bit down on the new pup, Scarlet-Fur and the stray pup took an instant liking to each other and grew very close. Unlike she, Little Howler was small and meek, the Omega, but had a kind and loving heart who loved to play and sing. Once given the OK from Pack-Mother, Little Howler would sing with all this voice, jumping around all excited, always raising the spirits of pack with his comical antics and enthusiasm. Sometimes when he was feeling bold, he would even challenge Scarlet-Fur to see who could howl the loudest, but always just in play and he’d always back down. When they were off on their own scouting or wandering, she would try to inspire him to be more, to have confidence in himself. But he felt his small size would never allow him to be anything more. He wished he could be strong and brave as she. She would always quickly counter that with that attitude, he never would be. “Don’t think cause you’re smaller it makes any difference, great packs have been led by small wolves. Its pride and attitude that makes the difference. Be proud of whom you are, not ashamed or feel inferior; as wolves we are the noblest creatures alive. You give up way too easily; you got to keep fighting Little Howler-don’t give up”.

The first change came when she was half way thru her 3rd year (human-18). One night when the moon was black, the pack was resting when an evil presence appeared, fowl and nasty. At first Scarlet-Fur thought it was just another pair of humans walking in the woods, but they were different it made their hackles stand on end. As the pack retreated further into the woods the humans followed, tracking them easily in the darkness. In a blink one of the humans pounced on Rabbit-Chaser, but it was not hands that grabbed, they were claws. As the pack faced off against the human, they watched it change before their eyes into a great dark beast standing over 7 feet all, a tongue that struck out like a snake and covered in oozing open sores. In the middle of the fray, one attacked Little Howler who bared his fangs on it. For the first time, she and the others of the pack saw the little wolf fight with real ferocity and passion, with true confidence and pride. He had the thing in his teeth, crushing it, but somehow it got a claw free and ripped thru his belly.

Seeing him fall invoked a blinding rage she had never experienced before. She’s not sure what happened next, but the next thing she remembers is towering over her pack on two legs, foul blood dripping from her mouth and rotted flesh clinging to her human like claws. The pack had retreated several yards away from her, now looking at her thru startled eyes. Rabbit-Chaser stood hackles up at her as he guarded Singer-at-Dawn, who had a nasty claw gash across his left shoulder. (The faint scent of Singer-at-Dawn’s blood was also on her claws). But her attention quickly shifted from them and her bizarre form to that of Little Howler. Sitting down next to his mangled body, she was once again on four legs. Looking up at her, she smiled at him as she rubbed his muzzle telling him how proud she was him. Weakly he smiled and then grew still. She howled from the deepest reaches of her soul; singing his death song to the beyond. She spent the rest of the night digging a hole to place him in and covered the mound with rocks. She felt she had to protect him from the scavengers who would be coming. (Oddly, not something she was ever compelled to do when any of the other pack members had died.) She kept a small piece of his hide.

The pack remained there for a day and decided it was time to move. But Scarlet-Fur wouldn’t go; she wanted to remain with Little Howler. Pack-Mother sent the others on. When they were gone, she pounced on Scarlet-Fur, harshly throwing her to the ground. Her teeth were in Scarlet-Fur’s face,
“You just want to roll over and die? Is that’s what you want? I have no problem killing such a weak pup, who disgraces her fallen brother by cowering like a mangy dog! Mourn him, but don’t you ever let his or any loss be an excuse to give up without a fight. NEVER GIVE UP Scarlet-Fur! It’s only going to get harder. Carry your anger and sorrow with you and let it make you strong. You alone among us can go out and fight the evil that killed Little Howler; you’re special like your father. But it means nothing if you have no honor and neither I nor your father’s pack will allow such a disgrace to live. So what will it be, will you die with a whimper or with your teeth bared?” Hearing the words of wisdom from Pack-Mother, she showed her teeth. She told Scarlet-Fur to find her father’s pack to the North near a small town called (name) in the woods; they were special, like her. As Pack-Mother headed off towards the rest of the pack, she looked back at Scarlet-Fur and smiled. “Make me proud, make him proud.” And ran off into the trees. Lingering a moment longer, she grabbed the patch of Little-Howler’s hide and set off to find her father and his pack.

The ravens (which she was astonished to learn that she could now actually talk to) were particularly helpful at directing her to the town; in gratitude she would share whatever she caught. Once evening, she finally made it to the edge of the town. Immediately, she was overwhelmed by the stink of diesel and human filth. The “town” itself was made up of a various human houses, several small buildings, a diesel house, and a food house. She could not fathom why her mother would send her to such a place or how her father’s pack could actually be there. But there was no way to know unless she proceeded, so she headed towards the open areas like the ravens told her.

She was “greeted” by a large grizzly looking human who stepped out of the shadows as she made her way past the first few buildings. He looked down at her indifferently as she proceeded in.

“Where do you think you’re going? You have no business here, run along.” She told the human she did have business here, she was sent there to find her father, (father’s name). But thought this was useless, since the human wouldn’t be able to understand her. So she continued in. He looked at her and again told her to get lost, now advancing on her with the human equivalent of raised hackles. But she remained undaunted. “I’m looking for someone or some information, that’s all. I’m not leaving till I find what I’m looking for. Then I’ll move on. Stupid human, this is totally pointless. Do you even understand me? No, of course you don’t.” To her utter shock,
“Yes, I understand you, puppy. Loud and clear. Now you’re not welcome here so get lost!”

“The hell I will, DOG!” With that she went into fight mode: hackles raised, ears back, and teeth bared. He in turn went into his fight mode, but rather than pull a weapon (as she had expected) he grew into a hulking beast, part human part wolf; the same she had been the night Little Howler died. He was just like her, even more of a reason she wasn’t going anywhere and jumped at him. It became quickly apparent that she was no match for the Grizzly-Man and soon found herself down with a broken leg, clawed and torn up, and barely able to move. Yet she wouldn’t give up, (Pack-Mother’s words wouldn’t allow her to (“Don’t ever give up Scarlet-Fur.”). She still tried to stand and fight, crawling on the ground snarling and snapping up at the beast. As Grizzly-Man moved in for the kill, he was stopped just as his claw descended upon her. From behind him, surprisingly, came a wolf; very large gray-black with a scared right eye. Behind him from what she could see were several humans and even one or two other wolves. She could tell the gray black one was the alpha. “It seems you may just belong here, after all.” He turned and walked away.

Another from amongst the group, a beige-blond wolf approached. “Alright girl, you let us take a look at that or you’re going to die. Doesn’t matter to us either way.” Though she tried to keep her guard up, something deep in his eyes settled her and she found herself relenting. Now taking the form of a human, he gently carried her to a small house. When she woke, the human man was sitting near. His name was Ranier Waldmeister (translation: Wise Warrior and Master of the Forest). He explained that her father was a member of this Caern, but had died several years ago in a fight against “the Wyrm”. He asked who she was and where she came from, but she shared little (not really ready to trust yet.) He merely smiled and proceeded to tell her about her great heritage, as a Garou. Although she really didn’t understand, she did understand the words honor, strength, and pride. As he spoke, she found there was something very compelling about him. There was such an air of nobility and power about him, unlike anything she’d ever encountered be it wolf or human. Her instincts beckoned her trust at least this one, which she then shared her tale.

She spent the next two years learning about the world of Garou and her tribe, the Get of Fenris. They were a tough breed, that’s for sure. She felt honored (and though she’d never admit it, even a little intimidated at times) to have been taken into such a tough tribe; for they sure didn’t make it easy for her. She found herself drawn to the beige-blond wolf, Ranier. Where most of the Caern seemed to constantly challenge her fangs and claws, he routinely challenged her mind. (“Stupid Lupis” was his fond little knick-name for her.) He was a member of a group within the tribe called the Fangs of Garam, a group who caution the temperance of Rage, while a great tool in combat and gives you strength, could be harmful if left unchecked. She is reminded the night of her first change and the scent of Singer-at-Dawn’s blood on her claws. Within the Get, they
The Fangs also believed that the use of wisdom to prevent the spread of the Wyrm was as important as brute strength in fighting it. The Fangs argue that a battlefield is a battlefield-and true warriors can fight on any ground, even a battleground of the mind. (Although this is a somewhat controversial subject even within the tribe.) The majority of the other Garou tribes hate the Get, and assume they are nothing more than ignorant suicidal brutes who are easy prey to mind twisting and manipulation. They try to prey upon the Get’s so called “brutish ignorance”. It is important when dealing with such deceivers (as is one of the primary functions of the Fangs) to see thru their little games and defeat them on their own ground.
Thru all the harsh training, fighting, and insults, she’s always kept the piece of Little Howler’s hide close. Every now and then when the moon was black she would again sing his name to the stars; thus earning her name from the elders: Scarlet-Fur-Sings-A-Death-Song. When she was finally ready, she returned to the forest to visit her pack and share all she had learned and experienced. But once again, tragedy. After days of searching her territory with no luck or sign, she found them-or what was left. All she found of her pack was blood, bits of fur, rifle shells, and the scent of gunpowder. The whole area stunk with the tainted scent of human poachers mingled with her pack mates’ blood; but more subtlety, Wyrm. Given the relative freshness of the scents, it had only been a couple days. The evil had claimed all those she loved; she would hunt them like they had hunted her pack, she would have her revenge.

To be Continued