DATE:  Monday, November 2, 1998
Place: Rocky Beach at Lake Arthur

---- Recall start ----

Rocky Beach
A small, narrow beach of sand and sun-warmed rock stretches out along the 
   eastern shore of Lake Arthur, marking a break in the forests that border 
   the clear water.  The lake's smooth surface spreads outward from the 
   waterline like a sheet of tinted glass, sparkling in the midday sunlight; 
   the bright rays pierce the darkness below, illuminating some of the granite 
   boulders that litter the sandy floor, and occasionally glinting as they 
   touch a passing fish.  Trees line the edge of the water, the limbs of the 
   shore forests reaching out to shade the northern and southern ends of the 
   beach.
Just to the east, the stony ground slopes gently upward to a large meadow; 
   north and south of the beach, thick forest shrouds the lakeshore in a veil 
   of leaves and wood.  The water of the lake spreads out westward, the wooded 
   far shore visible in the blurred distance.  The island rises from the lake 
   almost due west of here, a rocky oasis resting on the glassy surface.
Contents:
Quiet

Currently on this highly windy and cold fall midday in the general St. Claire 
   area, it is 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5.6 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming 
   from the northeast at 34.2 mph. The ground is wet. Skies are hazy with a 
   small chance of precipitation.
Miranda has, by the time anyone arrives, shifted back to homid and is taking 
   in the scenery with a certain amount of relish, not moving far from one 
   spot.
If Miranda was still in a sensitive smelling form, it would be hard to not 
   know that there was a wet wolf in the area. But Andrea does not step out of 
   the bushes until she has circled and scented this city-perfumed homid. When 
   she assures herself that the wolf trail does lead to this human and not 
   away, and that the Garou stands as one of rank, she finally shifts and 
   steps out into view.
Miranda turns at the sound of approach, smiling quickly. "Oh, hello, there. 
   Might you be Andrea?"
Quiet studies Miranda for a few moments more. Her shoulders raise and fall 
   with two deep breaths before she finally speaks. "I am."
Andrea studies Miranda for a few moments more. Her shoulders raise and fall 
   with two deep breaths before she finally speaks. "I am."

Andrea's desc:
Thick black hair is braided loosely out of this woman's face, with wisps of 
   curly bangs above the twin slashes of dark brown eyebrows. Andrea is 
   dressed in new clothing that looks warm: a dark blue flannel shirt, blue 
   jeans, and short tan moccasins. Around her waist is a leather belt, with a 
   brightly-colored woven bag hanging from the left side. She wears a diamond 
   stud in her right ear, and a gold chain bracelet with a heart locket on her 
   right wrist. On her right hand is a carved wooden ring. Looking to be in 
   her late twenties, Andrea stands at about 5'3"; her build is slender but 
   well-muscled. Two shadow-black eyes look back at you from under thick dark 
   brown lashes, distant and serene. Her skin is a creamy tan.

Miranda offers out her hand with a pleased smile in ritualistic human 
   greeting. "Ah, good. Miranda Richardson, J.J. told me I would be able to 
   find you out here."
Andrea holds her hand out in return. At the mention of J.J.'s name, some of 
   the tension of meeting a stranger on her territory relaxes out of the 
   adren's shoulders. "Miranda." Her skin is slightly rough and still cold 
   from the dip into the lake. "I'm afraid J.J. didn't let me know you were 
   coming."
Miranda smiles with a hint of confidential wryness. "J.J. was never good at 
   the social niceties," she says quietly. "Miranda Richardson," she repeats, 
   "Glass Walker Galliard, from the Sept of the Wind Catchers, in Chicago. I 
   came in after I heard about the problem. I'm sorry about your packmate," 
   she says, voice dropping once more and with genuine sympathy.
Andrea's face tightens, but not with the accompanying narrowed eyes and 
   creased forehead of anger. The galliard is probably all too familiar with 
   the shuttered emotions that accompany recent loss. She nods, accepting the 
   sympathy, then says, "It sounds as if you know who I am, but I am Andrea 
   Wyatt, called Moon-Laughs-Quiet, Voice of the Goddess for the Children of 
   Gaia, crescent Master of the Rite for the Hidden Walk, and child of Uktena 
   in Ouroboros. These are our pack's lands." She waves a hand about at the 
   last statement, then drops it again. "Have you seen J.J., then?"
Miranda's mood is in keeping with Andrea's, sober without being oppressive. 
   She nods once in reply to the question. "I stopped by there when I got into 
   town yesterday. She told me what happened, and what the problem is," she 
   says, with a slight smile flicering into life briefly at this admission. 
   "She told me that I might find you out here. I came because I know the Rite 
   of the Winter Wolf, I hope I'm not intruding."
Andrea's face relaxes momentarily with a flash of relief. "No, you're not. I 
   was preparing to leave after the moot, but I have a young cub in the tribe 
   and other duties. I'm glad she thought of someone after all."
Miranda laughs, with a hint of grimness to it. "I think she's probably 
   regretting doing it, but she did." Her expression saddens momentarily, then 
   straightens. "Have you spoken with her recently?"
Andrea shakes her head. "Not since I went out to see her, and she made her 
   request. She usually passes any wish to see me through either my packmate 
   Patrick or her chosen man, Nigel."
"I shouldn't be surprised," the Galliard says with soft amusement again, more 
   to herself than to the theurge. But she then focuses once more. "She won't 
   admit it, but she's showing signs of desperation. With full moon on us, 
   well, I wouldn't be surprised if she snapped and ended it one way or the 
   other. The Caern is yours, but I would recommend, if you would allow doing 
   the Rite at all," her blue eyes study Andrea at this, "that it be soon." 
   The faint smile quirks into life again. "She would never have called me 
   otherwise."
Andrea nods thoughtfully. Finally, her warm alto voices the concern about the 
   ritual itself. "What, exactly, does the rite entail? Has it proven 
   dangerous for caerns in the past?" She holds up her right hand with the 
   fingers together. "I know some things about the ritual, but not like one 
   that has been taught."
Miranda shakes her head. "It is a hallowed rite, but no threat to a properly 
   guarded Caern. Stories are told about the person...undergoing the rite," 
   she says after a slight pause and a catch in her voice, "then they leave 
   while those at the Rite sing them off. They find someplace secluded, and 
   commit seppuku. Or, in my Family's case, it's generally a silver bullet."
Andrea nods. She then tilts her head slightly to the left. "What about those 
   too wounded to pull themselves away? J.J. might be able to, though it will 
   be with a loss of dignity she'll hate. Our caern is within a steep valley."
Miranda frowns briefly as she considers this. "I've never encountered such a 
   problem, but I'm sure something can be done to accomodate it. Knowing J.J., 
   though, I suspect being helped would be far worse. Something subtle would 
   need to be done," she concludes, with a slight smile.
Andrea nods agreement, though she doesn't offer any suggestions. She chews on 
   her lower lip lightly.
Miranda muses for a moment, then asks, "Is there any way that may be easier to 
   travel than others? If the Rite was set up, so that leaving would be 
   directed a certain way, and then we prepared the way beforehand..."
Andrea considers, then nods. "Perhaps. There are longer ways that do not rise 
   so sharply."
Miranda smiles faintly. "That may work, then. I am at your disposal, Andrea, 
   if you could help me to prepare, and tell me how things are done here, I 
   will work to have everything work smoothly."
Andrea studies the Glass Walker for several more moments, then nods again. "I 
   would like to do a ritual with you tonight," she says. "One that both of us 
   know, so we might get a feel for how the other works. We can do it here, on 
   the island." She gestures at the lake behind her.
Miranda looks over to the island, but then nods with a warm smile. "That would 
   be fine. Do you have a suggestion, or might I?"
Andrea motions with her right hand, palm up from the chest out. "If you have 
   something in mind, go ahead."
Miranda nods graciously, then proceeds. "Would you happen to know the Rite of 
   Passage?"
Andrea nods in answer. "I sent one of my tribe's cubs just little more than a 
   week ago."
Miranda smiles swiftly. "Wonderful. J.J. mentioned needing to find someone to 
   perform the rite. I would be honored to assist you with it, if you would."
Andrea finishes discussing the details of the Rite of Passage, then smiles. 
   "Good. That sounds workable." She glances over the water of the lake, then 
   turns back to Miranda. "I have one other request, if you have the time."
Miranda's eyebrows go up with slight surprise, but there is nothing but open 
   curiousity in her expression. "I'm sure I can make time for it, under the 
   circumstances. What can I help you with?"
Andrea takes a moment to answer. Her gaze returns to the waters. "It may be 
   that no other Garou will make the request of me. I could hope it so. But I 
   don't want to have to make any other suffer through waiting, if I can help 
   it." She turns to look directly at Miranda again. "Would you teach the 
   ritual to one here before you go?"
Miranda initially blinks, but then smiles, faintly rueful. "I had considered 
   that on my flight in. Do you have any Galliards of rank here? I'm afraid 
   that's a subject that rarely gets mentioned from J.J.'s infrequent enough 
   reports."
Andrea shakes her head. "We have one of the second rank in the Fianna, but 
   frankly I would hesitate to pick him. He is much more a fighter than a 
   leader of ritual."
Miranda blinks again, this time with surprise, giving a slight frown. 
   "Traditionally, the rite is taught and performed by Galliards...well," she 
   says, moving on briskly, "I think I can manage to stay the time necessary 
   to do so, if someone of proper temperment and ability could be found."
Andrea nods. "You can meet him, if you wish to make your own assessment," she 
   says. "He has a strong heart, if not a mystical mind. His name is Steven, 
   and he runs in the alpha's pack, Blackwatch.":
Miranda nods. "I should, for fairnesses sake. And, I should also meet your 
   Alpha if I'm going to be here that long as well."
Andrea nods. "You will also have to meet at least the Warder or one of his 
   Guardians to come to the caern. I will see what I can arrange for you." She 
   hesitates a moment, then says, "I am a crescent moon, but I will learn it 
   if you can find none other more suitable, and you will teach me. Such 
   things are my...responsibility here."
Miranda reaches out a hand to lightly touch the Gaian's shoulder in a 
   friendly, companionable gesture and a slight smile. "If I can find no 
   other," she says warmly, "I would be honored. I know how your tribe 
   generally feels about this Rite."
Andrea offers a small smile at the empathy, as she ducks her head down. "If 
   J.J. was not a full moon, I would have counselled her otherwise." She 
   raises her head again to look into Miranda's eyes. "But at least we of the 
   One Tree can recognize when living is a torture, and when a soul should be 
   sent to rebirth. She has no skill outside her body that would have made 
   such a life worth living."
Miranda sighs, with soft exasperation. "Not for her, at least." She shakes her 
   head, then says apologetically, "I've taken up too much of your time. What 
   time should I return tonight?"
Andrea considers the question, then asks, "Is moonrise too early? I know you 
   will have to gather the cubs."
Miranda reflexively checks her watch, before shaking her head. "No, that gives 
   me enough time to get back and get some work done before having to come 
   back. Should we come here again? Is there a better way to get in touch with 
   you?"
Andrea shakes her head. "We don't have any electronic way on the island. My 
   pack does have a city phone." She tilts her head to the right, then rattles 
   off a number. "That's my packmate Patrick, though any of the pack may be 
   there. If you get an answer there, any of my pack can relay a message to me 
   very quickly."
"Ahhh," the Glass Walker says softly, with a knowing grin. "I will try to give 
   him a call before coming out, then, so you can be ready for us."
Andrea nods. Her eyes turn to follow something behind Miranda and she frowns 
   slightly. "Pardon me," she excuses herself. "But the purity spirit is 
   restless. I will make sure whatever is bothering it is resolved by 
   moonrise." She shakes her head and brings her eyes back in focus. Her voice 
   is warmer than strict cordiality would require. "Mother watch your path."
Miranda smiles, and gives a slightly formal, Oriental-flavored bow of her 
   upper body. "And yours, Andrea. I will see you later tonight." With a flash 
   of a slightly wider smile, she turns back, heading into the woods in homid.

---- Recall end ----