The Whitefang Pack

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Golden light spilled over the threshold into the vast and aged hall, illuminating the eroded wood in the floorboards. It vanished when the doors shut with a sturdy thud behind Cain. He paused while his eyes adjusted to the setting sun filtering through a series of tall, arched windows. Each one framed a snapshot of the surrounding nature reserve, the distant watchtower of the training grounds, and the grassy mountains beyond it. He continued down the crimson banner carpet that muffled the creaking beneath his feet, past sizeable portraits of modern art hanging against the walls, a golden halo shining off of each canvas, courtesy of the setting sun.

He moved onward to the head of the room, where the floorboards underfoot rose into a broad, sweeping staircase that elevated at the left side of the room. The bannister had been carved into the likeness of snarling wolves, and the chandelier swinging overhead had banished all shadows to the deepest crevices of the room. He moved in favor of his right, through the lofty and pointed archway and into a substantial community kitchen. The wall sconces lit up along the walls, filling the room with an artificial yellow hue. He pursued the center of the room with purpose, Cain's nimble fingers tracing along the granite countertops of the kitchen island. Holding it in place stood two mahogany cabinets, the glare of the varnish indicating a new, fresh look, entirely out of place with the chipped floorboards.

Between them was a small liquor cabinet, a glass pane granting leeway in viewing the one-dozen alcohol bottles inside. Above them was a rack designed to hold glasses by the stem, each styled with unique and intricate designs. Cain grabbed a bottle of tequila by the neck and set it on the countertop above. He dug around for a shot glass, and closed the cabinet behind him with a nudge of his shoe. He poured the liquor with an untrained hand, liquid tumbling down the side of the glass and splashing across the granite. He wiped it away with his sleeve.

Before downing the shot, he turned to stare out the massive bay window, the largest feature of the kitchen. He was greeted by the sight of towering pine trees and their steadily growing shadows. Just beyond this thick of trees was a cliffside known as the Crags, and beyond that was unknown terrain. His gaze still trained on the horizons, he brought the glass to his lips, took a beat, and down the drink with a single gulp. His face twisted at the bitter taste, clearly unaccustomed to the biting qualities of alcohol. Cain had never been much of a drinker, but after today's training session, he felt he deserved a boost to his night.

The silence following was deafening, and he suddenly realized that he had never had the Pack House to himself before. Such a vast house to one person seemed lonesome. However, he didn't bother to worry about such things, as he knew that separate training sessions were coming to an end. Soon enough, a few pack members would come along to enliven the setting once again.

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Open to all. Non-rapid replies.

The quiet of the house was shattered in an instant as a small whirlwind tore through it. Hurtling towards Cain, the little werewolf pulled to a hard stop in front of him, a huge grin splitting Bug's face in two. With barely a second allowed to process his arrival, his words started rattling out of him without pause for breath, bounding on his toes with enthusiasm.
"Good evening! Did you have a good day? I did! I went running all around the reserve and I wanted to go up into the mountains but then I saw a rabbit and I wanted to know where the rabbit lived so I chased after it and we ran really far and then the rabbit stopped, just out of nowhere. And I stopped too to see what it was looking at and this big shadow loomed over me and I looked up, really slow, really really slow, all ominous-" Every letter in ominous was pronounced. "-and the rabbit was like 'oh no!' and disappeared and there was this huge bear looming over me and he sort of stared at me and I stared at him and we just kind of stared at each other for a moment and then he lunged at me with those big bear claws, all sharp and they were as big as - as big as-"

Bug's eyes darted around the room, searching for an adequate comparison. "As big as your arm! And he just swiped at me and I was like no! and ducked out of the way and I felt his claws go over my head and I was like 'well I can't let him attack the others, I have to protect them!' So I went for him too, like-" He made a sound somewhere between a terrifying war cry and a strangled cat as he mimed pouncing. "And that showed him! He was like, he realised it was a really bad idea hanging around, and he turned and fled, and - and that's how I protected the pack today!"
He drew himself up proudly, despite the fact that the story was almost certainly entirely fabricated.

"You should've seen him, though. He was even taller than you, and he had teeth the size of..." He needed another comparison. "This bottle! What're you drinking? Can I have some?"
Bug's attention was immediately diverted from his story as he raised on tiptoes to try to sniff the bottle of tequila. "I think it's gone off. It doesn't smell good. Do you want me to make you a better drink?"
He liked Cain, and Bug was always excited to show off his culinary abilities, questionable though others may find most of his creations. The little werewolf seemed willing to eat just about anything, and would quite happily combine anything he could find into a meal, regardless of how badly the flavours might go together. Milkshakes, though, he was actually quite talented at making.

He looked up at Cain with bright eyes, eager to help however he could. Any errand he might need running, any small task he might want completing, Bug would leap at the opportunity to make himself useful to the pack, and maybe earn some praise - not that he'd ever admit to wanting approval from his anyone.

wild tried to get in after bug, to ask Cain where she should put today's dinner, but the door closed before she could get in. " God dang it" she cursed to herself as she tried to reach the doorknob. she was the size of a wolf even in her human form and it was hard to reach things. She knocked on the door hopeing that Cain or bug would open the door. '' let me in please" she asked from outside the door.

she hurt from the last hunt, the deer were starting to fight back and they could trample. she had a few new cuts and they were bleeding by now. her tail was turning more red and she needed to try to get it out again. she looked at her watch an saw it was allmost time for dinner and she needed to get in soon.

Emerald had been looming silently in the shadows of the forest, her bright blue eyes piercing through the veils of darkness, the hood of her cloak concealing her face. She had recently been out searching for herbs and such that would assist the pack in any of their medicinal and health requirements. She was no medic, just enjoyed keeping herself busy as idle hands never did have a good outcome.

The girl slipped silently through the the shadows, faint rays of sunlight glimmered through yet was quickly dying as the sun began to settle behind the mountains. She held a bag close to her body, various herbs and mushrooms inside being transported back to the packs home. She stopped suddenly when she heard the snapping of a tree branch and she looked over her shoulder. She didn’t see anything strange, so she continued on, yet hurried a little faster.

Emerald made it back to the house and walked up the steps, meeting Wild on the porch. A friendly smile spread across her pale pink lips as she hurried to get the door for her. “Sorry, sometimes I feel like half the people in here are deaf.” She said jokingly and opened the door. “After you.” She said softly.

" thank you miss" she says entering with the deer on her back. she approaches Cain and shows him the large deer. " where do you want me to put this mr!" she asked him with a smile. She barely made it up to his waist, anyone's waist really, busy she was as chipper as she could be.

the cuts on her were starting to bleed even more and she got a bit nervous it wanting to bleed all over the floor of the pack house, especially with all of the parts of the territory she had stained allready. she usually kept a pack of band aids that she would make herself., but she ran out yesterday and it was rare that anyone find any material that could be used as band-aid materal.

Looking around as the door opened, Bug beamed at the sight of the two women, offering them an enthusiastic wave as they approached.
"Good evening!" he chirped at them both. In one quick movement, he hopped up onto the counter, sitting with his legs dangling over the side, so that he was a little closer to eye height with the adults - most of them, at least. Bug had always sort of liked the fact that he was taller than Wild. It was a rare thing indeed, and one the twelve-year-old very much appreciated.

"I was just about to make Cain a drink but I was telling him about my bear fight and it was wicked and do you want to hear the story 'cause-" he blinked at Wilder, tilting his head at her. It made his curls fall around his face. "What did you do? Why's there loads of blood all over you? Do you want me to do some first aid? I'm really good at first aid."
Bug was not really good at first aid.
"Did you meet the bear? He was massive, wasn't he? Did he go for you? I scared him off and he won't dare come back here for ages! Did you have a good day, Em? Did you find food?" His eyes widened with excitement at the thought of food.

" sadly no bear, much to big for me to carry back here anyways" she said as she looked up at him her red eyes sparkling. " that sounds cool though, alass it was just a deer. every time I go hunting they seam to get smarter about how to attack me" she says try to downplay just how much the cuts, bruises, and scratches hurt. " I may be small bug but I'm strong, a dip in the lake should do fine" she said with a smile.

Emerald chuckled at the youngsters enthusiasm and she grinned at him as she set her bag down on the table. “My day was good, bug..no food here.. I think we have Wild to thank for the food.” She responded with a friendly smile as she rummaged through her bag. “Wild... You need to get those wounds looked at.” She suggested softly as she took out a few herbs. She didn't know the whereabouts of the packs medic so she decided to take matters into her own hands. “May I help you?” She asked softly as she continued to gather the supplies she would need to patch Wild up.

Bug nodded in agreement with Emerald. "Yeah, you gotta get your wounds looked at, 'cause if you go swimming in the lake with open wounds then they might get infected, and if they get infected then... then maybe your whole arm'll get infected and it'll fall off. Like a zombie. Or we'll have to amputate it. Did you know that there was this one doctor who was so good at amputations he did one in thirty seconds and he also amputated his assistant's fingers but that was an accident and then the assistant died of infection and so did the patient and that's why you've got to be careful of infections."
He nodded solemnly, as though he'd just delivered very serious medical advice. "Deer are really smart though. You can't underestimate the intelligence of a deer. One time I thought I got lost in the woods but then I was found by a deer and he guided me back to the cabins. He had big antlers like-" he waved his hands as high above his head as he could reach. "He wouldn't even have fit in the door to the house, I don't think. D'you want any help with first aid?"

"okay fine but only because you asked nicely" she said in a slight huff. she walked over set the deer on the table before walking over to the both of them. " don't make it hurt to much " she said slightly scared of the herbs. " I'm a bit scared of the medicin" she said.

Tharon had finally made it back to the Pack House, huffing and puffing as though she had just run a mile. And she did, as a matter of fact - twice. Working the training grounds was no walk in the park for someone who wanted to train their body. They showed no mercy, especially not to the Luna. She pushed her limits despite this, and while she still came out on top, she was terribly exhausted. She hadn’t even bothered to change out of her training gear - the only simplistic outfit she’d ever be caught dead in - but instead made a beeline straight for the series of voices coming from the kitchen. She needed water, a shot, a three-coursed meal, anything to relieve the burning ache in her muscles.

Rounding the corner, Tharon stepped through the archway and announced her arrival with a prolonged stretch. A weak nod towards the group, and she was on the move again, cutting through the middle to occupy an open barstool at the island, sitting opposite of Cain. She propped her arms up on the counter, the cool granite a welcome sensation against her bare skin. Observing the situation at hand, she quirked a brow at the little werewolf chattering away, and turned to Cain with a deadpan expression.

“You may want to give him one of those,” she told him, referring to the shot glass in his hand, following her joke with a small, tired smile.

Tharon then turned to the two ladies, and her lips twisted into a frown at the sight of Wilder’s open wounds. “Hurry up and patch those, Em, there’ll be blood all over the floor! I don’t want to have to clean that up again.”

Bug's sudden appearance was certainly a surprise to Cain, but not an unwelcome one. He offered the young boy a friendly smile. "Sounds like you had a big day, little man. I'd try to be a little more careful around bears, though - I can't have my best Delta out of commission."

Cain set his glass back on the counter. The burning sensation in the back of his throat was beginning to subside. He rested one side of his body against the granite top, so that he faced Bug head-on. "Tell you what, if you can whip up a drink better than this-" He held up the tequila bottle as a gesture, "-I won't touch this stuff for the rest of the night."

He was happy to see that others were slowly finding their way back to the Pack House, as he always had enjoyed these 'family gatherings,' as he liked to think of them. He greeted each newcomer with a friendly smile, a short wave, and motioned them closer into the open kitchen space. His smile would widen at the sight of fresh food for the pack, toted in by the smallest hunter they had. "That's a good find, Wilder," He said with praise, "Hang it over there. Someone will tend to it, eventually."

Cain had gestured towards the back end of the kitchen, in which stood a sturdy freezer that had been made to hold carcasses, as well as large masses of food. At the sight of blood, the frown he flashed was full of sadness and concern. "You have to be more careful, Wilder," He chided gently, "I can't send you out there anymore if I know you can't handle yourself. Maybe take a partner from now on."

He didn't particularly like to 'boss' people around, but one way or another, it came with the rank. It otherwise wasn't in his nature to give orders or lecture people - it wasn't the fun-loving goofball the pack knew best. That may be why he was particularly thankful that Tharon had sauntered through the door, as that meant that he was no longer in charge. She took to the job far better than he ever could.

He cracked a smile once more at Tharon's joke. "I don't think he'd enjoy it very much," He said with a chuckle. After a moment of thought, he brought out one more shot glass from beneath the counter, and slid it to her side of the island. "I think you might need it more than him." He took the bottle by its neck, poured it to the brim with a much more careful approach, and slunk back on his heels. He offered his shot glass, despite it being empty, to clink against hers.

Bug drew himself up proudly at being called the best Delta. It was an accurate description, in Bug's opinion, and he beamed brightly at Cain. He liked having his contributions recognised.

"Good evening, Tharon!" he greeted her as she entered. Seeing all of the wolves come together was one of Bug's favourite parts of the day - he loved running errands or just exploring by himself, but it was when everyone reconvened at the end of the day to discuss the things they'd done and share time together that Bug really felt like he was part of a family.

Lighting up as Cain set the challenge of making a drink between than his tequila, Bug leapt off the counter, far more dramatically than was really warranted, and scampered towards the fridge and freezer. Making a drink better than the foul-smelling tequila shouldn't be too hard, and Bug was going to rise to the challenge. In fact, he wasn't just going to rise to it - he was going to crush it. He was going to make the best drink Cain had ever tasted.

"Does anyone else want a milkshake too?" he offered, glancing back at the others as he pulled a tub of icecream out of the freezer. "They're going to be really good and healthy, 'cause they have all the important food groups - dairy and fruit and..." He hesitated, trying to figure out what other food groups were represented in milkshakes, before he concluded, "Those are the only two important food groups. They'll be like really good tasting medicine, except you don't have to be scared of them." That promise was directed to Wild, as he tried to reassure her. Medicine could be scary.

" okay fine but after can I have some v drink " she said in an exited tone. she ment vodka, she was the reason the drinks cabinet handle was two times taller than any other cabinet in the pack house. She guzzles that stuff like it's water, most likely because she doesn't understand the consent of drunkenness.

Tharon had caught the shot glass pushed her way in one fell swoop, and she couldn't help the satisfied smile on her face when she did so. Even after an exhaustive day, her reflexes were still razor sharp. When the glass was filled, she pulled it close to her face to give it a quick examination. Not that she would find anything out of the ordinary, she just wasn't the type to drink very often, much like she knew Cain to be. Even so, her day warranted some type of wind-down time. She knocked back the shot, and made a failed attempt at holding back her sour face. She wouldn't let the pack see her in any form of weakness, not even in the vulnerability of their slackened environment. She slammed the glass back down on the table, and set one hand on her hip while the bitter taste subsided.

"It's good," She said, her voice hoarse like she was holding back a cough.

She waved Bug along in the midst of her recovery. "I'll pass. I think this stuff'll tie me over for the night." Tharon pulled the bottle closer to her, though she examined it with an expression of distaste, as well. She was pretty confident that Bug's milkshake-making skills would come out on top anyway, so she didn't feel much remorse in hogging the bottle. She waited for the alcohol to settle in her stomach before she poured another one out for herself.

Larkin had decided that, despite her long day of cleaning up nasty cuts and wrapping sprained limbs, she would spend some of her evening in the Pack House and unwind for a spell. She made way for the kitchen, having heard the lapsing of voices just outside the doors. She appeared in the doorway, better late than never, with a soft smile. The gathering of a pack was never as harmonious as one might think, but it was a welcome sight nonetheless. Exchanging banter and coming down from the highs of their days was one thing they all had in common, despite their many differences. She had already picked up on some bits and pieces of conversation as she made her way indoors.
"Did I hear something about Bug's world-famous milkshakes? Count me in." Her tone was kind, despite the weariness lacing her muscles. Constantly on the move, she didn't get much time in the day to rest like she was able to now.

Larkin took a seat in the chair next to Tharon. She had her elbows on the tabletop, her hands folded beneath her chin. While she waited graciously, she turned with a small frown tugging at her lips. Seeing alcohol consumed at any volume was enough to fill her with unease.
"Maybe chase that with some water, Tharon," She urged with care. Right back to her feet, she rounded the island and brushed past Cain to reach the sink. She filled an empty glass, and passed it down to the other werewolf. "You'll be dehydrated, especially after how hard you worked yourself today."

As she did so, Larkin turned to the much smaller female in the room, and her frown had since deepened. "I think maybe you should pace yourself, Wild," she continued to mother-hen over the bunch. "You're bleeding, and adding vodka to your system would only make you bleed more."
She shot Emerald a prodding look, to hasten the process of wrapping her wounds. Even outside the infirmary, it seemed that she was never off-duty. Being so pensive and preoccupied, nothing ever seemed to slow her down. The only way one would ever see her sitting down for more than five minutes would be if she was bound by a leaden chain - and even then, that may not be enough to keep her down.

She huffed in anger, “ I’m 23 I can drink as much as I want!” She shouted with as much face as she could..... which wasn’t a lot. She was in fact 23, however she looked 5 maybe 6 so everyone usually thought she was that age.To make things worse she was raised by herself and wasn’t very knowledgeable in every day wolf things.

Bug really didn't understand Wild's obsession with vodka. It looked like water but looked and smelled like it tasted foul, and he really didn't get why she'd want to drink that instead of something nice. Each to their own, he figured, but he was going to stick with nice-tasting food and drinks.

He nodded to Wild, and then to Tharon, acknowledging the latter's polite refusal. He liked Tharon - he thought she was cool, and he looked up to her leadership skills, even if he didn't usually like following other people's orders. It would have been nice to have a chance to please her by making her a drink, but there'd be other opportunities for that - and he was quickly distracted, anyway, by the sight of Larkin entering.

"Larkin!" he trilled with a wave, delighted to see her. Once he'd received all of the requests, he set about making the milkshakes, dropping strawberries into the blender. Standing on tiptoes to reach up to its lip, he was humming cheerfully to himself as he created, focussed entirely on his own task with little regard for the rest of the conversation in the room, until Wild's shout made him jump.
Bug looked around at her with wide, wary eyes. His nerves were evident for a moment in his tense shoulders and frozen posture, as he processed who had shouted, and then his shoulders relaxed and his easy grin returned.

"You could drink lots of strawberry milkshakes," he reasoned. "As well as the vodka, because... strawberries are red and they'll replace your blood, and when you lose blood, you should have sugar, like orange juice, so ice-cream will help." He looked quite proud of his very scientific reasoning.

Emerald turned her gaze towards wild and she arched an eyebrow at the sudden outburst. She understood why however and compassion filled her gaze. She began to grind up a mixture of yarrow, comfrey, and chamomile leaves and flowers in her morter before she walked over to the sink and added a couple drops of water and mixed it into a paste. She collected some cloths, alcohol and bandages and brought them over to the table.

Emerald glanced over at Wild and motioned for her to take a seat at the table so she could take a look at her wounds. When she did so, Emerald began. She diligently cleaned the wounds with the alcohol, apologizing to the girl for the stinging it most likely caused. She then gently dried the wounds, before she applied the herb poultice and layered it evenly. She grabbed a cloth and carefully wiped her hands. “Let it sit and dry for a bit, then we will bandage you up.” Emerald instructed. “And Wild, try to take it easy please. We don't want to risk infection.” She informed gently and smiled at her.

Larkin had directed herself fully toward Wild, wearing the same worrisome expression despite the smaller werewolf's outburst. Anger wasn't a common look for her, if ever at all, so she did not regard the smaller female with so much as a hint of indignation. Perhaps she had grown used to the sound of wailing - though major injury wasn't a common occurrence among the Whitefang Pack, the occasional wound required some less-than-pleasant treatment. She had heard screaming as a result, and plenty of it. It was likely she was desensitized to the whole ordeal by this point. She fretted over her fellow packmates regardless of their feelings toward her, seeing that her main job was to ensure everyone was healthy and orderly.

"At least promise me you'll keep up on your fluids," Larkin returned Wild's shout with her own leveled tone of voice, "Or at least wait until your wounds stop bleeding."
She walked away from her position in front of the sink, and stood at the far end of the island in favor of the chair she once occupied. Along the short journey, she ruffled the mess of curls Bug adorned atop his head, offering him a sense of reassurance as she did so. She put her weight against the counter, crossing one foot over the heel of the other. She glanced between Tharon and Cain, both of whom seemed to have put on a weary expression.

"How was practice today?" She asked between the two, a hint of amusement in her dull blue eyes. She spoke of the training grounds like they were a high school football field. Not will ill-intention, of course, but Larkin wasn't very familiar with the process. The infirmary was all she knew, and the adjacent cabins surrounding it. She tended to the aftermath, not the activity that occurred beforehand.