what was necessary, what was right, not what was fair.

silhouette.

It's a long drive out to Forgotten Questions. The Outback heats up nicely, and after a while, it's not Erich but Sil who reaches over and changes the radio to CD. They end up listening to Pure Heroine, driving south in the dark until the suburbs drop away and they are driving off the highway and onto roads surrounded by gently rolling terrain that is half-covered by snow. They turn past the little fire department after about half an hour or more on the road, the ground sloping away on their left toward a reservoir as they approach the gate.

When it's this late after dark, this deep in winter, no one comes out here. No one is sitting in the station out front. Already both of them can feel their minds forgetting the last time they were here, what it was like, when it was, where exactly they went. Because they are garou they can shake it off with relative ease, but the sensation is there: memory slipping out of their grasp like water through their fingers.

Sil pauses at the gate, steps out, and waits, breath steaming in the dark. After a while, a shape appears from the darkness, seeming to slip from the shadows itself. The guardian sniffs the air, then rises into glabro, walking to the gate. With the turn of a large key hanging from the guardian's neck into the padlock on the gate's chain, it opens for Erich and Silhouette. The gate is re-locked behind them after she drives through; the guardian vanishes into the penumbra once more. They park, and there are actually a couple of other cars there, but no one in sight. No lights but the moon and stars and dim glow of light pollution from the suburbs and city.

"Let's go inside," Sil says as she gets out of the car, nodding at the visitor's center, which is not very large at all but is at least going to be warmer than out here.

So they go inside.

--

There are walking sticks and maps and books available: this is an educational place. It's not a tourist attraction. There are no shot glasses or cheap trinkets. There are boxes near the walls where the park's keepers rotate items: a pelt, some bones, types of foliage. You can stick your hands into a hole, blind, and let your sense of touch guide you before you ever open the top of the box and see what you examined. There are tiny bathrooms. There is a soda vending machine.

Silhouette goes to sit on a bench beneath a large map of the park and surrounding area. Across the way is a photograph, sepia-toned, of Persse Place blown up to mural size. It is a bit blurry, and has a plaque about the history of the park. She leans back, slouching a little, arms crossed, and waits for Erich to join her.

"You might want to think about being more careful," she tells him, point-blank, though she's not looking at him. She's staring at the photo. "Fighting is what all Garou do, but I think it's easiest for Ahrouns. But not everyone would think you did a good job back there. I helped and healed you. You didn't do any recon. You took what I told you at face value; did you notice that I even got the number of bad guys wrong? You made a lot of noise, you fought out in the middle of the street. You chucked a cinderblock through a window without knowing, for damn sure, what you were throwing a cinderblock into. If there had been eight, or ten, or if they'd been having a family reunion, if there was any information beyond the obvious, we could have both gotten killed."

Her eyes skim sideways to him. "So you might want to think about being more careful," she repeats. "Not because we're Shadow Lords and we're supposed to be sneaky and calculating, but because we're Ahrouns, and as we go up in rank, more of our people and our kin are our responsibility. If we come back from a fight and others don't, it means we fucked up somehow. But if we act like we're nothing but cannon fodder, it means we aren't there next time when we're needed. You can't lead a battle and be cannon fodder in that battle at the same time, is what I'm saying."

Silhouette rolls her shoulders back, turning away again. "You're tough. Out of the seven back there, you took out four in one hit. I think you managed a chaotic situation pretty well. But you could have done better, because I don't think you're dumb. You could have been more careful with both our lives."

She sniffs, clears her throat. "So anyway, that's just some feedback on part one. Part two is gonna be weird because... I wanna know if you know anything about our people." Silhouette turns to look at him, fully. "The Shadow Lords. Our stories. Our history. Our culture. Who we are."

silhouette.

[NOTE TO SELF: fix that "suppos. ed" in there. WTF.]

Storm's Teeth

Here's a secret.

Erich is actually not very good at taking criticism. Not because he's overproud or because he thinks he can do no wrong, but because sometimes he doesn't really understand the concept of constructive criticism. Silhouette has already as good as said he's at least still in the running. She's as good as shown him as much by allowing him to move on to part two. But when she starts to comb over his performance in part one, Erich can't help but hear

that he got it wrong

that he might've gotten them killed

that he was reckless, and dumb, and did he even know how many enemies there were>

His hands are pushed deep into his pockets; shoulders hunched up. She tells him -- a few times, actually -- to be more careful. And then she asks him what he knows about the Shadow Lords.

"Look," and this is sort of an interruption, really, "you don't have to go through the rest of this. I mean... if I've already fucked up badly enough that you don't think I'm ready, I can take that. You don't have to, I dunno. Cushion the blow or get more evidence or whatever. You don't have to waste your time for my sake, y'know?

"If I flunked I flunked. It's all right, you can tell me. I'll get better and try again."

silhouette.

They are in part two. The history of the Shadow Lords. Remembering the stories of their people. Because if they're going to be lauded as the icons, paragons of the Garou by virtue of their birth-moon, then they should actually have an idea what the other auspices do and why they matter, or something.

And Erich gets stuck.

And Erich tells her that she doesn't have to go through the rest of this and she doesn't have to cushion the blow or waste her time and he can take it if he flunked! He can!

Silhouette is actually not an asshole, so she lets him finish, then uncrosses her arms. One hand points at the seat beside her. "Sit." It's flat. It's an order.

Storm's Teeth

Erich shuts up. He sits!

silhouette.

Silhouette retracts the pointing finger and then holds up her pinky. "I know I don't have to go through the rest of this," she tells him, not bothering to conceal her irritation. She puts up her ring finger. "I'm not cushioning a blow for you." Middle finger, scowling briefly. "Kind of insulted you even went there." Index. "What the fuck is your deal?"

She puts out her thumb. "I get that your whole family kicked you out and that was this totally traumatic formative experience or whatever but dude. You're acting like a kicked puppy. And if you want me to start kicking you, let me know and I'll teach you the difference between constructive criticism and abject failure."

Her hand lowers, and she looks away, giving a slight rattle of disgust in her throat that she's shaking off with a waggle of her head. "Jesus." One last vehement expression, that. She waits a few seconds for her temper to go down, then looks at him, like she just gave him a 5-second time out.

"You ready to move on now?"

Storm's Teeth

There's a flash of wounded pride, manifesting as a flare of anger rising to match Silhouette's: like steel on steel, striking sparks. "I'm not a puppy," Erich snaps, as though that's even the point here.

A beat later, he leans elbows on knees. Sort of grudgingly: "And I know I'm acting like one." Deep breath. "I'm sorry."

He lifts his head again. Gives a nod, quick and firm. "Yeah, I'm ready." He thinks for a second. "I don't know that much about our tribe but I do know a couple stories. I know one that kinda... I guess it resonates a lot with me. I don't remember all the details but I can try to tell you."

silhouette.

"YEAH," Silhouette snaps back, when he says he's not a puppy, an echo of -- perhaps -- his own brain telling him that exactly: that's the point. He leans over. She has her mouth in a flat line as she watches him. He apologizes, and she gives a little nod, and... well. They move on.

Silhouette cocks her head. "Tell it to me."

Storm's Teeth

And now Silhouette gets to see Erich really struggle. He's obviously wracking his brains, his brow furrowing, his fore and middle fingers pressing against his temples like he's channeling some distant memory. Which... he is.

"Well. Okay. So this is a story about Last Flame-rhya, who was an Adren Shadow Lord who lived in ... I think it was Eastern Europe?"

(He's wrong. It was the Iberian peninsula.)

"And this happened a really long time ago, back when most of our Tribe and most of the Garou world still swore allegiance to the Silver Fangs. Anyway, Last Flame was one of the warriors in the court of a great Silver Fang prince. And she wasn't the strongest warrior or the wisest or even the most honorable. She wasn't the eldest, she didn't hold the highest rank, she wasn't really Alpha of anything or Master of anything.

"She was just, y'know. Good enough that most people respected her, but not so good that anyone thought of her as a hero.

"So anyway, she lives her life there and she kills Wyrm and guards the land and the Caern and serves her prince and Sept-Alpha well. And every so often there'd be news of something that had to be taken care of, and the Silver Fang prince would call a moot and everyone would argue about who gets the honor of going to take care of whatever had to be taken care of.

"Like once, it was some great big dragon-thing up in the mountains. And Last Flame steps up along with a bunch of other big strapping heroes, and in the end the Silver Fang prince picked a Fenrir Modi because he was famous for being a mighty warrior and he had more glory than god.

"And another time, it was some huge misunderstanding with the neighboring Sept and war was about to break out and everyone was pissed off and they really needed someone to go negotiate. And Last Flame steps up along with a bunch of other really silver-tongued diplomats, and in the end the Silver Fang prince picked a Fianna Galliard because she was famous for being able to make friends with anyone.

"And then there was time when there was some very delicate judgment that had to be made because both sides of the dispute were important and influential and they couldn't afford to piss anyone off. They had to have a judgment that was fair, and that anyone could see was fair, so that peace could be preserved. And Last Flame stepped up again, along with a bunch of very noble judges who knew what they were about, so of course the Silver Fang prince picked a Silver Fang Philodox, because he was basically acknowledged by all to be the fairest, noblest, most honorable dude ever.

"Then there's the time that some great spirit of the Wyld had to be guided safely away from the Sept, because it was very important and powerful, but it was like... rampaging and causing havoc. And yet again Last Flame stepped up, and yet again she got passed over because there was a Shadow Lord Theurge who was famous for being able to broker deals with even the most bizarre, incomprehensible spirits.

"Annnnd there was the time when the Silver Fang prince's own son got kidnapped by a rival, and they needed someone to sneak into the rival's ... castle ... or something, and break him out. And of course, Last Flame stepped up. And of course, she got passed over, because there was some ultra-sneaky Bone Gnawer Ragabash who could pretty much sneak in and out of anything.

"So yeah. All these other heroes went and did all these other things and they came back and got all sorts of glory and awards and accolades and praise and stuff. And by the time all that had happened, Last Flame was kinda getting old, and she was still an Adren, and she just... I mean, she was good? But not great. You know?

"But then: then, one day, this huge disaster strikes. I wish I could remember the details but I don't. I think it was something like... a Wyrmhole opened, or something like that? And they needed someone to go close it.

"And of course all the other heroes stood up and started clamoring for the honor. But then the Silver Fang prince says: oh yeah, by the way. This is a suicide mission, and not even like a glorious die in battle sort of suicide mission. It was just a sad, pathetic sort of suicide mission, but someone had to do it or else everyone would die and the Caern would fall.

"And all the other heroes kinda ... just looked at each other. And then they started finding excuses not to go. This one had made a promise to die gloriously in battle. That one had to deliver an ultra-important message and wouldn't be back in time. Y'know, just total copouts. And one by one they all kinda slink off and finally the court was quiet and everyone figured maybe it was time for like -- doomsday contingency plans, right?

"But then: they see that there's still one warrior left. And it's Last Flame. And she's kinda old and grey and not that impressive-looking, and her clothes aren't all fancy and there isn't like a big flock of screaming fans around her or anything. It's just her, and she says: I'll go.

"And the Silver Fang prince is kinda surprised. And he kinda feels bad, because he remembers all the other times she's stood up and been passed over. And he's like, you know, you've kinda had a pretty tough break. I know you've always had our backs, and I know you never really got much recognition. I know you probably wanna make your name somehow, but -- y'know, this is really a shitty way to do it. Let someone else go. I promise, the next time some big glorious mission comes up, I'll give the honor to you.

"But Last Flame just looks at him and says: I'll go. It's not about glory, and it's not about honor. It's about doing what needs to be done, and this needs to be done. So I'll go."

Erich pauses a little there. It's perhaps one of the worst retelling of the tale like in the history of ever, but he's visibly moved all the same. Not by his own crapping retelling -- but by the story itself.

"Anyway," he says, drawing a long and unsteady breath, "the rest of the story is pretty grim. It's basically like... about how awful her journey is, and all the pain and suffering and humiliation she goes through, and then in the end all that awaits her is death. But the point is: because she went and did what no one else wanted to, and because she went and did what someone had to, the whole Caern was saved. And in the end she was never as big a hero as some of the others -- I mean, you can find like, books and books of stories about the other five -- but she was remembered for always, always being willing to do what was necessary, and what was right.

"And that just always hit a nerve for me. I mean, I think that's what it should be about. Always doing what's right and what's necessary, even if it sucks."

silhouette.

Silhouette has heard this story before. And it's true: this is one of the worst retellings of it she's ever heard. She's heard it sung, some silvery voice caressing the name of the warrior through every chorus with respect and loss and gratitude so thick in the air that it helps Garou remember what they are, and what they're made for. That was at a Gathering, actually. She's seen it done as sort of a skit, almost, retold while various Galliards and their packmates stood up in front of the fire, making a shadow play of the tale. Once, a Galliard entered her dreams and the dreams of several others as they slept, letting them re-live the story before they, too, went into a seemingly unwinnable battle.

He does get that line right, though.

I'll go. It's not about glory, and it's not about honor. It's about doing what needs to be done, and this needs to be done. So I'll go.

Those lines are almost poetry. Those lines make their way into every retelling of Last Flame's story that Sil has ever heard. She's sort of glad he knows that one, because it means a lot to her, too. It means a lot to the sort of Shadow Lords who aren't hung up on being Too Cool For School or sneaky or calculating or whatever. The ones who will go down with the ship, so to speak, not because they're saluting the horizon as it sinks but because they're in the ship's bowels, trying to get the engines restarted while water pours in around their legs. Doing what needs to be done, as inglorious and dangerous and sometimes even dishonorable as it may be sometimes.

Silhouette just gives Erich a slow nod when he's done. "All right," she says, just as she did before they left the house they were going to set fire to.

--

After the telling of the tale, however badly done it was, she just sits in silence with Erich for a while. And then she breathes in deep:

"What do you think matters more? What's fair, or what's right? Or does being fair automatically make something right?"

Storm's Teeth

Erich is glad for that silence. It gives him a moment to let the tale move through him and let go. It gives him a moment to stop being so choked up. Sometimes Erich thinks he's probably too emotional for his own good. Otherwise why would he get all kicked-puppy all the time? Silhouette doesn't point it out, though, and for that at least he's thankful.

After a while she moves on. And he can tell she's moving on, because now she's asking him about what's fair and right, which is a Philodox thing, which means

they're on to part three.

--

"What's right," Erich answers. It is immediate; he doesn't even pause. "And fair isn't the same as right, at all. I mean, just in that story we just talked about? What was fair probably was for Last Flame to stay home. I mean why the hell should she have to go on the crappy mission when all the good missions were given to other people? Why the hell should all those other people get all the good missions and then turn up their noses at the one that was crappy?

"But it was right for her to go. It was probably even more right for one of those big heroes to go, to balance out all the glory he'd gotten all his life with one last act of noble sacrifice. Of course none of them did the right thing -- or even the fair thing, if you ask me. The right thing was to go, and of all of them Last Flame was the only one that did the right thing. Even though it was totally unfair. And...

"Yeah. I think I'm going in circles now so I'm gonna stop. You know what I mean though, right?"

silhouette.

"Sorta," Silhouette says. She tips her head. "Give me another example."

Storm's Teeth

Erich thinks for a moment, all brow-lined. He's still sitting in that chair Silhouette ordered him into, elbows on knees, hands laced loosely together.

"Well, okay. Say ... it's a hard winter and everyone is starving. And you get lucky and you take down, like, an elk all by yourself. What's fair would be for you to eat that elk all by yourself. Because you were the only one that took the risk and you were the only one that put in the work. Right?

"But what's right is for you to share the kill. What's right is for you to give extra food to the ones that are starving the worst, because they need it most.

"I can't really tell you why something's right vs. fair. I mean, I don't have a single rule that just lays it all out. Fair is a bit easier, fair is just about no one getting anything more or less than what they deserve. Or maybe anything more or less than what anyone else gets. Fair is about balance. Right is about ... well, it's about what's right. It's not about staying in balance, I think. It's more about moving toward what's good and pure and ... better than what we have right now. And I think that's more important."

silhouette.

Silhouette is obviously not a Philodox herself, who would have come up with a much better way to ask the question. Just by asking him if Fair or Right is more important tells him pretty clearly what she thinks: fairness is overrated. Fairness is that everyone, pregnant mate to mewling cub to wounded ahroun, get the same amount of elk-meat, even though the mate and ahroun need more to eat and even though the ahroun can survive the longest without it and even though the infant cub has no real use yet. Right is different.

And harder.

"All right," Silhouette says, because it's that simple for her. She breathes in, asks: "What rites do you know?"