The New Direction

The packs journey had thankfully been fairly uneventful. Having had a successful sweat, the Philodox found himself to have some semblance of peace and for the moment at least-it seemed the pack seemed to be responding well to the new agreed upon style of leadership.

As the day had worn on though, Zas B'ul found himself more than just occasionally watching the packs former Shadowlord Alpha. The Silent Strider patiently bid his time as the sun set, but as night quickly approached, he felt compelled to broach the thoughts he had in mind with his packmate.

"You had anything to drink today?" The apache inquired offering some water to the Ragabash.

He paused before continuing, "I've been going over everything, and It occurred to me that given how things have changed, our course may be running in a different direction."

The native garou gives a side long glance as he says, "I am a little interested to hear what you have to say about upcoming days-the ever changing future."

Mocks slowly removed his flask from his lips as the Philadox approached him and spoke. He quietly replaced it on his hip before turning around to face him.

"Generally one has a lot to drink during the day. As for our course... I am certain it will stay the same as it always has. Trouble will find us and we will react accordingly. Every plan and want we have had gets pushed to the side as new information and new situations emerge. We shall simply have to stay on or toes as we always have."

Zas scrunches his face in response but takes a moment before speaking again.

"And what of you? Do you feel that with the new pack leadership that you will also simply be pushed aside?"

Mocks gave a sad smile.

"In a manner of speaking yes. I'll be pushed aside back into the shadows where maybe I should have stayed. No used dwelling on that now, I shall simply start anew in them. Press forward with what I know now, not pick up from where I left off."

He gave Zas a hard look.

"I will still be heard and fight for action when and where I deem necessary. I intend to follow through with my plans for my tribe and The Necromantis."

He paused.

"You though. How do you think this changes anything? Does it change everything, nothing, both at the same, or does it favor one side?"

The philodox gives a brief smile, seemingly having heard what he had hoped to hear but said nothing.

At the latter question however, Zas squats down and runs his hands through some loose soil as he considers his answer.

He scoops a little dirt into his hand and forms a fist and then begins to let it slowly fall back to the ground, the wind catching some of the dirt and scattering it into the nearby area. The Silent Strider watches it silently vanish but still remains quiet.

There is a long moment of silence before he speaks. "Everything changes. This is what Gaia intended. The weaver is the one who longs for stasis. Change is good."

He looks up to Kefka, "We are coyote's children. We become what we must to do what needs to be done."

The Philodox turns back to look out to the horizon, "I feel that we are returning to our roots. A tree will grow if the roots are deep and strong and well watered. It will die and rot from within if its base and core is left un-nurtured. We as a pack are this tree. When we left Zavala, we felt that we needed to grow tall-so we followed Rends. When we were in Galveston, we felt that we had over reached our height and could not support our weight. You took on the responsibility of pruning us and trimming us down to find new growth. Now, in San Marcos we learned that after your pruning, light was able to shine on our roots. We all saw that in order to grow, these roots needed to deepen and grow stronger. Once this happens, our tree can reach new heights."

He looks back to Mocks, "It is my hope that by seeing and doing things the way of the Dine that our pack can be brought to balance."