Rites of Passage: Iron Riders

Zoe was confused by the spider's words. What had they done to to upset the so-called Gauntlet? All she had done since she got here was help the spiders and get rid if some banes. Neither of which seemed to bother them before.

The cowboy's words shed just the light she needed to understand their message. She needed to go and go quickly.

She raced to the coach, kicking at spiders as she went. Some stray webbing caught her feet, causing her to stumble slightly, but she quickly regained her footing and leaped inside the coach, slamming the door behind her, as some webbing splatted against it. Looking out the window she called for the cowboy to come back, but he was absorbed in his task and either did not hear her or chose to ignore her.

"What about him?" Zoe yelled to the driver. "Shouldn't we do something?"

The driver didn't seem to hear her as he urged his horses on, bawling "Ándele!" at the top of his lungs as the stagecoach lurched away from the encroaching Weaver spirits.

"Oh, that's sweet, but you don't need to worry about little old me, Kostas." Zoe whirled to see the cowboy sitting on the bench opposite her, twirling the last gaffling feather distractedly. He glanced at her, a smile playing in the laugh-lines around his golden eyes.

"All things considered, I think that went pretty darn well." He withdrew the torn playing card out from underneath where he was sitting and put it in his breast pocket.

Zoe's eyes grew wide as she looked back and forth between the cowboy and the window, unable to form a full sentence.

"How did you--? But you were--? Or were you?"

She relaxed back into the bench with a huff. Shaking her head she snorted out a laugh.

"Darn it, No-Name. I can't be around you for five minutes without finding myself with a hundred questions, most of which you probably won't even answer, so just forget it. I won't even ask."

She felt around on her person for her belongings. The watch and the rifle were in place, but the last gaffling feather was gone. Looking up at the cowboy, she saw it in his hand.

"Could I please have that back? It's the only shred of proof I have of ever catching that darn bird. And I did! But I set it free when the banes came around because I didn't want it to get hurt."

The cowboy pulled off his boots, oblivious to the rollicking motion of carriage. "What can I say? Any magician worth his salt never reveals his tricks to the public."

When Zoe asked for the feather, the stranger gave her a mock-reproving look. "Oh, this feather? I figured this'd make us even. In case you didn't notice, I did help rescue your hide back there." He leaned back in his seat and pulled he hat down over his eyes as he continued speaking. "In any case, that soot dove shed twice already. Waving this around," he shook the feather in her direction, "won't prove much to your little Garou friends."

He pushed the brim of his hat up just enough to wink at her with one half-closed eye as they finally rumbled out of Nacogdoches.

Zoe crossed her arms and huffed, looking out the window.

"Fine, keep the feather. But for the record, those spiders didn't have any problem with me before you showed up. They were helping me deal with the banes and even gave me the ability to speak to spirits in exchange for waking up the big guy."

She sighed as she morphed back into her homid form.

"I guess I'll just go back and hope they believe me because it's just too dangerous now to go looking for a stupid bird when the banes, the spiders, and whatever else comes out during the day are on the prowl."

"If they don't believe me, I guess I'll just come back and try again tonight. I can't not join this pack. I can't disgrace my father's memory with my failure, especially when I didn't fail!"

"Those spiderlings were getting ready to 'clarify' you, and that didn't have anything to do with me and Papi showing up."

The stranger let his hat brim settle back down over his eyes as he jammed the last feather in place in his hatband. Then he patted her knee, his half grin just visible under the edge of his askew hat.

"Don't feel bad about those Weaver-spirits getting all out of sorts. They are odd at the best of times, and in daylight they get really tetchy. Those bugs are slaves to order and rules, and it seems like half the time those rules don't to make any sense; but they still mindlessly follow their laws and protocols, and God in Heaven help you if they think you went and violated any of them."

The stagecoach shuddered to a hard stop, and Zoe could hear the breaks squeal in protest.

"I don't know if I'd believe you if you told me your little story, but that's neither here nor there. Good luck, kid." The cowboy said without looking up as the carriage door fell open, revealing the forest path leading to the sept grounds. As Zoe clambered out, the driver looked down at her with a gap-toothed grin, one lazy eye askew.

"Haharhahahar! We lost 'em, alright! No one beats me in a race on my road, no one!!!" He leaned over and thrust a callused hand down for her to shake. Like most spirits, he seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she was naked. "Pleased to make your formal acquaintance, missy. I'm Pappa Stagecoach, the big bad hombre of the Camino Real. Glad to see ol' Tycheros had such a scrappy little chica for a pup!"

Before Zoe could speak, he waved her off. "Ah, you should go get yourself back to the sept proper, though- I am sure the others want to hear your story! Go on, I'll be there in a moment; after all, I wanna hear the tale too!" With a final throaty Arriba! to the horses, ol Stagecoach charged away down the dusty road.

Zoe half-heartedly smiled and waved as the stagecoach disappeared into the morning haze. She glanced back town, considering one last time whether to continue the hunt. The faint strains of the Onesong echoed from the edge of town. The melodies no longer brought her the joy of discovery but the fear of being 'clarified' whatever that meant.  She pulled out her pocket watch and cursed the lack of sunlight in the spirit world. There was no way out if she could not see her reflection.

All of a sudden Zoe recalled the day she and O'Toole had assembled her rifle. He had equipped it with a sun scope, which stored sunlight during the day to be released when needed.  Zoe held the rifle in one hand and the pocket watch in the other. She depressed the button on the back of the scope and the immediate area was flooded with sunlight. Staring up at her from the pocket watch was a perfect reflection of her tired face. She stared through her eyes and willed herself to pass through.

After a moment she noticed the area grow brighter than her scope was able to illuminate. Looking up through the trees she saw the sun pouring through the early morning fog. Zoe leapt for joy at the sight of the natural forest. She dashed back down the trail, almost tripping over her clothes which lay folded in the center of the path. She hurriedly dressed herself and then practically sprinted to the clearing where she had met the other pack mates, hoping all the while that they would believe her tale.

Compared to the supernatural gloom of the penumbra, the bright red morning of dawn was a most welcome sight. She burst onto the grounds of the sept to see the gathered werewolves standing in a semicircle, with Red-Oath and Lune-Stalker in the center. Behind them the old stagecoach in the center of the track had seemingly come to life, for now there were six spirit horses hitched to it and a beaming Pappa Stagecoach standing atop the carriage, whistling and cheering.

There was a high piercing cry and the avian gaffling that Zoe had tracked through Nacogdoches swooped low, landing behind Zoe and the gathered Garou. Red-Oath stepped forward, holding a small stained leather-bound book that might have been a schedule or a ledger. She looked Zoe in the eye for a moment, and then half turned, addressing the assembled Garou with a raised voice:

"Gaia in her wisdom has deemed Zoe Kostas worthy of bearing the blood of the Garou, and Zoe has not shirked from her duty. She has shown to be capable of slaughtering Wyrm-things, trafficking with the slaves of the Weaver when necessary, and protecting Wyld-spirits against all who would threaten them. All these things have been witnessed by the humble servant of Father Cockroach, Grey Dove, and Father Stagecoach, lord of the Camino Real. By the will of Gaia and Luna, those of the Garou Nation welcome Zoe Kostas, into the tribe of the Iron Riders as a Cliath."

The only sound was the quiet, sleepy trill of the woodland birds and the constant happy yelling coming from the sept's spirit totem. The Garou themselves were silent, but all of them looked at Zoe with pride, especially Slick-Blood and All-Friend. Red-Oath tossed back her head and yelled across the clearing, beckoning for the young werewolf to come closer.  

"Step forward, Iron Rider, and claim your deed name."

Zoe humbly stepped into the clearing. She released a sigh of relief when she saw Feathers present among the Garou. Papa Stagecoach's presence also comforted her as she awaited the ruling of the pack.

As Red-Oath outlined Zoe's time in the penumbra, the wolfling glanced at the bird and the sept totem and smiled at them both, grateful that her time on the other side was not wasted. The stagecoach driver's pride brought satisfaction to Zoe's heart. She imagined if her father were here he may respond similarly to her time in the penumbra.

Red's beckoning brought Zoe out of her thoughts and back to the present. The request for a deed name took her by surprise. As she pondered her rite and the various tasks completed therein, she could not stop thinking about the beauty of the Onesong. Even though the spiders turned against her in the end, she empathized with their desire to bring order and purpose to the world around them.

She stepped forward into the semicircle and lifted her chin in confidence as she spoke with a strong voice.

"I am Iron Rider. I am Cliath. I am Theurge. I am Hears-the-Song!"

Red-Oath made a note in her book and the Camino Real sept roared their approval in the red light of dawn. The Spinning Wheels ran forward and embraced her in a large, rough hug. "I don't care what time of day it is," Poet-Slayer hollered. "I think our new theurge deserves a drink! To the saloon!"

Slick-Blood squeezed her shoulder and nodded. "I'm sure her daddy'd agree. You did good, kid- I know he'd be proud of you."

Ramirez wore a huge smile as he gingerly patted the top of her head. The hulking Crinos seemed to have lost none of his earlier timidity.

Red-Oath laughed and gave a tired smile. "I suppose one good drink won't do any harm. It isn't every day we get a new recruit, after all. Just show restraint; we still have a mockery to catch and kill."


Hidden among the penumbral trees, the Laughing Stranger scratched his cheek idly as he watched the Iron Riders leave the caern and head back toward town. "Well, one down," he sighed, and ground out his coffin-nail. "So much for the easy part."

Over the next few weeks, Zoe spent every waking moment with different members of the Camino Real sept, absorbing everything she could about being Garou. Her hunger for answers never seemed to be satisfied. The more she learned the more questions she had.

Zoe spent much time with Lune-Stalker, learning the ways of the sliver moon.  The first thing she requested to learn was how to wear clothes in the spirit world and how not to lose them when she transformed.  Lune-Stalker slapped her leg as a raucous laugh burst from insider of her and she agreed to teach the young cliath that and more.  

Ramirez, though timid, gladly helped Zoe learn how best to utilize her claws and teeth. He taught her how to hunt in the area without being seen by the humans.  She also learned how to effectively communicate in crinos and lupus forms.

Poet-Slayer worked to help find the last remaining Wyrm-creature, but his efforts were largely unsuccessful. When he was around the pack's newest Cliath was all business, and Zoe often thought he seemed preoccupied with his hunt to the point of paranoia.

Red-Oath as the group's philodox taught Zoe the Litany, stressing the disciplinary measures that came to those who violated the law of the Garou. Zoe found a few of the laws peculiar, but trusted that they were all there for a reason.

Zoe's favorite times were spent with Slick-Blood and All-Friend. She loved basking in the stories of the Garou who had gone before.  Occasionally, Slick-Blood would surprise her with a story about her father's acts of honor and bravery, though he never suggested why Tycheros was separated from his daughter or how he passed from this life to the next.  All-Friend also taught her the basics of communicating via howls.

As much as Zoe had loved O'Toole as her adopted family, in a matter of days the Camino Real sept felt more like family to her than anything she had known before.  They knew and accepted her for who she truly was - Zoe Hears-the-Song Kostas, daughter of Tycheros, Theurge, Iron Rider...

Garou.