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Cubhood * * * I suppose...some of you are wondering, with me being ex-denfather and all, what is was like when I was a cub. Kind of an odd tale in and of itself really. I firsted back in '90-another story in and of itself-my sophomore year of high school. After I did, I really...kinda hid. I mean, my parents were kin, but they never knew the whole story. My dad...taught me control, so I could keep the Fire in check for the most part. Besides, in high school I was pretty much a nerd anyway, so the weird looks and walking away was pretty much par for the course. I was lucky as all hell too, we lived in rural Wisconsin. Apparently I managed to duck the radar through my senior year and my abject failure at college, which takes us up to 1993.. This is where the fun starts. Apparently, someone with a little naughtynaughty in his heart thought it'd be a good idea for me to go dance a curved path. So they figured they could waltz in and snag me on one of our little field exercises. Bad planning or arrogance on their part, but the day they picked was the day we qualified on rifle. Looking back, I think they figured to cause enough Delirium that they could just grab and go. So I'm poppin' targets and feeling damn good about myself, gets down to the last little bit and what I see is something not unlike 7 or 8 bats boiling out of hell. Rank fuckers too. It was over in about 45 seconds all told. But after it was done, I basically...well, hauled ass. I hid for a couple days, before my DI-who, praise Gaia, was Kinfolk-found my gimp ass. I was good at hiding and sneaking and shit, but guts' n' being determined only gets a guy so far, y'know? Not to mention I'd taken a couple hits during the fight. One of them spirals had a dedicated shotgun and put some kinda silver-powder round in my right asscheek. So he found me, and called me to attention and reamed me a bright shiny new asshole once he'd made sure I wasn't gonna die. It took him some time to figure out, but I honest-to-gaia didn't know what was going on-I just thought I had a seizure or some shit.. So he looked at my intelligence tests, and finagled a transfer for me into ROTC, going to college at Columbia in New York. Don't ask me how, but I have a feeling he took a shit assignment for that. My platoon pretty much slogged it out through the rest of basic, but most of 'em left the Army on psych discharges or unable to adhere to standards...some friends of mine look in ! on 'em now and again. But I digress. After basic and my assignment, I essentially had 5 months of temporary duty. Technically I was assigned to Fitzsimmons Army Hospital in Denver. In reality, I was a ways away from there, at the High Trees sept having gone through Basic, I figured I could handle whatever physical goodies this buncha old farts wanted to throw at me, plus whatever other funky shit that came along with this "garou" thing my DI had told me about. I have been more wrong, once or twice. Lemme take a minute and describe the High Trees sept. It's about 14,000 feet in elevation. For those of you who aren't too quick with numbers, that's roughly 2 and a half miles, or 4 kilometers. Breathing is...well, you're okay until you exert yourself. Then you start having fun. It's a minor sept, mainly used to train cubs, and provide...spiritual healing. Running water was a stream, electricity was what the clouds threw down during a storm. It was explained to me that the Children of Gaia had accepted me for training, mainly due to the fact that my first battle scar had healed into something that loosely resembled the tribal glyph. It was then explained to me that everything and anything was a Privilege, and that screwing up was how to lose said privileges. First privilege I lost was the privilege of walking. I had to move at a double-time, everywhere, any form. It's not too bad, until you realize that I was running about a marathon every day, and for the first week I was pa! Assing out pretty regular. For 5 months. Second privilege I lost was my name. For four months, I got called Cub. For 2 months I couldn't smoke. Now this may not seem bad to you, but at the High Trees sept, one of the traditions is that at any kind of council or moot, they light a peace pipe, to honor those who cared for the sacred land before us. The pipe is also a talking stick, whoever holds the pipe is the only one who speaks. No smoking, no pipe. No pipe, no talking. It was their way of saying I was a complete idiot. Took some time, but the methods worked. About 2 weeks before I was due to start classes, Sarah Morningdew blindfolded me, took me by Moon Bridge to Montana, told me I had a week to present myself before the sept. Not too bad, except that when she left, she neglected to tell me where I was. I hitched a couple rides, kept a marriage together, and ran like a wolf for 6 days. And on the proverbial 7th day, I rested at my sept. The next week was, interesting. Lost Cubs like I was usually don't make it, so when they do, the celebration is exceptional. I owe the sept members there a great deal. Gaia kick my ass if I ever speak ill of them. * * * Told by Jason 'Twomoons' Maier, Adren, Philodox, Children of Gaia Back | List of Tales | Next
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