Jack had finally stopped wandering the country. He’d left his last pack and cairn behind in Scotland, coming to Canada to pursue something new, something other than what he’d been used to. Besides, his pack disliked him, and the Sept Elder had contacted a sept in Canada, and they were expecting him – eventually. He revved his motorcycle as he crossed the border from Manitoba into Saskatchewan, pointing his bike in the direction his GPS told him to go.
He stopped for a bite to eat about halfway there, driving the rest of the night to make it there by dawn. He was hoping they’d have a place for him to sleep, or, barring that, an inexpensive motel. He was about to call it a wash for the night and camp in the woods off to the side of the road when he saw the ‘Welcome to Maple Creek’ sign. I can push a little while longer. he thought to himself. He took a moment to remember the directions he’d been given on how to find the sept – it was an old campground, turned community, specifically for the garou and their kin, he’d been told.
He parked near the road, where he saw other vehicles, and trudged through the woods until he felt eyes watching to him. He stopped, looking over, and spotted a reddish wolf. Red Talon he thought, then crouched down to its level, bared his teeth and managed to speak a little garou in his human form – that was always difficult. With a look of surprise, the wolf did a double take, but gestured for Jack to follow him. It was a little used path they followed, and soon enough it opened into a clearing, dotted with several cabins updated with modern amenities. Curious faces looked at him, but he paid them no mind – he needed to find the Sept Elder.
“Just who might you be?” growled a voice to his left. Jack turned to face the burly, nordic looking man and sighed inwardly.
“Jack MacKinnon. I’m expected by your elder.” he spoke, his voice thick with his accent. He never liked the Get – always too willing to get into a fight, it seemed – no matter the auspice.
“Zuberi!” the other man yelled. Odd name, Jack thought. A few minutes later, a middle eastern man appeared, making his way to Jack.
“You’re the wolf that the Sept of the Tuath Dé told me of?”
Jack nodded. “Jack MacKinnon, Galliard of Fianna.” he said, his accent less thick then it had been previously.
“Welcome to Sept of the Sylvan Glade, Jack.” Zuberi said, with a genuine smile. “There aren’t many of us here, so new blood is always welcome.”
“Glad to be of help, sir.”
“Zuberi is fine. The rules here are much the same as anywhere else, with one major exception. Our sister city to the south, Willow Creek, is not a battleground, despite all the leeches there. We have a truce with them – they leave us alone, and we leave them alone. There just aren’t that many of us to go against them all, and it’s more important to protect the cairn.”
Jack blinked. An alliance with vampires? This was unusual.
“Additioanlly, because there are so few of us, we don’t have traditional packs – we set up in pairs, and work together with the others when possible. The other half of your pack should be here soon. He’s a Bone Gnawer that goes by the name Roger – lupus born. I hope that isn’t a problem.”
“No, not at all.”
“Good. I’ll let you know when he’s arrived, in the meantime, get some rest.”
Jack thanked Zuberi, and as he did so an older woman, grandmotherly, led him to one of the empty cabins, and informed him that he could rest there. It was warm, at least, and Jack dropped his stuff off and lay on the bed, soon falling asleep.
It was early afternoon when he woke. He grabbed his bag and headed outside, just as Zuberi was about to knock.
“Ah, you’re awake. Roger’s just arrived.” he led Jack over to Roger, a humble looking man in warm but tattered clothes.
“Roger, this is Jack, your new packmate.” Zuberi said, watching the two shake hands before walking off.
“Nice to finally meet you, Jack.”
“You too, man. So let me ask up front – any hotels around here? or job prospects?”
“Not so much up here. I can take you down south though – there’s opportunities there.”
“Isn’t that the leech city?”
“Technically. But they ain’t so bad. We’ve even worked with them to help them out. They don’t venture across the border, save for the leader once in a while. He’s a special case though – goes a long way back with the Shadow Lords and they trust him, so why not the rest of us too?”
Jack frowned. He wasn’t too sure about the idea. “Look, ” Roger said “Shelter and sustenance should take precedence. They can’t keep you here – they’re strained as it is with the people that live here as is. I sleep in back of the leech leader’s house. He even throws me scraps, it’s great. Truth be told, I haven’t heard Gaia complaining – so we must be doing something right.”
“Well, I suppose.”
“You got a car?”
“I got a bike.”
“Good enough. Phone?”
Jack handed it over to Roger, and watched as he typed something in. “That’s the address for a cheap motel there. As for work…well, what kind of..” he trailed off, and finally noticed the guitar sitting next to Jack’s bag. “Oh, you a musician? They hire locals to perform at a club down there, called Nightborn. It pays well, so I’m told. It’s something anyway, right? You have to audition though, before they’re officially open for the night. Think you can find your way from the hotel?”
“Yeah, I’ll just search for the address on Google. Thanks man. By the way – how do I get ahold of you?”
Roger spouted off a phone number. “I only get texts, so you’ll have to excuse that. Not like I can afford a regular plan or anything.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Roger said with a grin before shifting to lupus, and loping off into the woods. Jack sighed and shouldered his bag and guitar, then made his way towards his bike. He secured his belongings before starting up the bike, pointing it southward, and riding.
Forty-five minutes later, he was finally set up at the motel. It wasn’t great, but he couldn’t afford much, and it let you pay weekly. Food first. he thought as his stomach rumbled, and made his way to the nearest McDonald’s and grabbed a couple burgers to chow on before making his way to the nightclub. Fortunately for him, they were holding auditions now – you just needed to ask for the manager or the general manager. He opened the door and made his way inside, heading towards the bar to ask the bartender whom he needed to speak to.