Siltith stood on tip-toe, one small, hominid hand grasping her mother's huge clawed one. She was murmuring softly, and whimpering again. Tartr didn't want to intrude by listening, so she turned her attention to the newcomer. "Morning," she growled, and the taller werewolf tilted her head, "are you going to mourn, or would you rather stand guard?"

"I..." the dark haired wolfen head lowered a little, as she remembered her brothers. "I think I'll stand guard for you. I can take time once this is over..." her ears drooped, but she remained standing strong.

Tartr chuffed and nodded, then quietly added, "Thank you."

Morning lowered her head again, then backed into the undergrowth. She'd be sure to let the three siblings mourn undisturbed.

"Tartr," Bacar rumbled from the pyre. Standing at nearly ten feet, it was the tallest of all of them. It would be a fierce warrior under any normal circumstances, but tonight it looked frail and tired. It had managed to pry Siltith away from their dead mother, and she now clung to its black-furred leg, her face buried in the dark hair. "It's time."

"Right." Tartr dug in the bag they'd brought with them for the occasion and removed six stones. She handed two stones each to Bacar and Siltith. When Siltith nearly dropped hers, Tartr growled. The child fumbled and cringed, but managed to keep from spilled anything to the ground.

She waited for her siblings to position themselves around the pyre, and then, raising her muzzle skywards, she howled one sharp, piercing noted. "We dedicate this pyre to our mother, and her mother before, and the mothers before them," she intoned, "may their souls reach a place of good hunting. We dedicate this pyre to our pack-members who have been lost in battle, may their spirits be avenged!" The heavy sorrow that had held her since last night suddenly flared into anger. The beasts that had attacked her pack... and the others... they'd be slain, no matter how impossible that revenge might seem. Tartr would find a way. "May the souls who chose to interfere with the kin tremble with fear, and suffer thrice the suffering they've dealt! Let them burn with pain in the fire that cleanses our own souls!"

Bacar howled in response, while Siltith threw up a shaky warble. With the word spoken, Tartr and her siblings struck the stones together over the kindling. Sparks flew... a few died, but a few kept hold, and soon a fire was burning through the smaller branches. Tartr watched her section of the pyre carefully to make sure that the fire didn't gutter out. It didn't. She backed away and circled around to Bacar, who was helping Siltith keep her own section of the fire alive.

For a while there was nothing to do but watch. The three of them stood together, watching the flames consume the branches and logs, then lick up around their mother, who lay deceivingly peacefully at the top of the pyre. Siltith clung to Bacar's leg again, but she was dry eyed now, and silent except for the occasional whimper. Tartr, for her part, watched the fire broodily. She felt the pure rage in her heart grow with the leaping flames, and as the minutes passed, grew more convinced that she would deal the death blow to the beast that had decimated her pack in a single night.

The smell of burning wood could not quite cover the smell of singed fur and burning flesh. It was unpleasant, but it was something that had to be witnessed. If nothing else, at least their mother would be ensured a proper exit from the world...

The moon rose and crossed the sky, and the fire had burned itself down. though there were no more flames raised to the sky, the fire continued to send out waves of heat... enough so that they kept the small group warm through the night. Siltith had fallen asleep at some point, still leaning against Bacar's leg. The neuter and Tartr had remained silent the whole time, watching the pyre and reinforcing one another as they remembered their parents.

At some point, near dawn, Morning returned to Tartr's attention. The young woman still stood in her dark-furred natural form, and she stood at a respectful distance from the pyre and the siblings. "Come here." Tartr gestured gruffly, and Morning complied. When she was close enough, Tartr growled, "Today we decide how to take care of the beast."

Bacar had its ears perked, and it looked over at them. "So soon?" It asked.

Tartr ignored it. "We can't defeat it by ourselves, obviously."

Morning shook her head. "No... three half-grown werewolves? Not unless we're able to surprise it."

Bacar growled, "how can we surprise it--them, there were two, right?--if they know we're here already?"

The light-furred Tartr turned to her black sibling, finally. "We can't. We need to think of another way to deal with them."

The three of them fell silent for a moment, listening to the occasional crackle of the low fire, and the low snore of Siltith. Finally, Morning perked her ears forward. "These creatures, they were the size of dragons... perhaps we could bargain with a dragon to help defeat them?"

Tartr and Bacar both gave her a look. "What?" They said, in unison.

"A dragon," Morning continued, warming to the idea, "might help us. I remember once, when I was younger... our pack stumbled across one of them. It had a companion, and my parents were bargaining with him... the dragon was probably the same size as the beasts that attacked us, and as fierce looking. But... it didn't attempt to hurt us. Maybe," here she paused, bringing her train of thought into better focus, "maybe if we can find a dragon, we can bargain with it, or its companion, to help us defeat the beast?"

"And where are we going to find a dragon?" Tartr rumbled, her hackles up. No dragon was going to swipe her revenge from under her! Bacar put one huge, clawed hand on her thigh in a silent, calming gesture.

Without hesitation, Morning replied, "To the south. I'm not sure where, but I know this dragon came from the south..." She nodded her head with certainty.

Tartr rumbled again, wordlessly this time, and looked from Morning to Bacar, then down at Siltith, who stirred in her sleep. She didn't want to travel south. She didn't want to leave this place. But... she couldn't just charge in on the beast that had been after them, and hope to succeed by herself. "Morning... how many pack members remain in Swift-as-Wind?"

The dark-furred female drooped visibly. "Only my mother and sister, as well as my eldest brother's mate and cub."

Tartr nodded slowly. Swift-as-Wind had always been a large pack... they had always operated better with more members. "It won't be safe for you, any more then it is for us..." She glanced at Bacar and Siltith. "If our only option is to find something equally as strong as those beasts, then perhaps we had better group together."

"And all move south together?" Morning sounded skeptical.

"No." Tartr bared one fang, her hackles up. "We can't let those filthy beasts chase us out of our own land! We can perhaps harry them while someone goes south to find help." Bacar tilted its head, asking another wordless question. 'Who will go and who will stay,' its look seemed to say. "Morning. You will take Siltith and Bacar with you, join with Swift-As-Wind, and keep safe. I'll travel south, and bring help."

"You should bring someone with you." Morning scowled.

"No," Tartr said again. She didn't offer an explanation. The truth was that, despite her packing instincts... at this time, she just wanted to be left to herself. She wasn't ready to take Siltith or Bacar under her wing, but she wasn't ready to fall into place in any new pack. Morning stared at her, her light brown eyes challenging Tartr's golden ones. "What?" The younger werewolf growled, and Morning shrugged, backing down again.

"Nothing," she said. She looked at Bacar and Siltith, pointedly keeping her gaze away from Tartr. "If you go by yourself, you have to at least have a way of letting us know when you return."

"I will return," Tartr said simply. Morning chuffed, but Tartr ignored it. Finally, the lighter-furred werewolf conceded. "When I find help, I'll send you a message, one way or another."

Having reached that agreement, the lot of them fell silent again. They watched the dying fire, or the paling sky. The moment appeared peaceful, though it didn't feel at all that way for Tartr. Soon she'd be traveling south on her own--not abandoning her kin, she had to remind herself, but to find reinforcements. Just what she had to bargain with... she'd figure out later.