Part II. Two Stories The moot was a rousing success. Shell-ears was enjoying herself, flirting shyly with a second cousin, snacking on the carrots and pigs-in-blankets, play-wrestling with a litter of wolf cubs as their lupus Garou mother sat watching indulgently. Moots at Sky-Eye were big laid-back parties, tone set by the Children of Gaia, spiced with the large minority of Uktena they shared their caern with. This was a big one, and they'd invited the neighboring sept, so there were quite a few interesting near-strangers, mostly Shadow Lords and Glasswalkers. The young, single Kinfolk were especially interested in the visitors, Shell-ears overheard one of the Sky-Eye elders whispering to her mate. She wandered on, taking a cookie to munch as she took it all in. Shell-ears' favorite part of any moot was the storytelling. She settled down next to the group of Galliards who were setting a performance order before the start of the second set. Anyone who had a piece ready for first performance got primary consideration to be included; next, anyone else who had never performed at a Sky-Eye moot; after that it went by rank until all the time slots were taken. Shell-ears smiled with pride at the way her sept's Talesinger, serving as master of ceremonies, made this happen without even one argument over precedence; she was sure other septs could not boast this achievement. Soon the Warder called the moot to order and introduced the Talesinger, who introduced the first performer. Bat-song, newly promoted to adult rank, would sing the story of how her brother and his patrol rescued a cub.... "Hey," Shell-ears thought, "they're talking about ME!" As Bat-song started to sing, Shell listened; but soon her anger threatened to make her unable to hear through the roaring in her head. The way Bat-song told it, the monster had been about to devour Shell-ears when the patrol, warned by Shell-ears' mother that she was straying too close to the bawn's edge, came upon it. Together they made it drop her, then Bat-song's brother delivered the killing blow. What made Shell-ears the most angry was that the song's action took place as though the creature were uninjured when the patrol saw it first; Shell-ears knew she had delivered devastating wounds. She stood up, meaning to leave, but just then Bat-song's verse scolded her for endangering the lives of Garou; she felt she was losing Honor - her rage overtook her and she howled out a challenge of defamy. Bat-song stopped, eyes widening. The Master of the Challenge was behind Shell-ears in an instant, holding her immobile in his strong arms. "The challenge is invalid, the challenger is not of age," he called out to the room, and pulled Shell-ears away from the gathering. He took her to a chamber. Moments later, Bat-song joined them, along with a senior philodox of the sept, and Shell-ears' mother. The philodox spoke first, the graying fur around her muzzle quivering with suppressed emotion. "Child, you should know better than to issue challenge to your septmate in front of guests! You will bring dishonor on your caern. This should have waited until the moot was over, or at the very least you should have brought your complaint to the Talesinger. How rash you are to --" Shell-ears could take it no longer. "She was lying! She was bringing down my honor - I fought that creature! I was no whimpering cub --" Her mother overrode her. "You were a foolish, headstrong, reckless cub. No honor is in that, though no dishonor either, we have all been young. I told you to come inside, and you refused. You were undisciplined and you endangered your own life and others'." Shell-ears gritted her teeth, and glared. Why couldn't they see how unfair this was? She had stayed within the bawn. She had fought the attacker bravely and wounded it into easy prey. It was because she was metis, they were prejudiced. They couldn't see her as an adult and an equal. They couldn't give her credit for anything! Shell-ears shook her head, fighting back tears, and ran back to the galliards' area. One of the high-ranking visitors, a Shadow Lord or Glasswalker, she didn't know which, was tuning a guitar. He looked right at her! She looked down, not wanting him to see how angry she was. She did care about sept honor. He smiled as she turned away, seeming only for her. He announced his song as "The Ballad of Spiderwall Diane," and the Talesinger looked at him with surprise. Changing his tune, was he? Their eyes met and a staredown commenced. Talesinger relented, unwilling to let this minor matter escalate into a conflict between caerns. He told the story of a heroine thief, a modern day Garou female Robin Hood of sorts, stealing from the Wyrm's minions and giving to the defenders of Gaia. He told how her own sept refused to sing her praises, denying that she was doing any good, though Gaia recognized her service and granted her ever more powerful gifts despite her low rank in the eyes of the elders. He told how after she sacrificed herself in one final escapade, when her own sept's Talesinger refused to make a song in her honor, Gaia sent a spirit bard to sing her praises and life's work at the moot after her demise. Shell-ears listened in awe. It seemed as though he was singing directly to her. The final line of the spirit's song about Diane was that the dishonor of the metis was to the parent, not the child. Once again she fought back tears. When he finished, and the next singer began, Shell-ears heard nothing. Her mind sang back that song to her, over and over. She watched everyone around her and they seemed to be a group she no longer belonged to, nor had any desire to. That night, Shell-ears packed up her few belongings and left the caern. She followed the visitors out and caught up with the man who'd sung about Spiderwall Diane. They talked for hours, and he gave her the name of a few contacts in his former sept, hundreds of miles away, assuring her that with his recommendation they'd take her in. She had somewhere to go and no home to return to, she felt. That was the last of Shell-ears. From then on she called herself Diane.