Ellesar's head pokes partially out of his brief hibernation post and to his surprise notices not one, but two dogs near Stogie. His hand instinctively grips the large knife he keeps by his side at all times as his tired eyes attempt to take in the scene. Noticing no hostility he allows himself to relax.

"Eh? Witness? What time is it?"

His joints ache as he manages his way out of the den of warmth and into the brisk air. His hands begin rubbing his limbs to get his blood flowing. "And since when do you have the ability to pop dogs out of thin air?"

"Heh. You'd be surprised what I can do with a good dog." says Stogie.

"No, this girl... her name is Lady... showed up at the edge of camp a few minutes ago. She's got a collar on and there's contact info on it for the owner. I bet if we got a hold of the owner he would be seriously happy to get his dog back, and he might also be an eye-witness to what happened in the town. Maybe give us a few answers?" Stogie reaches into his pocket and gives her a snackie. And, of course, the suddenly eager Jake gets one as well.

"Heard some wolves up in the hills a minute ago, too. Maybe a kilometer or two away. Don't know if it's our friends.

"Want some coffee? I'll make some if you like. I know you need your beauty sleep, but it might be tough to get back to sleep now."

"Coffee sounds great. I won't be getting anymore sleep any time soon anyway. Now that I'm up, I'm up." the elf retorts. "Where's Smohalla, still sleeping?"

Ellesar takes his time stretching his tired muscles and adjusting his slept-in clothes. After routinely searching through his pack and the medicine bag to make sure nothing's missing, he retrieves his camera and snaps a quick shot of the new canine.

With his head tucked under his wing and his advanced age, the night noises don't manage to rouse the sleeping eagle.

Stogie goes about making some coffee while Ellesar checks on his things and snaps a few photographs. Stogie retrieves water from the nearby creek and sets it on to boil. Jake circles Lady several times, but she remains flat on her belly, declining any invitations to play or otherwise interact. She seems tired; like Ellesar, she probably hasn't been getting enough sleep recently.

Ellesar feeds the fire a bit to ward away the morning chill. His breath hangs in front of him in puffy clouds, the cold sinking into his face and eyes. The water eventually boils, the rolling water a soothing sound. Stogie empties tiny packets of instant soykaf into two mugs and pours hot water over the crystalline powder. Luckily the proximity of Seattle means that even the instant soykaf is a notch above average. The smell of it is comforting. Jake associates the scent with breakfast and begins circling Stogie expectantly. Lady wanders close to the fire and lies down, resting her head on her front paws.

At the smell of the morning coffee (and new wood on the fire) Smohalla soars back to the physical world and wakes up.

The eagle glides down to the campsite and, form shimmering, changes into an old Amerind man, who dresses quickly against the chill.

The new dog is regarded for a second, the predator's eye evaluating, calculating weight distribution, defensive abilities, food possibilities.

Smohalla breaks off from this and sits by the fire, his gnarled hands held out to the warmth, a question looked at Stogie.

Who is our new visitor?

He then reaches for a water skin and takes a long pull.

I don't understand how you two got so big, drinking soykaf like that.

Stogie takes a swig of the soykaf. "She's a fugitive from the fire. She has an ID tag that gives contact info for her owner. After breakfast, I'll see if I can get a hold of the owner. I'm susre he will be willing to come out here to get her, and maybe we can get an eye-witness account of what happened in the town. It may tell us something."

He putters with some of the packaged food for breakfast, and gives a bit of kibble and human food to both Jake and Lady. He knows better than to let her eat as much as her hunger might drive her to do.

The freeze-dried food is flavorless and largely unfulfilling, which doesn't stop Jake from mopping up his portion and looking for more. Lady cautiously samples hers but doesn't much care for it. It doesn't seem like she's been starving these past two weeks; there must have been enough small game in the area to keep her going. Mmm, small game. That sounds pretty good after a pouch of eggs that were powdered a few minutes ago but are now rubbery and springy like cheese curbs. There's a packet of granola too but it quickly becomes water-logged and soggy, robbing it of any texture or sweetness. Maybe the technology to preserve flavor in freeze-dried food was lost in the Crash, or maybe it never existed at all. At least the soykaf is pretty good.

Washing his hands and the dishes in the creek, Stogie cleans up after breakfast. "Alright, let's see what we can find out from Lady's owner." Stogie checks the contact info stored in the dog tag and calls up the provided number.

Stogie, long accustomed to herding work and schedules defined by the sun, is about to call when a little voice in the back of his head reminds him that not everyone keeps the same schedule. It's, what, a Tuesday, right? More or less. He waits until 8 in the morning to make the call, figuring that a working man will be awake by then and that a retired guy wouldn't care. Or maybe 8 is still too early, since the voice on the other end of the phone sounds a bit tired and gruff when it answers, "What? Eh? Hello?"

Knowing how he would feel if his dog had been lost, how he did feel, Stogie doesn't waste any time with niceties. "I've found a dog by the name of Lady, in the wilds outside the town of Greenwater. Her ID tag gives this number to call. Are you her owner?"

"Eh? What? Who?" asks the confused man in a suspicious tone. "Is this a prank?"

Stogie calms explains the situation more fully, describing Lady in good detail, mentioning a couple of her more subtle features that would escape the eye of a layman but would be well-known to a dog owner, especially one who enters his canines in competitions.

"Yes! Lady! You found her?! Where are you? I'll be right out! I mean, I'm at home near the Seattle border. Where did you find her? I'll come to you, just give me a little while!"

Ellesar sits back and enjoys his meal while watching the dogs interact with Stogie. He allows his thoughts to wander to the past, enjoying the lull in activity for the moment.

Stogie, Ellesar, while we wait, this feels like a good time for me to talk to my friends.

Smohalla's head sags down on his chest as a ghostly eagle flaps it's wings in the astral, gaining altitude.

With a surge of speed, the astral form zips past well-known mountains and land, heading south.

Soon he spots the familiar glow of the Cascade Ork tribe and picks out the distinctive aura of one Grugnir, shaman to his people.

Manifesting outside of the tent, he calls out to his friend that he wishes to speak with him.

Grungir's teepee is actually 30km northeast of Greenwater but, hey, this is the astral plane. If Smohalla wants to fly south to get there, he can fly south. Taking off at a blistering pace, Smohalla opts for the scenic route, rocketing south along the Cascade mountains over Tir Tairngire and California Free State. Then there's a long, rather less interesting stretch as he hurtles over several thousand kilometers of the South Pacific Ocean. Antarctica is somewhat more notable, if only because the mana there is weak and lifeless. It leaves Smohalla with a cold feeling as certainly as if he had flown over the continent as an eagle in the mundane world.

Looping over the South Pole, Smohalla manages to warm up over the South Indian Ocean. It's another long, blue stretch, during which Smohalla is secretly grateful that water spirits cannot fly. He eventually cuts up through Central Asia, passing over Iran, Kazakhstan, and Russia. He makes a very brief detour to the west to avoid the edge of Yakut (Awakened Siberia). Smohalla might not be able to draw its borders on a map, but in the astral world it's like, "Woah, that's Yakut." Not wanting to be unduly killed, Smohalla sidesteps it and continues on his way over the North Pole. Then it's a relatively quick hop over the Trans-Polar Aleut Nation and the Athabaskan Council before finally reentering Salish-Shidhe. Such are the possibilities of the Awakened World.

40,000 kilometers later, Smohalla appears in front of Grungir's tent and verbally knocks. Cascade Ork is primarily composed of miners and smugglers. Miners know no hours - it's all the same underground - but smugglers are not known to be early risers. It seems that Grungir, whatever his responsibilities, falls into the latter category. He eventually emerges from his teepee, partially dressed and cursing the hour. Judging by his aura, a reasonable guess would be that he's enduring a headache from last night's "vision quest". Smohalla is off to a good start.

Greetings Grugnir. It is good to see you again.

I hope you and your tribe are prospering.

I apologize for the early hour, but I would ask you some questions.

We have found evidence of a group of three that seemed to be hunting the Sisters.

Do you know anything of this? An elf, a human, and one other who was not a dwarf or a troll.

Grungir staggers back a few steps as he rubs the bridge of his nose. He takes a hard seat on a log just outside of his teepee, right next to his satellite uplink. He bows his head and moans as his temples throb. "Ooo," he groans mournfully. "Ooo."

After he's had a minute to compose himself, he rubs the back of his neck and looks up at Smohalla. "A bounty was placed on the Sisters about a week ago. It is available for whomever wishes to rid the world of their scourge. I do not know of anyone in particular who has accepted the offer or made an attempt to fulfill it. Other than yourself, of course.

"When you came to me late last week I at first believed you to be in league with the Sisters. But then you said you had spoken with Gunny about the contract. He has been in contact with other groups since then, and I believe they have begun their respective hunts. It is entirely likely that the three you describe are one such team, but I do not know of them specifically.

"But since you yourself hunt the Sisters, why do you ask me about another group is doing the same? It is a very early hour to be asking about something which should be self-evident."

Thank you for you help in this Grugnir. And your trust.

We have the mission of stopping the Sisters in their course of destruction.

These other groups that were hired, they hurt our mission in more than one way.

They anger the Sisters, causing them to be more ruthless in their actions.

And they pose a threat to ourselves as well, as I wouldn't trust many of these...mercenaries...to be honorable.

It seems we should talk to Gunny about things.

Fare well, and may the blessings of the Great Mother comfort you in your time of distress.

This last is said with a kind but knowing smile as Smohalla fades from sight.

He quickly wings his way back to his body on the ever-present winds of aether.

Back at camp, Smohalla's body gives a slight jerk as he raises his head and looks at his companions with bright eyes.

My friend tells me Gunny has contracted with other groups as well as with ours.

Stogie gives directions to the startled man, and waits. He figures it should be an hour or so at the least before Lady's owner can arrive. In the meantime, He observes the two dogs, and watches Lady for clues about her personality as she reacts to Jake.

Smohalla returns before Lady's owner arrives, and provides the suspected news. "So we weren't the only ones hired. Why would a Johnson hire more than one team at the same time to do the same job? Seems like a waste of money and a serious lack of efficiency. What's Gunny thinking?"

Maybe he has not heard from us in several days and fears the worst?

I wonder about telling Gunny to stop with these other contracts.

We might have to explain the situation to him, which may not be exactly how he imagined it ending up.

As predicted, an hour later a Rover 2068 tears into Greenwater and screeches to a halt on an empty street on the other side of the river. Lady's ears perk up and she gives a look of recognition to the sound of the SUV. A older man jumps out in an obvious hurry. Stogie and Smohalla watch him from a distance, picking out details. He appears to be in his late 50s or early 60s. He's got a head of graying hair and a generous spare tire around his middle. Or, more politely, he looks "well fed". Stogie notices that he's wearing a Victory Globetrotter jacket - hunting gear for rich people. Somewhat at odds to its intended purpose, the jacket looks clean and pressed. The SUV also looks washed and shiny, although it's picking up a bit of ash and dust from Greenwater.

The man doesn't immediately see the group. He calls out "Lady!" and she instantly responds. She jumps to her feet and then sprints toward him at high speed. She deftly navigates the river before racing up the bank on the other side. She jumps when she sees him. He bends over and wraps his arms around her as she wags furiously. He rubs her neck and her ears as she beams. Jake watches the reunion intently. Stogie fights a single tear.

Ellesar doesn't notice the man at first, but his attention is quickly captured by the call and the dog bolting off. He watches the reunion of two old friends, a small smile drifting across his face. "It's always good to see the lost found. I am sure the old man spent many hours in grief for his companion."

After watching the reunion for a few moments, Smohalla turns to his companions.

He opens his mouth to suggest going to talk to the visitor.

A sudden thought brings him up short.

That dog is possibly a good witness to the events of Greenwater's destruction.

Stogie, does your magic allow you to communicate with animals to the extent you can find out?

"I can only communicate with a dog with which I have bonded magically, and even then, the level isn't down to stories and sentences, but only impressions and senses. Anyway, I'm hoping the man will be the more useful witness." Stogie steps forward and waves to attract the man's attention. "Hello there! Good to see Lady happy like that."

The man waves back across the dividing river. He looks uncertain of how to proceed. The river is not deep nor especially treacherous, but he is far removed from his days of youth and agility. He seems to think that - as he is currently in your debt - he should be the one to come to you. He tiptoes gingerly down the bank of the river before halting at the wet rocks that line the shore. He looks upriver and downriver for an easy way to cross. Not finding an obvious route, he steps back and forth in place before looking over to you with a look that says, I tried.

It seems we will have to go meet him on his terms.

"Sounds easy enough," Ellesar declares frankly. He sets his jaw and heads into the shallow water of the river.

Stogie follows Ellesar, Jake at his side. Wet feet aside, the crossing is no problem. Together, he and Jake stride to the man with Lady. "My name is Stogie. This is my buddy, Jake. I found Lady over there in the trees early this morning. She looks happy to see you."

Smohalla stays at the camp, keeping an eye on the proceedings from his warm spot by the fire.

Ellesar bravely traverses the river, the water lapping eagerly at his ankles. Unfazed, he leads Stogie and Jake to the far side where they emerge from the gurgling brook to a hero's welcome. The man rushes over to meet them, showering them with gratuitous thanks and effusive praise.

"This is unbelievable!" he says, shaking the men's hands enthusiastically. "I had given up all hope! This is remarkable, just truly remarkable. I just ... I don't ... I can't..." He trips over his words, emotion welling up in his eyes. "Thank you. Really, just thank you." He bends over and composes himself by vigorously rubbing Lady's head and neck. "Who's a lucky Lady? Who is? You are!" She brushes him back with a deft lick of her tongue. "Who's getting a commlink of her own for Christmas? You are!"

After an embarrassingly long spell of appreciation for you interspersed with fawning affection for Lady, he finally introduces himself as Taft. He doesn't look particularly native, but neither does Ellesar. Historically, the blood requirements to establish oneself as "native" were so generously low that many men and women were able to remain in Salish-Shidhe even if, by all outward appearances, they were as white and chubby as this fellow.

"I am in your debt, truly I am. Is there anything I can do for you? Is there anything you need? Are you here for a reason or were you just passing by town? Can I give you a lift? Just say the word!"

"Well, I'm glad you have your good friend back. We are wondering if you know anything about what happened to the town here. Did you see what happened?"

The fire burns down a little, putting off less heat than before.

A few branches thrown from the small pile nearby blaze up nicely.

Smohalla holds his hands out to the flames, his eyes on the meeting across the river.

"Did I see what happened? No, no, I was at home on my ranch. I bring Lady up here because it's closer than driving to North Bend for a dog groomer. I left her overnight for a style cut, nail trimming, teeth brushing, a bath - shampoo, conditioner, blow dry - ear plucking, ear cleaning... the works! We call it doggy day camp. But then I got the call the next morning saying the place had caught fire, so I raced straight here. I didn't know he meant the whole town! I mean, look at this place -" He hold his hands out and twists around, indicating the scorched earth of the town. "The destruction was total! The guy said that he barely had time to get out of the place himself - his house was attached to the business. He said he was having a strange dream when he woke up and saw his place was on fire. He said he staggered outside just before the roof collapsed. Said he didn't have time to let any of the animals out. I believed him! All the residents were wandering around that morning in a daze, trying to pick things out of the rubble; everyone had the same story about how fast it happened, how nobody had any time to react. I didn't spend any time looking for Lady... didn't want to foster false hopes..." He starts to choke up at the memory of it. His eyes well slightly and he snuffles, but he recomposes himself by looking at Lady. "But of course now I wish I had. Might have saved myself a couple weeks of sleepless nights."

He kneels down awkwardly next to Lady to pet her a little more, his aura reflecting both intense relief and a sense of disbelief at his luck.

"But can you believe it that nobody was hurt? A guardian angel must have been protecting the residents here. I overheard several people mention that they heard a little voice in their head telling them to wake up. One guy said a little munchkin appeared to him in his dream and kept kicking him in the shin until he woke up. Another guy said he dreamed his brother came into the room and said it was time for school. He panicked and woke up. He's 30 years old - hasn't been in school for a dozen years! I'm a practical man, not quick to believe in miracles... but in this day and age? You'd have to be a fool not to."

Ellesar waits patiently through the man's speech, contemplating the idea of taking a photo of the dog's owner. Hearing the story come to a close the elf speaks up. "Well, that's certainly an interesting tale, if it's true. Would you happen to have a way to contact the guy who owned the store? I think a first-hand experience would help us find what we're looking for."

Taft scratches his head. "Well, I can give you his business number. I doubt he'll answer, given the current state of his business, but you could leave a message or send something to his inbox, I suppose."

Snippets of conversation are captured by the wind, lofted high and landing occasionally where Smohalla might hear them.

branch...destruction...bubble...sleepless fights....business number...I oppose...

Smohalla's eyes narrow. Perhaps he should learn lip-reading. His eyes certainly are sharp enough.

Stogie perks up at the mention of warning dreams. Ahah. So, we're tending towards the Sisters' side of the story, now.

"What you've said is already helpful. Thanks. Yeah, pass me the contact info and I'll see what the man has to say. He may have other dogs around here that need to find a home." He opens up an ARO for Taft to load the contact information.

"I'm glad Lady and you found each other. If you don't mind, could you give me your info, too? I'd like to drop in on you after a while to check in on Lady. I kinda feel connected to her, now."

Taft readily passes along his contact information as well as the contact information for the dog grooming business, Happy Tails. The proprietor's name is Billy Winkler.

The magic of this place is foul.

Smohalla feels coated by it, infected with the taint.

He'll be happy when they can return to the pure mana of the mountains.

These thoughts lead him to think of his tribe, the Shahptian Wanapum.

Perhaps he should have a visit with them, make sure they are all well.

Taft, not knowing what else to say, bids Lady to jump in the car. She does so, assuming a perch on the passenger's seat. Taft pulls his great mass into the driver's seat of the luxury SUV and drives off with a grateful wave.

Smohalla sits on the ground, his back against a log. He closes his eyes and lets his chin touch his chest as his shoulders slump. He separates himself from the material world as his aquiline-astral self soars away. In a matter of seconds, his spirit has crossed the Cascades. Very soon he finds himself at the convergence of the Snake and Columbia rivers. It is the ancestral land of the Shahptian Wanapum. Smohalla quickly finds his adopted home. He sees some of the tribe going about their early-morning business. Smohalla manifests among them, causing many to pause what they are doing. They come over to greet him and ask after his health. They are good. The rivers have been abundant this season. The Chinook have just finished their spawning, and the Shahptian Wanapum caught many. Smohalla can see filleted fish all around him, propped up against fires for smoking and curing for the winter. Coho season is underway, and the tribesman are off to their nets to receive what the rivers will provide. They are content. What might they do for Smohalla?

I am glad to see that my people prosper, The Great Spirit smiles on us.

In my travels I have thought on you, my brothers and sisters.

It seems there is no cause for concern.

Smohalla spends time conversing with his tribe, learning of births and deaths and betrothals and acts of bravery and cowardice.

A small part of him misses this life, wishes he could have been content to live out his years with these people of the rivers.

Yet the pull of his spirit vision tugs at him ever stronger.

Saying his goodbyes, he vanishes from the lands of the Shahptian Wanapum and returns to his new tribe in Greenwater

Stogie waves goodbye to Lady and her human, and says, "I'll give the groomer a call and see what he can tell us about the events around the fire. Taft's account seems to give weight to what the Sisters are saying. Murdering terrorists wouldn't have sent dreams to warn the townspeople."

He calls Billy Winkler's number.

Stogie places the call while Smohalla is out. There is no answer; the call goes to voice mail.

A tired, depressed voice reads the following message:

"Hello. You have reached Happy Tails Dog Boarding and Day Care. We are closed indefinitely due to a catastrophic fire. We apologize for the inconvenience. Happy tails to you, 'till we meet again." There is an audible sigh before the recording disconnects.

There is no invitation to do so, but Stogie figures that he can leave a voice or a text message. Whether or not the owner is actively checking the account, or would choose to respond, are separate matters.

Stogie decides to leave a message. "Hello, Mr. Winkler. My name is Stogie. I'm standing in the middle of Greenwater. It's ..." Stogie checks and gives time and date. Things like that get confused in the forest. "A Mr. Taft gave me your number. I found his dog Lady out here and got a hold of him to return her. He told me a little about what happened here in the town, but I'd like to hear more if you can take the time to talk with me. And if you know of any other animals that went missing, maybe I can check around. I have a knack with dogs and may be able to bring more back home."

Smohalla returns from his journey and settles back in to his body that hasn't moved an inch.

Seeing the others still engaged with whatever it is they're doing on the other side of the river, he decides to make himself useful.

A quick walk brings him to the edge of the water where he calls out to his companions.

I will go and buy the items Ellie requested. I will be back shortly.

With this said Smohalla heads back towards town. He hopes he can find some kind of general store still open.

This thought gives him a moments pause.

Surely Ellie remembers this town, the one the Sisters themselves destroyed not that long ago.

Well, only a walk in to the wreckage that is Greenwater will decide matters.

List in hand, the eagle shaman continues walking.

Smohalla walks into town and finds nothing left. Give the Sisters an A for Effort - there's not a stick standing in Greenwater. Everything is heaps of ash and scorched metal. There's no place to buy a pack of gum, let alone imported English teas. If Smohalla wishes to walk in a real town - as in, a town that exists - he will have to continue down the road (and past the Seattle border) to Enumclaw, 34 kilometers to the west.

Smohalla walks through the rubble that was Greenwater, lost in thought.

Did Ellie misunderstand where the trio were headed?

Or maybe she wasn't aware of the devastation that was wrought?

A storm of possibilities raged between the eagle's ears.

He continued his wandering, allowing the spirit of the moment to guide him.

Wandering takes the eagle shifter in a random pattern through the destruction that was Greenwater.

Here was a firehouse, there was a church, over there a goods store, next door a block of housing.

He can imagine children playing in the yard over there.

The playground now a burnt and crumbling wreck.

So much lost, so much gone. Smohalla shakes his head sadly.

This is not what he fights for. This is the opposite of all he wishes to accomplish.

He heads back to the campsite where he hopes his teammates have better news.

Even though he doesn't walk very fast, it doesn't take long for Smohalla to wander the length of town, which is only two kilometers from end to end. The devastation is total and, for the most part, there's been no effort to clean any of it up. He can see Llewellyn's place, which has been tidied up somewhat, but the rest of the plots look untouched. Perhaps people will rebuild in the spring, after the winter snows have come and gone. Or perhaps the town has been dug up by the root and now there's nothing left to regrow. The mana acts as a clamp on Smohalla's chest. Maybe one day the mana of the forest and mountains will reclaim this place, but for now the scene is dominated by fear and heartbreak. True, these people only lost their possessions, not their lives, but a home is more than a possession. Material things sometimes transcend their baser natures, receiving meaning and emotional value from the metahuman world. As a dual-natured being, Smohalla knows this better than most.

Stogie, seeing that Smohalla has wandered off for a moment, does a lap around the campsite with Jake looking for traces of other dogs that may have escaped. Using his heightened senses, he inhales deeply, searching for scents. Neither Jake nor Stogie can detect any other domesticated dogs, but scent of wolves is distinct and recent. Stogie returns to town, cross-referencing a now-dated map of the town from his commlink with the apocalyptic scene in front of him. He finds the location of the dog grooming store and treads onto the rubble. Again, he breathes deeply, afraid of what he might find but still compelled to search for it. To his relief, there is no trace of burned hair or bodies. Were the other dogs able to escape as well, or has time simply erased the evidence of their destruction? If they escaped, wouldn't Billy have seen or heard them? If not, would they have survived in the forest? The fate of the other dogs is uncertain, but it's troubling nonetheless.

Ellesar follows the others, documenting everything thoroughly with his camera. The catastrophe resonates deeply with him, conjuring angry and despondent memories of what happened to his family in Chicago. Ares itself could not have flattened this town more effectively than the Sisters did. He notes that there's little sign of an investigation here, but what was there to investigate? The cause seems clear. What to do about it is the tougher question.

Clutching at his chest as though he is having a heart attack, Smohalla stumbles back in to camp and collapses near the fire.

The sense of fear and heartache became overwhelming on the astral in the remains of the town.

As a dual-natured being he had no way to shut himself off from the painful memories of Greenwater's loss.

Smohalla forces his breathing to slow, bringing his hammering heartbeat down to normal levels for a were-eagle.

He runs through his centering techniques, calming and composing himself before opening his eyes and taking a sip of water.

Surely there must be a way to cleanse the mana of this place, to bring about a healing on the astral as well as the physical.

He is lost in contemplation when his teammates return to the campsite.