Council. Skye Collins, leader of Cercatori d'Arte, had named the young witch doctor, Sky Rhiannon... council. The guardian ranked variation of such, at that.

It was no longer her job to sing and dance and preform. It was no longer her job to quell the dark emotions in people and celebrate with song.

Now it was her job to protect everything they'd worked so hard to acheive. It was her job alone, now that Taliesin was gone away, to make sure the pack was safe from any more harm.

Except... she had no idea what to do. She wasn't a leader. She wasn't a knight. She was pregnant with pups, for gods' sake! How was she supposed to figure out a cure to the crazies they'd been getting since the pack's creation!?

There was only one thing she could do. She had to suck in her pride and head to the place she'd avoided for so long. The Treetop Terrace.

She had to go see the true founder of d'Arte and the only leader she'd ever respected as such (as it was, Skye was unfortunately not proving herself in her inherited rank very well...); Shawchert Menue.

Her trek there was shadowed by the little bobcat, Fella, who'd refused to leave her side since Taliesin had left a few nights prior. The entire way there, both canine mother and feline child walked in silence. Sky's mind was reeling and Fella had only one task in his trek; protecting his pregnant mother from harm.

Finally the terrace towered overhead. Sky paused to glare at the ropes that acted as ladders and instead of heading up, she stayed below. She knew Orin would be elsewhere, doing pack tasks and the like. She could only hope that Shawchert would be home.

And for the first time in a long time, she howled his beckon. It was a howl meant solely for the man she used to call her mate. The man she once wanted to mother pups for. The leader she'd come to love in the past. Now, she loved him, but the love was that of a sister for a brother, or for best friends. She could only pray that the man, the monster she'd seen nights before, ready to kill for the sake of her unfortunate daughter...

...would be willing to call her a friend, to give her the advice she sought from him, and to help her where she had no one else.

Her song-like voice died away into the winter air and she waited. Fella sat at her feet as she leaned against one of the wide tree trunks, a hand on her stomach and another tucked into her jeans pocket. Well, Fella. Let's hope he's home.

Hm. Came the bobcat's only reply as he watched the area with alert, dangerous eyes and perked ears.

When Shawchert appeared, it surprised Sky to see him not coming from his home in the trees. He was patrolling? Again? Concern crossed through her eyes and she frowned at his silence. I expected a better hello than that. The strong silent type doesn't look good on you. She mused, forcing a playful smile onto her face. She stood up from the tree and approached him with steady steps. ...how have you been holding up? Orin told me about the break up. Her voice held only empathy. She knew the pain and she knew it had hurt him more than ever to lose a second love like that. For a moment, she wondered if things could've been different, had they stayed together.

A kick to her lower ribs told her otherwise. Things happened for a reason. He'd survive, just as she did. Hopefully.

...It's a hard time we're going through. I think I'm the only one who's accepted that Tammy's gone. Everyone else still has that dread about them. She frowned and glanced back towards Thornbury, torn ears flicking back. ...I haven't seen the pack this torn apart since Argul's rampage. She was pushing every single button, and it was on purpose. The sooner he let it out, the sooner he'd get over it and she knew Shawchert well enough by now to know how much Tammy's death and Orin's break up had effected him. She only hoped that this time, tough love would do the trick.

Still sitting at the base of the tree, Fella smirked wryly. This would be an interesting scene to watch play out. I love it when Mom gets mean. Their faces are always worth the yelling.

Sky listened intently and kept a calm face the entire time, her eyes flashing with empathy when he spoke of patrolling. It's not important, Shawchert. She stated flatly. How does that have anything to do with the pack surviving? She waited a moment, though the question was obviously not one meant to be answered.

We don't need more patrols. We need more unity. With everyone working seperately at trying to keep out an enemy that barely poses a threat now, how the hell are we supposed to stick together and survive the winter as a pack?

For a moment, she paused again. Then, she turned away to walk back over to where she'd been waiting for him, to lean on that tree again for support. This murder's got the pack torn apart, Shawchert. We're dieing. She'd never been more serious than she was now. Her tone, her stance, her eyes... her eyes told of wisdom that hadn't been there before, the last time they'd actually spoken. Her time in AniWaya had taught her how broken a pack could get over one member's wrong doings. She didn't want to see the same happen here in her own pack. She wouldn't let it happen. It would not happen.

I don't say this to hurt you, Shawchert. I care about you. You're my closest friend, despite everything that's happened between us. I don't want to see the family that you've worked so hard on bringing together fall apart. You may not be the Alpha anymore, but you're still a leader. I know you are. It's in your nature. She stood again and walked over to him, no hesitation as she placed a hand on each of his shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. Don't give up on us now, Shawchert. Don't let this control who you are. We need you. Her voice fell from that tone she'd been using and that wisdom lessened into open windows, her eyes letting him know how much she, too, was hurting. I need you.

He went on about not being in the mood for 'unity', and blah blah blah. Though Sky listened, all she heard was the ranting of a broken hearted man. A broken soul. She frowned, a deep set expression matched with eyes cold and just as stubborn as he was being. She decided the best course of action at that moment was to derail him completely from this train of thought.

Taliesin left a few nights ago. You're not the only one dealing with marital issues, Shawchert. My kid's dead, my step-son's a murderer, my mate is AWOL and my pack is falling apart. She rumbled, standing firm where she was, but lowering her hands. Shit's hit the fan and there's nothing we can do about it. I guess you're right. She shrugged, voice lowering, and then she turned away from him. Time to act.

It all seemed real and in a way, it was. All she had to do was let her exterior emotions settle into the hidden depths of how she was feeling. In an instant, she turned from hopeful friend into broken widow.

Why bother trying to fix the pack? Things will get better if they're meant to, right? No one has to work for it. Fate decides if we live or die, right? She crossed her arms infront of her and hunched her shoulders up, as if trying to stay warm. I mean, it's not like we have any strong or smart members in the pack anyway. We're all too stupid to know how to hold a pack together, right? No one would be able to understand if someone were to take charge and try to fix the damages. We'd all look at them as if they were speaking Egyptian, right?

She turned again, this time with sad eyes to look at Shawchert's own deep blue ones. Why bother, right? We'll just keep patrolling the borders to keep out newcomers and strangers. We have a territory to protect, right?

Then, the expression on her face changed completely and she scowled, stepping over to him and reaching up to cuff him upside the ear. Idiot. She scolded, voice going back to normal again. You sound like a child who's lost his toy. Stop sulking and get over it.

She stepped back and set a hand on each hip, tail flagging upwards. You, sir, are Shawchert Menue, Founder of Cercatori d'Arte and proud father of two beautiful young girls. Titania is just like you; she's gone to live her own life, hasn't she? Point one. But Juliet's still here. How is she to learn how to survive if her parents are too busy sulking at the borders to spend time with her and teach her the things she needs to know, huh? What about hunting? Self defense? Socializing? She's had a hard enough time as it is. How the fuck is she supposed to adjust to this if her damn father is too busy living in the past to bother helping her? Ouch.

You're a grown man, Shawchert Menue. Older than just about anyone else in this pack. You've lived years on the rest of us, and this is how you behave? Like it or not, your age and the fact that you're a founder makes you someone people should look to for guidance and reassurance. Of course everyone's messed up! It's because they have no one to look to for help! You're too busy sulking and wandering around like a dog without a bone to bother looking at the bigger picture here.

And then, she was going for the anger. She turned around and with a saunter in her step, held her hands up as if they were faces, opening and closing them as she spoke, as if they were the ones talking. Oh no! Someone's baby girl was murdered right before our eyes and we could do nothing to prevent the murderer's escape! Oh, woe is us, we've nothing left to live for! She turned back around to face him, glaring daggers at him. One would think the mother who lost her fucking child would be the last one mourning. Sure enough though, I'm the first one to get my act together. I look around and I see a bunch of lazy, stupid mutts wallowing in their own stupid self pity.

Lifting her nose, she stared down at him, in a sense. Grow the fuck up and get over it, Shawchert. You're a guardian to this pack, so start protecting it properly. You're not a scout. As your council woman, and I am now thanks to Skye, by the way, I hereby make my first order; get your act together and stop being such a fucking baby. And then, she was done.

Behind her, Fella gawked, eyes wide and jaw slack. Had he just seen that!? He'd never, ever, seen anyone go on such a rant before in his life! For a moment, he stared at the brown wolf he'd come to call his foster mother, before whooping a "Ooooooooh!" in a comical release of tension. Damn cat.

When he questioned, obviously angry and frustrated, she smiled knowingly. She sent Fella a dark look and the cat shut up, but she waited until Shawchert was done talking before responding after a moment of silence.

No one's asking you to stop defending the pack, Shawchert. And you'd find it in your best interest to continue doing that job, but you're not doing things properly at the moment. On a normal month, patrolling would be fine... but right now, we have more work ahead of us than just keeping out the bad seeds. Her voice was controlled, gentle again.

She felt a pang of guilt for being cruel as she had been and she sighed. I promise you, I didn't mean a word of that, Shawchert. You really are my closest friend, despite it all. I need you right now. The whole pack does, but patrolling isn't what we need the most. She felt her composure lowering by the second. She had to get this over with quickly, before her steady voice failed her.

I have some ideas that may help the pack, but I don't know for sure what ones to implement first, or what ones Skye would approve of. She looked up at him with a flash of determination. Self Defense training. Teach every single member in the pack how to hold their own in battle, based on their strengths and weaknesses. That way, no one is helpless. A Curfew for the pups. Anyone under a year must be inside after dark, with thier parents or a high-ranked wolf present. Someone trusted. During the day, no pups under six months may leave Thornbury under any conditions. At six months, they can go into the territory in the company of their parents or someone of highest rank. She rambled out, obviously reciting what she'd been keeping in her head the entire time.

Safety procedures. Ways to keep the pack safe when we're not there to protect him. No one can know a person perfectly, inside and out, in the time it takes for them to know which are good or evil. Simple as that. It's impossible. She shook her head and sighed. We're better off preparing for the worst than hoping for the best. It's survival and we've known a soft life otherwise. Luperci's made us soft, like nothing can touch us. That was the mistake humans made...

Eyes grew cold and hard as she locked gazes with him, ears pinned back and hackles lifted a bit. We are not humans. We are still wolves and we will not lose sight of what's important as they did. She rumbled dangerously. As much as Sky appreciated human traditions (such as marriage and christmas), she hated the way they'd thought. Preventing it wasn't the plausible solution. Defending against it was. Adapting to it. Learning from it. Surviving.

At the mention of ages, Sky nodded. She hadn't thought over the curfew plan very well, simply that one might need to be in place. Let's not drop the idea entirely just yet. Maybe end the curfew once they can shift, but add a night watch... She murmured, going over the idea in her head. Truth be told, she was still uneasy as well, but she had a different way of dealing with it.

But nevermind. Self defense training. I'm glad you agree, because you're going to be the one running it with me. She smirked at him, that look of mischief in her eyes again. I'd do it myself, but... She looked down at herself and waved her hands on either side of her stomach, swollen and pregnant as it was. I don't think it's a good idea for me, just yet.

She mulled over the unfortunate status she was in for a moment and then sighed. So will you help me? We'll need to run this by Skye first, but I have some good ideas about how to get things started. We'll test everyone's strengths and weaknesses first, find the people who actually know how to fight and pair them up with people who don't for training. We'll work with each member depending on their abilities and make sure everyone stands an equal chance if they're attacked.

With a rather flamboyant grin, she clapped a fist into her own hand and flicked her tail up. Ain't no one gonna mess with d'Arte ever again. And if they do, we'll kick their ass. Okay, now she was just excited.