Ranshee returned to the Aerd triumphant after her second Hunt, on the back of one of her newest Pack members-- and without even waiting for Nocol and Noiku. There was no need for her to stay: she had her own "wings", in the forms of three new Packmates and Azeron, and she hadn't even been invited to that Hunt. She had, instead, known about it because Nocol and Noiku were in charge of it, and had demanded to be taken along. Nocol wasn't about to deny her, and so along she went.

It had been a successful Hunt. First, during an attack of living, writhing, poisonous vines, Ranshee had spotted and pointed out one of the culprits, letting the larger Azeron do the work of actually defending her from the murderous plants. The massive bronze had pinned a furry, green creature, Jauoteth, much to the dragon's dismay. ::Tell your demon to get off my head!:: he'd screamed, half terrified and half indignant, struggling against the much larger bronze dragon. ::I'll go with you, but get him off!::

Freed by her command, and intimidated by her fierce glare, he had opened his mind to her for her examination. Her first thought was that the furry creature was not suited for pack life at all: he was timid, skittish, and easily manipulated. At the same time, he was remarkably clever, more so than even Azeron, and had natural camouflage-- the first of her pack besides herself to do so! After this, much larger pack was dispersed, he would have no protection, and he knew it-- and if he tried to join another pack in the swamp he would be driven away for his failures here. Ranshee offered protection, an escape from the dreary swamp, and a leader; Jauoteth would submit, and even if he never accepted the truth that Ranshee had saved him from a life she would forever scorn, at least he was hers, and she had a new Packmate.

Azeron chased Jauoteth to the camp, leaving Ranshee to temporarily fend for herself. The battle had ebbed, and Ranshee found herself beside Nocol and Noiku-- she suspected suspiciously that Nocol had done that on purpose. It made her angry to not be able to look after herself-- or to be thought that she couldn't look after herself. Soon, she had promised herself right then, she would work on her shifting, don her true form, and actually feel comfortable in her own skin... as soon as she had a Packmate she could trust.

When the battle joined again, led by a multi-headed... thing, whose mental voice sent weak-minded, injured Noiku to his knees, Ranshee finally found that Packmate. While Nocol was busy blasting a recalcitrant, captured dragon with a burst of water, and Ranshee was busy glaring at him for aiding the horrible Drakiera's schemes, she got distracted by a movement in the foliage behind her. There was a mind there, cleverly hidden in the shape of an animal, but still with the scent of dragon and the mind of a sentience far clearer than her own. Ranshee whirled and instinctively pounced, engaging in a tussle with the largest, fiercest... orangest... serpent, that she had ever seen. Somehow, despite her small, frail body, she managed to subdue the snake: throwing her mind at it as much as her physical form, battering its will into submission more than throttling its much more powerful coils into quiescence.

::So you've found me,:: the disguised dragoness' voice proclaimed, ::I am Broken Rage, but I shall join you... you have proven your strength.::

And, like any good Packmember, she invited Ranshee's examination. Instantly, in the same second it took for Broken Rage to shuck her serpent form and regain her much larger dragon's body, Ranshee knew she had the perfect protection for her own shape-shifting pain, for this dragoness would never betray her.

That had been enough, but that had not been all. Making her final rounds of the camp and its surrounds, well after the fight had ended and the few remaining free-Wylds had escaped, Ranshee caught another skulking mind, hiding underneath one of the hastily-rigged platforms, matted with mud. He was hiding, but he was not hidden: his mind was deliberately and blatantly open, and he was watching her. She took the invitation for what it was, and seized his consciousness for the intense, holistic investigation all her Pack Members underwent.

Autaru. Calm, unruffled, kind and compassionate-- a healer, a rare creature in the Wyld or the wild. And yet he wanted her-- not as a possession, not as a mate, or she would have chased him away in fury-- but for some deeper reason she could not fathom. Admiration given. Affection coveted. Approval desired. He was like a pup with no dam. Snarling away the mental picture, she barked, "You come!" almost without thinking about it. He let himself be dragged by a Pack Leader so much smaller than he to where Broken Rage, Jauoteth, and Azeron waited for their departure. It would take a lot of grooming to get the mud out of his fur....

When they finally escaped-- still much earlier than the rest of the Hunt, despite the time it took to get Autaru clean!-- Ranshee was on the back of Broken Rage, Autaru astride Azeron in a strange, furry, two-legged form-- Azeron, who still managed to dwarf even the massive orange and black-- and Jauoteth clinging to Broken Rage's belly, as he had no teleportation skills of his own. Ranshee refused to leave him behind, however, despite his own reluctance. This was for his own good!

Evraia was waiting for them, a red stain in the snow, standing on the ledge of the now-several sets of empty rooms the pack had claimed. Kyverh actually fluttered up to meet them as soon as they appeared in the sky above the Aerd, displacing air with no sound that could be heard above the ever-raging storm. The prey-sized Nuisance was very nearly buffeted out of the sky when Jauoteth dropped from Broken Rage's belly and took wing, himself, darting down to land first-- insistant on getting as far away from the "demon" Azeron as his Pack Leader would permit. Kyverh went tumbling, at the mercy of the wing, until Broken Rage caught him with her mind and Autaru plucked him into his arms protectively. Ranshee was pleased; already, two of her new Packmates were working for the good of them all, and now Kyverh would perhaps not be in as much danger.

::Welcome back, Pack Leader,:: Evraia's voice purred in her mind. Already, with so many members to keep track of, Ranshee instinctively started paying closer attention to defining characteristics: Evraia was red and gold, and silky like the algae that slid beneath one's paws on wet stone.

::We come with more Pack!:: Azeron's mind, strong and steady and uniformly bronze, echoed the wordless bellow that was his answer to Evraia's shrill, equally wordless call of greeting. The telepathic words had been for Ranshee alone.

Yet Broken Rage heard them. ::There is more?:: she asked her mounted Leader-- orange and black and unwavering-- who answered with an image and a name: Evraia. A name overlaid with memories and mental impressions. Broken Rage knew instantly about the bickering, the charisma, the lack of trust and yet the willing submission. Ranshee sensed troubled thoughts, but could not decipher them, so she didn't bother paying them any attention. Instead, she added her mental impressions of Kyverh, which washed away the discomfort with amusement. ::I like him.:: Ranshee agreed.

Azeron and Broken Rage, and their burdens, finally circled low enough to land, Azeron landing at a run because his bulk prevented a smoother landing, and Broken Rage with a sharp backwing that Ranshee somehow managed to hold on for. Straps, she thought sharply, remembering the ones Nocol would wear for Noiku. She would have to get straps, if she were to fly with her Pack.

::Who are thesssssse?::

Evraia's voice even hissed in her mind as she glared at Broken Rage-- who only glared back, wings flaring with threat.

"Silence!" Ranshee barked, leaping from her mount's back. "No fight-- not now. Later," she added with a feral grin, knowing that Pack politics were soon to change, and anticipating the posturing and playing that would ensue once she allowed it. There was, however, the proper time and place for status battles and snarls-- and now was not it, for now was a time to celebrate. She, Azeron, and Evraia had collected meat for the feast to welcome new Packmates. Evraia even roasting some of it just in case others, like herself, preferred charred meat.

"Now," Ranshee declared, leading her Pack, new and old, inside to where the feast awaited, "rest and eat! We are Pack!"

For now, an unspoken thought rippled, from one or all... but certainly not from Ranshee.

Chapter Nine

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