Sweeping branches of evergreen pines form a sort of natural roof overshadowing most of this clearing. In the center is a fire pit with several old logs polished from use for seats. A separate stack of firewood is discreetly piled up at the base of an old spruce, protected from the damp by a tarp. At the edge of the clearing and extending back a bit into the woods resides a rough wooden structure with a slate tile roof. A stone slab rests off to one side of the clearing in a place of some prominence. Nestled in among the pines are a few hardy perennials--red alder, quaking aspen, and a big leaf maple or two--that, come spring, will create a profusion of color in the clearing.
A faint trail leads off to the east, and a bit north.
Compact is the word for him: wiry, maybe 5'6" in his beat-up black combat boots, with a sense of compressed energy and imminence like a coiled spring -- or a cocked gun. Never quite still for long, balance flowing through the balls of his feet. There's a striking intensity to his narrow blue-green eyes, the colour contrasting with his fair skin and spiky copper hair; just below the left is what at first appears to be a faint mole, but closer inspection reveals as a small, long-healed scar. His features are appealing, with high cheekbones and a good jawline, but it's the confident mien and roguish smile that most often seem to draw people in.
He's in a well-worn biker jacket of the traditional sort, all fairly closely fit black leather and silvery zippers and snaps. Beneath it, he's got nicely-fitting dark indigo jeans with a plain white tank, its ribbed cotton skimming close enough to hint at the musculature beneath. Over that, he's wearing a long-sleeved, navy blue shirt, unbuttoned; judging by the white-on-red number patches on the left arm, the flag patch on the right shoulder, and the round fleur-de-lis patch to the left of the collar, it was once part of someone's Scout uniform... probably not his. Okay, the 'Boy Scouts of the USA' patch over the right pocket's a hint, too. There's a couple leather-and-bead bracelets on one wrist and a length of ball-chain disappearing beneath his collar; his nails were apparently painted black some time ago, since they're starting to show chips. Late teens, most likely, and when he speaks it's in a mellifluous, southern-accented baritone voice.
Thick honey-blonde hair, styled in a poofy set of curls, rings this pretty blue-eyed young woman's head. She's in her late teens, and her hair's currently left down, though it's occasionally pinned up. She stands about five and a half feet tall, and is a little on the thin side of things, though not to an extreme. She dresses mostly in informal styles, from ripped jeans and tank tops to the occasional sundress.
Currently, she wears the former, her black tank top emblazoned with a large sequined red heart, and her jeans so ripped as to be nearly indecent. About half of the heart's sequins are missing. Her feet are clad in red strappy lightly-heeled sandals that have seen better days. She wears little in the way of jewelry, just a black wooden bracelet, a stainless steel and rhinestone mood ring, and (probably fake) gold earrings. When she speaks, a fairly thick Southern accent is evident.
This is a North American cougar (Puma concolor couguar), which is not an uncommon animal in Washington State, although they are rarely seen by humans. Typical of the species, it has a slender, muscled body with a round head and pointed ears. Like most cougars, this particular specimen is substantially longer, taller, and heavier than the average wolf. He likely tips the scales at about 160lbs and measures nearly 8' from nose to tail: Much of that is certainly tail. This cougar's pelt is slightly more reddish-orange than usual, although not unusually so. Lithe, powerful, sinuous musculature is readily visible beneath the cat's short fur, giving some indication as to the power and speed available to this apex predator should it choose to use it. The black "moustache" marking around his nose and mouth is more pronounced than usual, giving the feline's already-handsome face an even more suave--almost debonaire--appearance.
Short and slender, Nieve would appear to be a latina woman in her early thirties. A little paler than most of her cafe-au-lait contemporaries, the structure of her face and her accent both bear out the Mexican blood in her veins. Long black dreadlocks hung with metal charms frame a heart-shaped face, dark and almond-shaped eyes made bolder by the application of thick eyeliner and mascara, the former drawing out to points at her temples. She has a small nose and mouth, both pierced, matched by rows of small rings marching up the outside of each ear. Bodily she is quite petite, though this is hidden in part by loose or bulky clothing, and she seems the sort of girl to always be moving, doing something, fidgeting.
She's wearing fairly generic clothes; rough black jeans held up by a steel-studded belt, a two-size-too-big 'Slashed Rabbit' rock band t-shirt over her torso. Over this is a battered leather jacket, again a size too large and with sleeves that cover her hands. Her feet are shod in beat-up Converse sneakers, the left with a bright pink lace, the right with a day-glow yellow one.
His scars are the most striking thing about this man. A deep scar circumnavigates his head, cutting his visage into parts. His visage is far from flattering even without the scar, featuring an unevenly flattened nose, cauliflowered ears, and monobrow sheltering sunken eyes, and long, greasy hair bound in a tangle of a rat-tail. His hands demonstrate a history rich in manual labor, with stumpy, thick fingers and fingernails broken to the quick. His right arm is a massive length of scar tissue from shoulder to hand, with the weak muscling of a paraplegic, a strong contrast against the bulk and muscling of his body and other arm. The skin of his torso, usually covered up by a shirt but still appearing at his neck, consists of thick, red skin with peeling scales. Not much of the damage is visible as his long-sleeved, plaid shirt is buttoned up to the last button. His jeans are almost fashionable, being shredded through at the knees. He's wearing a black bomber jacket with a patch of a snake hissing on the back.
This short, skinny white kid is only a few inches over five feet tall and looks to be around twelve or thirteen years old. His straight black hair is cut in a basic, functional style that requires little maintenance -- super-short on the back and sides and only slightly longer on top. He's got a thin face with a beaky nose, thick eyebrows, and dark brown eyes. He's not a bad-looking kid, quite the opposite, but there's still something about him that makes most normal people uneasy, a feeling of potential violence, of predatory intensity.
He's typically dressed in jeans and t-shirt and sneakers, typical casual kid-wear, with a grey hooded jacket for outdoors. Apart from the footwear, his clothing is all a little bit too big on him, but one might imagine that he'll grow into it in a year or so.
Thane isn't a man who's appearance stands out much. He's caucasian of skin tone with a faint swarthiness should he stay out in the sun long enough to catch a tan. His bones are pronounced, giving him the appearance of leanness despite having a solid, even musculature that speaks of someone who's gained his athleticism through rounded activity versus focused weight training. His hair is a tawny brown in most lights and usually kept in a short style. Often, there's a good day's growth of beard on his face which seems to hide small nicks and old scars. His eyes are a mid-tone blue, often held under pensive brows.
There is a look to him, the weight of something undefined. It's like looking into the eyes of a man who has seen terrible things and was never quite was the same after. It's even more haunting considering his blind right eye is couched in scars like an attack from a bear.
Usually, he's casually dressed but cleans up when the need calls. He's never seen among the normal public in anything but long sleeves regardless of the weather, underneath showing massive scarring on on his forearms. They don't seem to restrict movement, but the oddly darkened scars are numerous like lightning bolts across his skin. Another deep slice runs at the upper portion of his abdomen.
This barely teenaged kid's first and most noticable feature is his pale, attractive and close to flawless face. He appears blessed with natural good looks and clear skin that do not require much effort to maintain. His eyes are a brilliant mixture of a rich blue and bright green, though they are often downcast and hidden in the shadow of his grey wool cap's brim. From the back of that cap his short-cut hair is dyed in streaks of dark blues and reds.
The kid's neutral expression, prone to a slight scowl that he constantly wears, might look rather unattractive and off-putting on another face; but on this one it just offers an out-of-place regal aire. Standing at around five feet and a half with a bit of a strong but sinewy build, he has some stature for his age but is not imposing. The kid's throat has some long thin scars across it, like he was in some kind of bad accident years before.
He currently also wears old faded blue jeans and a black short-sleeved sweater with thick red stripes from the neck down the tops of the arms. Some brown and dirty white vans, seeming large for the kid's size yet still fitting him well, kick around on his feet. A slightly over-sized dingy brown winter coat is worn over the ensemble. His hands are encased in thick black leather gloves.
Those hands... something is strange about them. It's difficult to be sure with the gloves, but the fingers just seem too long if you look at them for a moment.
Rain yesterday and clouds today have mostly cleared to let the wane glow of the half moon sneak through when the scattered clouds let it. The fire in the compound is burning bright enough to cast the needed light and warmth in the clearing and Thane is present nearby. The sept alpha is waiting with his normal stance which is both patient and largely disinterested seeming, scarred arms crossed over his chest.
There's the sound of movement around the edge of the compound, the purposeful lope of a wolf going somewhere - and given the impending moot, it's not surprising that 'somewhere' is here. Emerging from the treeline comes a wolf shaded in sandy brown and black hues, a far cry from the glossy black or silver or white fur of the more pure-bred tribes, nor quite the more localised timber pelts sported by no few of the Sept. She pauses as she spies Thane here, lifting her muzzle to sniff at the air in his direction, before coming out into the clearing properly and approaching, her body-language a blend of cautious and respectful.
Thane looks to the wolf as she makes her entrance and regards her with a considering, if solitary, eye to take in her appearance. "Can't say you're familiar. Care to introduce yourself?"
Taking a few steps back, the sandy-pelted wolf shifts up into her homid form. From an on-the-small-size sandbag to a similarly petite dreadlocked woman in her thirties, Nieve takes a moment to straighten her hair and make sure her t-shirt is pulled straight before greeting Thane properly. "Hi." A bright smile comes with that. "Nieve Martinez, also called Pirate Trader, Adren Theurge, Glass Walker. Teeeechnically still part of this Sept, sort of." One hand lifts to scratch her cheek. "Though Shockwave was still alpha when I joined. It's a long story, I'll gladly tell it now or later, as needed."
Thane gives a tip of his head once he's listened to Nieve's story and says to the Theurge, "I'd heard in loose passing that a Garou had come back. I'm Thane Armitage, called Consumes The Shadows Of His Enemies, Adren Ahroun of the Shadow Lords. Sept Alpha, Warder, elder of my tribe, and alpha of the war and acting Guardian pack Blitzkrieg under Hummingbird." Odd note to end on but there it is. "Welcome back. At least you seem to be in one piece, which is about as much as you can ask for."
There's a nod from Nieve. "Thank you. I won't take up too much of your time now, since there's a moot about to start, but I figured it'd be polite to come introduce myself, make sure you're down with me kickin' around an' all that."
"Of course." Thane says with a wave of his hand to the surrounding compound. "And thank you for obeying the social niceties. It helps avoid misunderstandings. You're welcome to hang around for the half moon moot if you feel up to it, otherwise there will be our normal one at the full moon and a casual one at the new."
"When I was a cub, those niceties weren't optional," Nieve remarks with a lopsided grin, but she does nod. "Sure, an' thanks. I'll stay, 'cause there's been a loooooot of stuff I need t'catch up on." That done, she turns to find somewhere to park herself, though never quite turns her back on the Alpha. S'not polite, see.
As if on cue, there's the sound of walking nearby, and then voices, or at least one voice. "--tasted pretty good, actually. He said he'd prolly make one of those hats outta the skin. Said he reckons hipsters're pickin' everythin' else up these days, maybe next month they'll be goin' Davy Crockett, what the hell," Felix is saying to Lilah as they approach, one of his hands in hers and the other carrying a paper bag from McDonald's. A bit scrunched, but only at the top. One of his jacket pockets has a soda bottle poking out of it, as well. He glances around as they pass the edge of the clearing, and flashes a grin to the pair assembled, studying the stranger with interest. "Evenin'!"
"That's just good salesmanship, I reckon," Lilah says with a nod to Felix, and smiles over at him. "You think he's right?" She quiets as they reach the clearing, and gives a respectful nod to Thane and the stranger. "Howdy," she greets them aloud.
Oh man. Is that a faint whiff of horribly overprocessed fast food on the air? Nieve turns towards the sound of voices and the elusively faint smell of McD's, flashing Felix and Lilah a cheerful grin and a thumbs-up. "'sup skids. Nieve Martinez, Pirate Trader, Glass Walker Theurge, Adren." Yep, hers is a nice and brief intro. "Now I'm hopin' you bought enough for the whole Sept, or we might have to find a 24hr McD's for the Revel."
Brings-the-Pack appears on one of the evergreen's sturdier limbs up above, apparently having just arrived--or perhaps just emerged from hiding. The cougar settles back onto his haunches upon said tree limb, looking over the proceedings, and offers a simple "Hello" in English, though that spoken English sounds electronically modified to what might come out of Kylo Ren's mask.
Salem slips into the compound without fuss or fanfare, not seeking to draw any particular attention to himself. The young halfmoon's looking broody and solemn and settles down with his back to one of the pines at the edge of the clearing.
"Well, someone got 'em wearin' fedoras. Bet I could talk one into a coonskin cap in under half an hour," Felix answers Lilah, looking as though he may be seriously considering testing that out when he gets a chance. His grin widens a bit at Nieve's, and he stops by her and Thane. "Felix T. Sinclair, Lets-Them-Eat-Cake, Cliath 'Gnawer Galliard, packed with Tactical Frivolity under Coyote, an' at your service," he declares, giving her a cheerfully flamboyant bow, complete with a sweep of the bag-holding arm. "Nice meetin' you. Just arrived? We got a good McDs downtown, in case of emergency. Which there might be, 'cause =this= one's actually reserved. Though you can always try an' talk him outta some." He glances up in startlement at the appearance of the cougar, and gives it a chin-up of greeting before the bag in question gets offered to the Alpha, with the apparent explanation to him of, "Cheeseburger."
"Under fifteen minutes, more-like," Lilah counters, and she smiles right back to him and then Nieve. "Nicetameetcha! Lilah Sinclair, 'Gnawer kin." Short 'n sweet. She, too, seems a little startled by the appearance of the cougar, though she seems unsurprised by its strange 'voice.' The cougar is given a brief wave, and then she watches to see what Thane's reaction to the cheeseburger will be.
'Tis the ides of March, and a brute appears on the border of the Sept Compound, studying those already there as if counting them as friends, Garou, and countrymen, or none of the above. Snakepatcher moves through the trees and sniffs the evergreen that Brings-the-Pack's lounging in, gathering scents and who's last visited the tree. He disappears briefly into the woods and reappears as Reggie, greeting Felix and Lilah with a wave and pausing briefly to consider Nieve.
"Ah, fair enough. First of the kill an' all that," Nieve agrees with a lazy smile to Felix, extending one fist for bumping after he's finished his bow and then offering the same bump to Lilah, before her attention is taken up by the autotuned kitty-cat. "Hey, we found some more care-bear cousins, huh? Karu still around?" she wonders aloud as she considers the cougar, lifting her hand to blow a kiss at the supposed Bastet. Others arriving draw a curious eye though no calls just yet; certainly not Salem, looking -nothing- like he did last time she saw him. Ha.
Thane had been just watching the traffic filter in from where he stands next to the low bonfire, minding his own P's and Q's and letting folks mingle. And then there's Felix and a cheeseburger bag hoisted into line of his vision. "I ate. Thank you. Good to see you survived, Felix. As I haven't had any septs trying to batter down our doors I'd say you avoided anything overly troublesome." Ah and there's mecha-mage-cat who gets a nod of his head. "Nieve, that is Brings-the-Pack. Mage and ally of the sept. Not actually a cat, so he tells us."
Winter comes on into the area with a drink in hand. Said drink is in a coconut with a hole in it and a straw. He stays off to the side, sipping at the bendy straw now and again.
Brings-the-Pack adds to Thane's words. "And Karuvar is indeed still around." It would seem the cougar knows the tiger.
Salem raises eyebrows when his eyes meet Nieve's briefly, though for whatever reason, he doesn't make himself known to her. He seems, in fact, perfectly content to play wallflower for the gathering.
Felix gives Lilah's hand a light squeeze before letting go of it to meet Nieve's fistbump, and then return Reggie's wave, turning the grin on the Ahroun for a moment. He shrugs at the declining of the food. "I was a model of courtesy, politeness, an' restraint," he assures the Shadow Lord, "...'specially restraint. An' thanks." He reclaims Lilah's hand and moves to find a nearby place to sit, giving grins and chin-ups of greeting to the others when he catches sight of them, and notes to Nieve, "...you still want some burger, you may be in luck."
Now -that- gets a brow-raise from Nieve. "Mage an' ally, huh?" It takes a few ticks for her to nod to Thane's explanation, giving that some thought before she looks up at the cat once more. "Well, nice t'meetcha." She grins as she's assured of Karuvar still being around, nodding and tucking that away for future use. Felix draws her attention back, and she considers burger. "Maybe post-moot."
Lilah returns Nieve's fistbump as well, smiling brightly at her. That bright smile turns into a grin as she listens to the exchange between the Alpha and Felix. She chin-ups and also waves to Reggie, seeming overall to be in a fairly friendly state of mind, and then settles into place beside Felix.
"Speaking of Karuvar, I wonder how his new charge is treating him." A smirk touches the Lord's face as he looks to Felix. "You missed Justin having to handle a new Khan claws-first. He called me in an uproar but thankfully we were able to track down where she belonged without anything major. Your packmate is in one piece." And as sept members make themselves known he glances to the moon's position in the sky. "Well, we should begin." Clearing his throat, the Alpha calls, "Sept members of the Triquetral Accord and allies, welcome to the half moon moot. We'll be hearing any news on current challenges to begin. So those who have been challenged, step forward to announce your progress."
Winter may be a little tipsy, perhaps. He is looking over the gathering and chuckling to himself. He steps over to Felix and Lilah and bumps into his shoulder when he arrives. "Evening, kid," offers the rather young Fostern.
Brings-the-Pack cocks his head slightly to one side as Thane shares news about Karuvar's new charge, perhaps news to him or perhaps curious as to how much the garou might already know. Otherwise, he stays quiet so as to not interrupt the event's proceedings.
Salem wrinkles his nose at mention of a new cat-shifter in town. He's clearly less than thrilled.
Felix's browse raise at Thane's tale of Justin and the Tiger. "For real? Shit like that oughta wait until I'm around to see it," he says, shaking his head, "I'll hafta get him to tell me about it later..." Winter's bump and comment gets something of a counterbump, and a soft snort. "I'll take that from folks like Bob, but pretty sure I'm older'n you, man," he replies, and leans slightly to take a better look at this coconut his tribemate's currently drinking. The calling-to-order makes him sit back up and pay attention, though. Proper attention, even.
"How come *we* ain't got a coconut?" Lilah teases Winter and/or Felix, and also leans in a bit to see it. She also quiets as they're called to order, and squeezes Felix's hand lightly. She's quiet, then.
Thane says nothing further as he waits next to the fire for anyone to step up that has business to conclude. He is looking around though with one of those Looks. He knows you're out there, get a move on.
Winter holds out his hand with coconut in palm, over towards Lilah without words in an offer.
Winter clears his throat now and steps forward to the general group. "I suppose I should just go ahead and do this." As the attention turns to him, he can't help but bust out laughing. He soon settles with a few coughs into a curled fist as he calms down. "Sorry, sorry," he offers seemingly rather contrite. He rises to the Crinos and continues with his announcement, ~The once Cliath, Lets-Them-Eat-Cake, has met my terms of challenge to satisfaction. He is now Chugs-The-Mystery-Brew, Fostern of the Bone Gnawers!~ Here Winter melts back down to homid and completes with, "You may offer him whatever random unmarked beverages you have on hand at your leisure. He isn't picky." Here he glances at the coconut he handed Lilah and walks back over to the two of them, chuckling to himself.
Salem grins a little at this news and cups his hands around his mouth to give a brief approximation of a congratulatory howl.
Felix watches Winter as the Ragabash steps forward, and grins more at the beginning of his speech in Mother's Tongue. There's a blink about halfway through, though, and he bursts out laughing for a moment as well. "Well, it's true, I ain't," he allows, "but in my defense it's technically just one detail I was missin'. And also it was awesome." He shrugs, still looking pleased with the world, and reaches over to borrow the coconut from Lilah, lifting it to Winter in a toast. "Thanks," he says, and takes a sip, because some things are just required.
Thane might look surprised but nope, just resigned, like he expected just as much from the Gnawers. "Then congratulations are in order, Fostern." Says the Ahroun to Felix with a dip of his head. "Well done. May the new rank treat you well. There's beer in the fridge at Edgewood, you are free to celebrate as you see fit."
Reggie looks with interest at the announcement, then claps his hands together. "Party at the pool hall!", he announces, "After moot. Drink to Chugs' health!"
Lilah grins broadly at Winter's offer, though she also looks a bit embarrassed. Still, she accepts it, and is apparently not too picky either, as she has a small sip. She blinks twice at the taste, and then nods her approval. She looks up as Winter steps forward and speaks, and she also laughs at the new name, resting her head just briefly on Chugs' shoulder as she squeezes his hand. When he reaches for the coconut, she's happy to pass it over, looking happy for the moment.
Salem's good mood curdles a little at the shortening of Felix's new deedname.
Brings-the-Pack offers congratulations from his elevated perch above once the other garou have shared their celebratory words and howls with Felix. "Congratulations, Felix."
"With Felix's challenge concluded to Winter," Thane calls out from the fireside. "Do we have any other challenges to update or make? Or do anyone present have any grievances or concerns they wish to bring forward?"
"Thanks," Felix says again, to the well-wishes at large, still looking highly pleased with things, including Reggie's declaration, which gets an "I like your plan!" before Thane starts pulling things back on track. The new Fostern settles in, sliding his arm around Lilah and taking another sip of what's in the coconut before he offers it back to her.
"Y'done real good," Lilah murmurs quietly to Felix, giving him a fond smile, and then accepts the coconut again, having the tiniest of tiny sips. She passes it back to Felix with a grin, and then turns her attention back to Thane and the moot at large.
Salem exhales a breath and drags fingers back through his hair, doing his best to shake off the sudden souring of mood. He looks around -- with a brief glance up at the tree the cougar's in -- when Thane's question goes out.
Winter coughs and steps forward once more, raising both his hands in a vague waving fashion to boldly proclaim. His voice now carries a certain gravel beyond his years, like the kid has been smoking since he was 8 years old, "I'd like it to be known that this Sept may have a stick wedged firmly up it's butt and that there might be some side effects including stiffness, difficultly laughing, and some seer-seer dramas. I'd like to just put it out there: If there ain't some changes around here, I'm gonna have to, I dunno... Challenge someone or like, if things get ruuul bad? Declare myself lead Ragabash and put some rubber gloves on for a DIY stickotomy. That is all." He then does a 'turn-the-cup' like British-style wave and steps back towards Felix and Lilah. He actually looks like he might be somewhat embarrased at this point. Hard to say.
Brings-the-Pack considers Winter's words as they're spoken, then stoops forward to give his right forepaw a couple brisk licks. Itchy, perhaps? Could be casting a spell? Who knows.
Going... going... and then Winter talks. Thane just looks at the Gnawer with a particularly critical stare. There's a slow inhale of breath and he actually appears to hold it for the count of ten, or maybe fifteen, before letting it out. A single index finger is held up as he says slowly, "In light of this being a night where the sept could use a celebration as opposed to an ass kicking, I'll let that slide, Winter, and blame it on whatever is in that coconut. If you want to be lead Ragabash there's plenty to keep you occupied. Now, with that being said, barring anyone having further business then you're all dismissed to go drink Reggie's kin out of business. If I catch anyone on the morning news though celebration will revert to ass kicking."
Winter is looking at Thane rather intently as the Alpha speaks. When it appears he isn't about to be eviserated, the challenged Gnawer gives a very grateful sigh. He reaches over and snatches the coconut back and raises in a toast, taking another sip.
Felix clearly stifles an amused look at Winter's announcement, albeit not entirely successfully. At least he still has plenty of excuse to look pleased with things in general, though he does steal a glance toward Thane, as well. Possibly judging how likely it is Lilah needs moving Away, since there's definitely a bit of relaxation when the Alpha doesn't immediately go for Ragabash-throat, and he stays right where he is. Winter gets the coconut easily enough, and the new Fostern gets to his feet, stretching. "I definitely heard somethin' about beer," he says, "Reckon I can squeeze plenty of us in the Caddy if anyone needs a ride."
Lilah mostly looks puzzled at Winter's announcement, eyeing him thoughtfully, albeit with a hint of amusement. Even that hint fades as she catches the way Thane's holding his breath, and shoots a quick glance at Felix before waiting to see what happens. She, too, relaxes when there's no ass-kicking, and when Felix gets to his feet, she follows suit. "I think a beer sounds pretty good. ...I purty much always think that, though." She looks about to see if any of them will be hopping a ride in the Caddy.
Brings-the-Pack excuses himself, even though he wasn't specifically invited. "Enjoy your festivities. I would join you, but large felines tend to draw attention in the city, and I have a task that urgently needs tending to."
Winter looks at the coconut, Felix, and Thane in that order. He then speaks to Felix, "I'll drive!" He grins then adds, "Kidding. Where to, boss?"
"And I can help push people in", Reggie offers, a tad too eagerly with flexing of his arms. "I'll have to perform the unknown Rite of the Post-Challenge, instead of the sacred Rite of the U-haul", he considers, then nods firmly. "And he is not driving", he points at Winter.
"The fuck you will," Felix tells Winter cheerfully, kidding or not, and he lifts a hand toward the cougar before it can Cheshire out of here again, "Later!" Looking back to the others, "She's parked out by Edgewood. So, all aboard who's comin' aboard!" He takes Lilah's hand again and leads the way out the clearing and back toward the city.
Brings-the-Pack disappears into the evergreens.