"Patra says his people found something that might belong to one of yours."

The kid slid from the low stone wall, falling into step beside Twillon. The small glamour that rounded Twill's eartips, also hid his sword and gave him the look of a short hairstyle. The jeans and T were his. Keon had advised him it was better to look local, especially if he were going to take daytime patrols. Less need for any major magicks, more concentration on what was going on around him... it seemed to be accurate, except he had somehow missed the kid on the wall.

The kid looked up at him from under shaggy bangs. Twillon gave up trying to figure out if it was male or female. The clothes were no help, nor was the voice. He gave the kid a small grin.

"Patra's people, My people, who are Your people?"

The kid looks around, lowering their voice until nearly a whisper. "I am one of Exton's kids. That's what everyone calls us." Glancing down an alley, the kid motions. "This way. He is bringing the stuff to you. The ones who found it want to meet on neutral ground. Personally, I think they are afraid you will eat them." The kid shrugs. "You don't smell like Ghoul, but then the Brothers don't either, unless you get up close."

Twillon raises a brow. "The brothers?"

The kid laughs. "The Brothers Grim, the morticians... they're good guys, for ghouls. Anyway," The kids suddenly stops and sniffs at Twillon. "Nope... you smell like the fae who lives out at the lake."

A hulking figure steps from the shadows. Twillon's hand slides around the grip of the short sword riding unseen on his hip. The bag he is carrying drops to the ground at his feet. Patra grins, doffing his hat. A small figure shuffles forward, something soft held tight to its spare frame. Only as it approaches Twillon does he realise it is a woman. She offers the clothes, saying nothing. When he doesn't take them at first, she turns and looks at Patra.

"She doesn't speak. Clovis has never spoken as long as I have known her. When she and Maggie brought this to me, Maggie told me what they saw.."

Again, the woman Clovis held out the small pile. Something small and shaggy sat at Patra's feet. His hand stroked its head, and a small sound of pleasure  reached Twillon's ears. He examined the bundle. Jeans, button down shirt, sneakers, underwear, smashed bits of cell phone. The clothes were torn, shredded in places by claws. That alone made him think Shifter's belongings.

The small creature came forward, holding out something that dangled from its hand. He gently took the object, examining the creature as well as what it held. It looked like a young girl, but was covered in silky looking fur. He blinked, looking closer and he saw the anger that crossed her near hidden features. Her voice is strong, words spat at him.

"Get a good look? See the freak? Take the stuff and go home, Mr. Perfect."

She turns on her heel and tugs at Clovis' arm, moving closer to Patra. The kid stares after her, then at Twillon.

"Dude... you pissed her off. If you want her help, you need to show her you are not like her family." When Twillon just looks at him the kid leans close. "Drop your spell. Show her your ears."

Shrugging, Twillon lets the spell dissolve. His eartips lengthened, his hair fell down his back in a long braid. At his hip was a shortsword, his longer blade in a sheath across his back. Clovis tugs at Maggie's arm, pointing at the Sidhe. The woman takes in the changes, then turns on Patra.

"He's one of your world. Isn't he?" Patra nods. "God damned foreigners... Well maybe he can help the kid that wore those. He took off when they tried to force him in a cab. Ain't seen him since."

Twillon picks up the bag and holds it out to Patra. The Troll looks inside and grins. Patra hands the bag to Maggie. She looks in the bag, then turns to look at Twillon. He smiles at her. Monty had put all the leftovers he could scrounge into it.

"Payment for your eyes, the help you give. Enough to share, I hope."

She hands a sandwich to Clovis, The woman stares at it until Maggie nods. Maggie watches her get comfortable on a set of steps, before she turns to stare at Twillon. After a few moments she begins to talk, eyes still locked with the Sidhe. She tells him of watching him stumble from the bar, how something made his face clear, all signs of being drunk disappear. She couldn't see what was going on when he slipped down onto the sidewalk, didn't get it until a fox ran out the other side, narrowly missed being hit by a car. She managed to get a look under the cab, but had to hide when the cabbie came back. When he pulled out, she and Clovis picked up the stuff the kid left behind. Unfortunately, the phone had been run over, but the jewelry was still okay.

Twillon nodded, looking at the charm as it glittered in the sunlight. "I'll take this back to the Tavern, maybe someone will know who it belongs to, and we can find him before he runs into trouble again."

As he turns to go, Maggie calls out after him. "Don't know if this helps, but when we grabbed his stuff, there was a lingering smell of rotting meat. Clovis thinks it was the cabbie and the girlfriend. Says she smelled her when she ran past, trying to catch the fox."

Twillon nods, waving as he pulls his glamour back in place. The kid pulls a plastic bag out of a hidden pocket, handing it to Twillon. The clothes disappear into it, hiding them from sight. The pair stroll back along the street, Twillon lost in thought. The kid touches Twillon's arm and salutes him as he looks.

"I am gone... but here's a thought. There's a fox that runs on patrols. Goes to the local college..." Hopping up on a wall, the kid grins at Twillon. "Friends with the local Alpha's halfbred son. I hear he carries a dolphin with him."

The kid seems to vanish from sight. Twillon waits, listening for any sound. When there is no more, he turns toward the Tavern, steps quickening.

Lost.

The night's darkness has slipped away, leaving limited places for a wild animal to find shelter. Ron squeezes through the broken slats across the doorway of an abandoned building. He curses as the wood catches in his fur. Slipping behind some debris, he watches the room, seeking any sign of movement.

Nothing.

Moving warily into an open area of the floor, Ron stretches. Bones move, joints cracking. The fur recedes as skin stretches to cover his re-organizing form. Stifling back a cry of pain, Ron huddles on the dirty floor until his equilibrium stabilizes. When he can finally stand without shaking, the werefox begins to explore. His head is pounding from lack of sleep, and maybe just a bit too much alcohol.  His stomach growls from lack of food. A fly lands on his bare skin, making him twitch and curse the lack of clothing.

Peering through the slats over the windows, Ron tries to see a street sign. No luck. Frustration eats at him. His steps take him around the room, pacing as he tries to think. His cell phone was in his jeans. Those were left under the cab when he changed. He sighs, realizing he has lost the dolphin necklace as well, his only link with the woman with whom he had wanted to spend the rest of his life. Sinking to the floor, the tears spill over, slipping down his cheeks.

All he had wanted was a night to forget the pain, to be alone and think. Somehow it had been easier when he thought she had run away. Knowing she had died, tortured for some crazy's entertainment... He rubs his hands over his face. Half the time, he wanted to join her. To find her in the Afterlife, and pray they would come back together. Then he ran into the ghouls, or rather, they chose him for their next victim.

He had managed to get away. Was well on his way across town, in fact, when he crossed the path of the pack of strays. If it had been one or two, getting away would have been a piece of cake. But this was five. The smallest one was smaller then he was. Every time he had found a bolthole, the damned animal would ferret him out. They would have had him too, if something hadn't spooked them as he tore down this alley.

Now he was stuck in a catch-22. If he heads out in his fox form, he can't read signs or get directions. or...  he could run into those damned dogs again. If he goes out in his human form, he won't get help either. Being nude might get him arrested, but not taken seriously. His stomach growls again. A mouse scurries along the wall and Ron watches it. His thoughts go into survival mode. He has to make it back to the Tavern, or maybe one of the patrols. They need to know that the Ghouls have found a way to trap victims. That, and that they are taking live prey, not carrion. Watching the mouse forage, Ron lets himself go, making the painful transition to fox. Very shortly, the mouse is no more.

Finding a corner, Ron curls up to get a little sleep. His mind still revolves on how to find his way, how to get back to the people who could help. Ron resolves to find a patrol when the sun goes down. That or a street kid. They'd get him back to Tori. His eyes drift closed as sunlight creeps through the cracks in the boards.

Pandora had the uncanny feeling that the baby was much closer to birth than most people were calculating; she wandered over to chat with Rowan..."Rowan, the babe; he is really restless.. and I feel he is dropping a lot, could he come sooner than we thought.?"

Pandora was seeing the auras growing brighter around people as the eclipse grew closer; she was sharing Rowan's sense of unease; and it seemed that her mind was being probed incessantly by her son... was he trying to tell her he was coming? Pandora searched the room and found Ob talking with some of the musicians... and wandered his direction.

"I need to talk with you, it need only take a moment." Ob laughed and said.."Bruha; my attention is yours my love." Pandora smiled up at him and said.."Have you given any thought to our son's name??... I think he may be here earlier than you think." Ob's surprise at her question was evident, and he stuttered to say... "I'll start thinking Pandora; have you any ideas?" Pandora looked adoringly into his eyes and said..."I want him to have a name from your home... your people... he will carry your seed on; it should be a name of the desert."... Ob looked into Pandora's eyes and drew her close to him; his hands twined in her hair as his heart swelled with love for her and their children.

Jeb watched Roxi as she swayed to the music, graceful in her every movement. He never thought he would be attracted to another woman like he'd been to Acasha; but Roxi was a mix of sass and gentleness that was intriguing the hell out of him... in fact; at his next break he had decided he would take her out for a breath of fresh air and maybe make his move... he had watched her wet those delectable lips one too many times tonight, he wanted a taste of her sweetness.

The hour was slowing to where more patrons were leaving than coming; so he thought it a good time for a breather, nodding to Monty he walked to Roxi... "hey pretty lady, want to catch a breath of fresh air with me?" Roxi smiled and he slipped an arm around her waist as he guided her out the door... unaware that his touch had sent her heart racing.

Jeb lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply; it was a pleasant night, the moon full enough already to fill the night with its glow. Roxi shivered a little, and Jeb gathered her close against his chest as he smoked... a moment of companionship that needed no words. He felt Roxi relax against him and she sighed contentedly. Jeb dropped the remains of his smoke and ground out the butt... he slipped a hand in his pocket and touched a drop of breath freshener to his tongue... he couldn't
give up his smokes, but he never offended the patrons with smokers breath.

Roxi shifted to look up at him and said..."Its nice out here,I feel alive when I'm out in the night."

Jeb nodded; "Yeah, think its our heritage, the animal at home in the darkness."

Jeb reached down and took her chin in his fingers and lifted it up... looking into her eyes he bent and kissed her; soft at first... then with more pressure as he felt her respond, her lips parting... her sigh as he slid his tongue along her lips... her moan as he plunged into her mouth and she caught his tongue between her teeth... releasing it as her own tongue snaked out to meet his.

Jeb let his hands drift down to her hips; gripping them as he drew her against him...Roxi lost her train of thought for a moment as her loins ground against Jeb, his manhood already pressing against her in response to the kiss... she was lost; her hands drifted up to tangle in his hair.

Jeb surprisingly was the one to break the kiss... he didn't want to scare her off; she was beginning to mean too much to him. "Uhh, guess you have a clue how I feel about you; would you be interested in dating an old fool like me?"

Roxi smiled shyly..."I'm as much to blame, I wanted you to kiss me... and thirty isn't so old... its the melding of the minds as well as bodies that makes a couple right for each other, and that is timeless and meant to be."

Jeb laughed; "Don't go getting philosophical on me...I like my women easy to read."

Roxi laughed with him and he put his arm around her as they stepped back into the tavern ... Jeb mused to himself; "We've got lots of time; I'm taking this slow and easy."

Roxi surprised him when she whispered... "I want it that way too."

Roxi was sitting on a stool not far from the front door... a separate spot Jeb had set up for her so they could talk when he was not busy. They had put aside their "date" in the woods for now; waiting until some issues were resolved about who and what caused the attack in the forest involving Star's family.

The time had been good for them, Jeb had taken Roxi around town to pick up things to make her apartment homey and they had talked a lot; she was surprised how at home she was with Jeb and the others she worked with. They were fast becoming family... and perhaps more in the case of Jeb; she could no longer deny that when he dropped his arm around her shoulder she felt a jolt of electricity that made her loins clench. Tonight there seemed to be something different to the feel of the place; an aura of suspense??... she knew there was an eclipse coming; Jeb had told her that she would see him in all his inglorious bestial splendor then... he could not hold back the beast on such an occasion, and wanted her to know she might be drawn to shift herself... and it was okay to do it here. The tavern was prepping for a night to howl...

The musicians were changing for yet another surprising round of instrumental and vocal bliss... Roxi didn't know when she had been so enthralled by the power of music; this was truly a magical place... this humble tavern full of friends and companions.

The bar is busy, and across town, not where Marc or the others would think to look for him. Running a hand through his shaggy red hair, Ron sighs and downs half his beer. His thoughts are lost on the one girl he thought would be his mate. A dolphin dangles from the chain in his fingertips, flashing in the light from the neon signs. His bleary eyes focus on the dangling charm. It sways hypnotically and he sighs, glad tonight's patrol is over, and there are no classes to worry about in the morning.

A brunette slides into the seat across from his. Her voice is soft, sensual. She flirts outrageously and it takes Ron a few moments to realize she is trying to pick him up. He tells her that he really isn't interested, but she persists, telling him he shouldn't drink alone. He apologizes, rising and half stumbling as he heads for the door.

She is right there at his elbow. Helping him stand upright, offering to get him a cab. A man offers to help and she tells him they are together, that it is okay. She gets Ron to lean on her, taking his weight more easily than one would think. He sniffs, her scent jogging something in his mind, shaking off some of the alcohol haze. A cab pulls up, the driver getting out to open the passenger side back door. Ron gags, bending over to try to stop heaving. He tries to breathe, but the smell of old blood and bleach makes his stomach roll again.

She is speaking again, telling him that she will take him home, help him feel better. Just get in, I'll take care of you. He rises, a hand on the door. He breathes again, trying to get a sense of things, trying to shake the cobwebs from his brain. There it is again, old blood... very old blood. The scent of bleach is almost as old. If he weren't a shifter, he probably wouldn't smell it.

A dry musty smell washes over him as the cabbie moves behind him. The man reaches out to grab his arm and Ron drops, going limp as if he passed out. Hitting the ground, Ron slithers under the cab and lets his terror rush the change. Moments later a red fox darts out the other side and under an oncoming car.

His only thought was to get to the Tavern. If he lucked into a patrol, even better. Ducking into an alley, Ron wriggled under a trash bin to catch his breath. His ears catch the sound of shuffling feet. Ron stills, listening closely. Her voice drifts as she talks to someone else. Ron stares at the darkness beyond his hiding spot.

"He's not here. I can't smell him."

The man passes within feet of Ron and the werefox holds his breath.

"Forget it. No one will believe anything he says. He is wasted. They'll put it down to hallucinations. Keep the cab on the corner. We'll either pick up a stranded barfly or a couple bar hopping. We won't go hungry tonight. Let's get out of here."

Ron huddles under the bin, trying to gauge the time. His clothes were left behind when he changed under the cab. By now they were gone, same with the dolphin. Sneaking out from under the bin, Ron works his way to the end of the alley. The cab is gone. Which means they got someone or moved on. He darts to the alley next to the bar, nose twitching as he seeks out musty odors. None...

Ears perked, tail low, Ron hightails it for the Tavern.

Byte has done exactly what he said. He spread the word. Musicians from all over Exton have arrived at the Tavern. A man arrives at the door, his words heavily accented. When Jeb cannot understand him, the man opens a case, revealing a violin. He tucks it under his chin and begins to play.

The music is lively, a wild run of notes that brings to mind the folk music of Russia. The man on the bongos changes his beat slightly, adapting to the merry tune. Jeb lets the man by as Monty pulls up a stool for the newcomer. Ike catches a whiff of his scent. Human, full human... and not even phased by those who let their Otherness show.

The sound of bagpipes joins in. Torrent is seated on the corner of the stage, where he wasn't mere moments before. Nimble brown fingers flying along the chanter. His eyes are sparkling, something that has been missing since Grace passed over.

The vocalist from earlier slides onto a stool at the bar. Another full human... The girl leans back, listening to the music. Ike smiles as she collects a kiss from Monty. The girl watches, a shaped brow rising as she notes the rosebud that magically appears between his fingers. He strokes the soft petals along Ike's cheek and smiles again, kissing her gently. The woman turns her eyes to the patrons of the bar, clearly enjoying being right where she is.