As the sun set, the younger Garou gathered the dry timber they would need for a bonfire. The
elders sat together beneath the trees, softly discussing the evening's plans. Three of the tribes would be putting young ones through their rites of
passage at tonight's moot. The moot had been called, not only to celebrate the young ones' occasion, but to draw the tribes closer together. The elders
knew the dangers of dissension and tribal rivalry, and hoped that this night would put the other Garou at ease. They did not wish to give the Wyrm yet
another foothold in the Wyld. It was a difficult task. The tribes, and the individual packs, had many differences, yet the elders held tightly to their
hopes. Only as one could the Garou prevail...