<1>

	"Mother, you can't be serious!  Two whole months?!"

	The slate-furred worgen growled under her breath as she dismounted from her horse.  "This is exactly why I didn't tell you beforehand.  I knew you would push back."

	"And why shouldn't I!?" the younger female worgen pressed, though she, too, dismounted.  "I mean, I haven't seen grandpa in years, but shoving me out in the middle of the woods for two whole months with him!?  I'm a grown woman, I can do what I want!  I don't have to take this from you, [i]Dorothea[/i]!"

	"Starla, enough!" Dorothea snapped and whirled around to regard her leather-clad daughter, intense anger in her eye from the disrespectful use of her given name.  The curvy rogue shrank ever-so-slightly from her mother's towering form, though she did not step back.  "You know well enough that there's no choice in the matter.  You've shown me that you have no control over this damned curse, and until you get some, you will [i]not[/i] be joining SI:7's ranks, I assure you."

	Starla's ears lost a bit of their perk at this, her bluster sucked out of her.  "It was [i]one[/i] boy, I swear!"

	Her mother snorted.  "That's one too many."  Silence settled between the pair as they headed off into the dark woods at a fast pace.  Starla's steps were significantly less enthusiastic, but she complied without further fuss.  Her mother wasn't exactly wrong, she couldn't deny.  Starla was a unique case, in that she was born with the mitigated curse from two afflicted parents.  Her childhood proved a mix of human schooling and wolf-like tendencies, with the result being she had difficulty... controlling the feral call around civilized people.  The path was mostly overgrown that the couple took, though eventually it led them before a small cottage in the middle of a clearing of trees.  The overgrown woods kept most sunlight from reaching the clearing floor, and a few torches appeared to remain perpetually lit to grant the wooden hut some semblance of light.  The elder worgen wasted no time in striding up to the door and pounding on it thrice with a furred fist.  "Open up, old man!  I know you're expecting us!"

	A few moments of silence ensued before a lock clicked behind it, and the door swung open wide to reveal a towering, silver-furred, worgen male.  His head nearly brushed the top of the doorway, while the light within the hut cast a dark shadow over most of his hulking form.  Toned muscles were more than apparent over his otherwise-bare arms and chest, while a pair of torn-up trousers gave him a semblance of bedraggled modesty.  A single glowing, green eye peered just slightly down at Starla's mother, while the left had a jet black patch strapped over it.  "Dora," was all he said with a quiet rumble.

	"Carson," she rumbled back and beckoned Starla to step forward.  "I almost can't believe I'm doing this."

	Carson spat on the ground and glanced between his daughter and granddaughter.  "Never thought I'd see you at my doorstep again.  Desperate?"

	Dorothea's ears flattened at the observation.  "She needs to learn restraint, badly, and I'm at my wit's end with her.  So yes, call it desperation if you must."

	Starla looked to her mother incredulously.  "Mother, come now!  Don't roll over like some... bitch!"

	A sudden flash of severe anger crossed Dorothea's gaze as her head snapped to her daughter, but just as quickly a wave of exhaustion washed it away.  "Ugh... I fully expect her to have some respect for her elders by the end of the summer, or I [i]will[/i] blame you, old man."

	Carson sniffed sharply, but seemed hardly perturbed at her own lack of respect.  "She'll be in good hands.  You know me better than to think she won't be."

	"Bullshit."  Deep sadness in Dorothea's eyes deepened for a few moments as she looked to her own father, then merely sighed as she turned her back on them both.  "Whatever... just... do what you must.  You know when I will be back."  Without another word, the tall worgeness strode back into the forest and out of sight, leaving grandfather and granddaughter alone in the doorway of his modest hut.

	The male worsen let out a heavy sigh as he turned his one eye toward his granddaughter.  "Come.  Sit," he rumbled in a surprisingly gentle tone.

	Starla scrunched up her nose in disgust at the thought of being ordered around like a dog, but nonetheless stepped into the hut past him.  "Is this gonna be a regular thing?  Following orders?"

	Carson didn't flinch.  "I have a very particular way of running my home, and you are not my guest, but my patient, so you're gonna have to do what I say."  His long arm pushed the door shut behind her as Starla walked into a cozy-looking living room.  Two sofas sat opposite each other with a low table between them, and just beyond them stood a wonderfully warm, crackling fireplace.  "So, if it makes you feel better, [i]please[/i] sit."

	Starla scoffed as she flung herself down on one of the sofas and crossed her arms over her bust defiantly.  "This is totally absurd."

	"Yeah, well, there's no going back now.  We're stuck on this one."  The aged worsen lumbered over to the opposite sofa and seated himself comfortably to look Starla in the eye.  "So, no use in wasting time.  Down to business."

	The younger female rolled her eyes.  "And what sort of hoops must I jump through now, [i]master[/i]?"

	The ever-stoic Carson simply said, "Tell me why your mother brought you here.  I know her side, but I want yours as well."