The role of spirit-mediator normally falls to a pack's theurge, not its ragabash, but Clay's theurge is…not always available. You will have to suffice. You are no scholar of the rites and ways, but you've seen what flawless recitals have offered Clay's pack: silence from the spirit world. Instead of perfect form and millennia-old words, you whisper your sincere thanks to the spirits for this victory, and promise more victories to come against the Wyrm and its servants. That same silence answers you, but you feel better.
Then you hear bitter, howling laughter carried on the ice wind. Not the spirits of this place: Clay's theurge. She squats atop a tree stump, a huge black wolf with corpse-blue eyes.
"Would you take my place, little usurper?" she whispers.
Clay moves in the shadows behind her, a looming and monstrous shape, over ten feet high. But where is the third of their company? Where is Scarper?