Trouble with a Rougarou, unless you meet them in the light you might not notice what they are – not at first. At most, they might seem a little off. Maybe they are having a bad day or carry a heavy burden - so you give them a pass. Maybe they seem like the stories of the Old Ones. Maybe you just got other things heavy on your mind.
But one day, you gotta take a path late at night, maybe it
is a known path so you hurry, footsteps sure, without a worry. Maybe it is a
new path, winding high into a mountain, so you tread careful – your lamp held high
to guide your way. Doesn’t matter which.
One moment, late at night, you think you hear a cry ahead. A
hurt animal or child? Doesn’t matter whom.
We are wired to stop, to offer care. And for one moment you
forget the teachings to remain vigilant around the Rougarou. Doesn’t matter why.
But you are then transfixed in the glowing grotesque beauty
eyes of temptation. How easy the Rougarou can infect with their endless hungers.
Under dark skies, they catch your eyes, lighting fires for more. Kindling coals
better left to slumber…
It even happened to us. One day we was out wandering.
Following trails. Gathering knowledges. It was a glorious day – the sun strong
and the wind gentle. Caught in the thrill of the moment we stayed out too late
tracking a clever little Thinker that was eluding us. We followed the Thinker
to a river where they hid their scent in the water. The trail was lost. As we
reset our thoughts for the home journey, our heart replaying the thrill of the
chase, we failed to watch for night dangers.
Hearing a cry, we thought the Thinker had stumbled and our
moment of capture was near. So we softened our footfalls and proceeded ever so
slowly. Our ears pricked as we heard a whimpering of pain…a little quicker we
proceeded towards the sound. Around a small bush was an even smaller ball of
fur. We reached out a paw, but the shivering relation curled up even tighter
with a moan. Surely this small hurt creature could pose any danger to a grown
bear we moved our nose closer to smell for the injury. Nostrils flaring, we
took one sniff, two sniffs….. the count fell silent as we tasted our own blood dripping
down our snout. Following the river of
red, the creature across from us licks its lips and we drown in those flame
eyes …
It was many many days later that we awoke to the Grandmothers circled around. I felt my fur for injury to find that our left ear was bandaged. That is the only way eh? To draw out the Rougarou spirit eh? You gotta cut that person’s ear with sharp good metal and then let it heal with the medicines. Well we was real lucky, cause our folks knew just what to do. They knew the plants to gather and where to find them. They knew where and how to make the needed cut. But most of all, they recognized what made those claw marks across our face. They understood right away what the ravings to maximize profits and rants to minimize risk exposures through collateralized debt instruments meant. Just lucky you know. But been hearing more and more stories about how luck can be a fickle friend. Ho.
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