The winds blow against me, and I shall leave you soon. You doubted me when I said that I could foresee the future, but I can, in some vague detail, and I know what is to come. When Luna shines next in her full glory, my end will come. But I cannot yet afford to walk the Path, and so you must live for me in my place.

Firstly, I charge you and Jan-yuf with the search of my successor. In every Cliath I engaged as a pupil, I hoped to find a protege. My disease would overtake me, I knew for some time, and so I sought an Adren who would hold my torch when I fell. I never found one to replace me. They were all virtuous in some respects, but ultimately, each was a disappointment. None possessed the combination of talents to become the leader I had hoped. Only Howls remains, and he must be trained to attain his prophesied grandeur. Promise me that; even if the Coup d'Ombre falters or breaks apart, promise me that the Howler will be safe.

Similarly, please take care of Kleo. She is very much a lone wolf and self-sufficient, but please nevertheless watch after her when she does appear.

Build the Caern. The Ghostwoods is all that I have to give. It is my legacy. Finish the work I cannot; revive what we have lost as a Nation. Show that the glory days of the Garou septs are not yet gone. Do not lose the Caern, Tasha-rhya.

I have also drawn out a crude map detailing the way to my lair. Do not stray from the path I have drawn for you. I have sketched the approximate locations of the mantraps that defend my own little den, and I advise that you avoid them with care. The entryway is sunken under the roots of an old tree in the midst of the brambles. A practiced leap from the leaning willow will land you there. Here I keep an armoury of all those treasures I have accumulated in life but have not yet given up. Among them are Klaives and assorted fetishes. Distribute them with a watchful eye for the deserving. Remember, the sacred weapons were meant to arm the young, not to rust in the den of a dead wolf. Use these things of mine to drive back the Wyrm.

And above all else, recall the reasons for which we founded this sept. The Den is divided and our enemies threaten to overwhelm us. The White Equinox is the defense I have mounted in the name of all Grandmother's forms. When adversity menaces you, remember what unites you, and what your ultimate mission is. Not the Caern nor the name of the sept makes any of us holier than the rest. The White Equinox serves Unchi first and foremost, and that entails serving her minions, too.

Lastly, if ever you should find the manitou once called Malice, bind him to your service. I shall fulfill my duty even in death. Search him out. That will be my final gift to you.

I trust the White Equinox in the care of you, Tasha-rhya and you, Jan-yuf, my Council of Elders. Remind the others that such is my will, and they will obey. But you are nevertheless only Heyoka and Angalkuq, respectively. Find me a new Warder and fill the third seat. Wisdom needs an arm to defend itself.

Now, I suppose, you desire to know what taint befell your ogimauh? Then I shall at last inform you. My life has been measured out in the years of my wolven Kin, and I have lived an altogether short existence. This winter summoned me to the grave, but I baulked and refused to walk the Path of Souls. I was not ready. I am not, still. The Dreadslay lives, the Den is wholely in disorder, and I have not finished my work. So I sought out the Gangrel, Sonja Blade. She fed me her blood to sustain me. You will discover phials of her vitae among my effects, and these you must destroy. Do not be tempted by the powers of the vampire, for the price is terrible. This, I know.

I served my penance to the best I could, and I have tried to repay the balance I owe for my sins.

Farewell, Tasha-rhya, and good hunting.