Precarious Situation

Tyrande nods, pacing faster, as if she was getting closer to something. "Yes, yes! Exactly! Next, next. We need you to... Yes! You need to send a gift! A gift specifically for her, and then make an oath to the pack! A blood oath!" she rushed over and picked up a large stick. The stick was sharp enough to cut through skin, if applied with pressure.

"This is an ancient tradition of my religion, Macawi." Tyrande calmed herself and looked at the coy-wolf. "The blood oath is used only when one being pledges themselves to a cause, or to another. They state their name, and then what they shall fight for. And finally, what powers they have within themselves to do so. Observe, for this is a sacred ritual."

With that, the shadow turned her head so that the stick faced her paw. After a moments hesitation, she quickly lowered her head, stabbing herself and causing a spurt of blood to surface. With a small hiss of pain, she drop the stick and lifted her injured paw, and recited.

"I, Tyrande Nightshade, on this blood, swear my honor to fight for what I believe in. Honor. Perseverance. Mercy. I swear on this blood that I shall protect these that I believe in with my strengths. I shall run with the speed I am known for. I shall work with the plants I was named after. I, Tyrande Nightshade, on this blood, swears that she will loyally defend the rights I believe in."

She set her paw down. "Of course, it is strange, to inflict pain on yourself. I just suggested it, because it may be the only thing just crazy enough for you to be accepted into the pack, though we could maybe find another way..."