I really like to howl. At the moon, at my pack, at the sept. If it weren't for the litany I would walk the street in wolf form which is so much better and howl at weird smelling two leggers. They would end up with more than one story to tell about the big bad wolf.
Sometimes we howl with purpose as well. We howl for the spirits, letting them join with us. Owl is the first though I am sure Stag would have chosen us easily. Colin told me he was the tribe's totem. Dressed as a bird, something I would catch and eat if it wasn't fast enough was odd enough. But then mimic its voice, that was crazy. Howled and screeched, Owl came. He flew into me and I feel its power; so much so I not have spirit wings. I'll still walk.
Why would anyone have a room dedicated to marking if you aren't allowed to mark in it? A spirit owl flying into me, I can understand that. Put on more clothes to look "proper" is another thing that two leggers do that is just plain weird.
Don't sniff the air all the time Derry. Don't growl at small animals, Derry. Don't shift and chase the squirrels through the suburbs, Derry. Don't drop your shorts to present to a woman in heat, Derry. So many wierd rules.