text: A rugged man marches through a dark, foggy, forest evening in spring. About 4’9”, covered in scars, with an assortment of weapons carried on his back. He scratches his chin, disturbing his beard, long and velvet red, tied in a braid. The black markings on his forehead represent respect, honour, dignity and strength. A sign to the rest of his tribe and his enemies alike of just who exactly he is. He marches, anger in his eyes, determined. Killer intent in his eyes, eyes that have seen hurt, pain, regret, and love. It was a bit hard, with all the heavy metal plating on his body, but it would be well worth it. He must make it deeper into the forest. There is going to be a great battle there. A battle that will determine not only the fate of this mans home, but possibly, the fate of the entire nation. But where? Where is the rest of them? His troops? Surely, he cannot be alone in a battle as great as this, can he? \* AWOOOOOOOOOO \* He pauses, just for a minute. A dog-like silhouette can be seen in the distance, just 10 meters away. You can hear the footsteps of the shadow in the distance. The foot steps grow in volume, yet, the shadow seems too far away for it to be this loud. Wait... it’s not alone. The warrior turns his head slightly, just to see at least three more figures. He turns is head the other way... five? No, seven! Suddenly, he was surrounded by dozens and dozens of these creatures, almost hundreds! Snarling and barking ensues. He was completely surrounded by wolves, just yapping at him, and occasionally, each other. They were getting closer, and if you were there, you could swear you feel there warm breath, as if they were only 3 inches from tearing off that noes of yours. They were getting ready to attack. What does our warrior do? Nothing. He just waits. But... for what? \* RARF, ARF! \* Suddenly, they backed off, but only just a bit. Two wolves, noticeably bigger than the rest, step up from the crowd, they MUST be the alphas. One black, one white, they commanded the rest of the pack. The black one had stopped, while the white had continued walking towards the scarred man. She barked at him once, commandingly, with a muzzle that was just as scarred as the man was. “... Ah, Shut up, ya cow! I raised WOLVES, not wee muffies! If yer gonna threaten me, do it properly, Mia...” The ragged man joked, in his very thick Scottish accent. There was a very distinguishable scent to this man, and the wolves knew it well. They had recognized him as the alpha of the pack. She jumped on him to show affection, soon followed by the black male. “Oof! William, ya fat oaf! Warn me next time before ya do that, haha!” They were really happy to see the alpha who had saved them as puppies from a hunter. Those humans will pay for what they did to the rest of their pack, only tens strong then. Fortunately, they both had the same enemies. The clan that the warrior needed to battle, was the same group of humans that had almost killed the Yin-Yang Dogs. That pack owes everything to that man, and on more than one occasion, wolf and warrior have fought side by side. They knew who he was, and had a pretty good idea as to why he was here. “Aright, then. Follow. We’re hunting, tonight, boys.” The wolves understood immediately what he meant by that. They were going to fight someone, and they needed all the support they could get. The wolves walked with him, beside him, in front, behind, everywhere. The white stayed to his right, the black to his left. A soldier shouldn’t go into battle alone. Not in a battle as big as this, anyway. The man howled, and his army howled with him, filling the forest with a cry of menace. Never underestimate the wolf...