Prologue.
White and red, grey, white, and red. That’s all that sheath`claws had seen among his peers and packmates, another war...as usual. Another war that had started over the lack of prey around the cold, scarce island. At this point, these wars were practically normal, however, sheath`claw was starving, his dark brown pelt seeming to almost stick to his ribs, his breath hanging gently in the air as a gentle cloud. Leaves were crunching beneath his paws as he ran to his opponents to protect his clan, and to ensure he would be able to eat SOMETHING for once, to at least be able to not feel his stomach gnawing at his flesh for one night, to at the very least get some energy back as sheath`claws would hope. However, his hope would go unknown as he heard a harsh bark from across the cold swamp, having only just started to frost for the late autumn season “SHEATH`CLAWS, HARLOT`SCARE GOT HER PAW RIPPED OFF, TAKE HER BACK TO CAMP!” As sheath`claws slowly picked up his bleeding packmate, he’d limp and trudge among the sludge in the green, swamped forest as he had dragged harlot`scare to camp, nothing much..just another day, just another war, just another loss.