There were two clans that led this land... The Gold and Silver.
Mostly everyone aspired to be part of the Gold Clan, their noble deeds ringing in a crystal-clear note though the forest. Children grew up with tales of their successes and later joined their ranks to create more stories. Teens fought bravely against rogue packs, formed from those that have been exiled for various reasons. Adults lived long lives until their hairs turned gray from age and died peacefully next to a warm, burning fire.
But some individuals chose the other path.
In a barren, icy wilderness, fewer men and women thrived. The Silver Clan raised the wilder ones whose minds were sharper and hearts were colder. No one was exiled. They were either executed or punished severely. Food was little, yet the warriors were somehow stronger.
The only answer was magic.
In the forest, nature's concoction was a gentle one, the power being used for good. Pushing life into plants, healing wounds, and boosting education.
In the arctic, magic was used for strength, greed, power, and punishment.
So why would I choose the Gold Clan, for pure hearts only?
Wide, innocent, unsuspecting eyes...
My cold, sharp ones didn't fit in the least.
Simple. It was because I was spying on them. Not for the Silver Clan, of course. For a new clan... An unknown one...
The Onyx Clan.
