Wolves fur

"Please, your the one who is no fun." His smirk made Blair flinch from paw to ear tips. Tears bubbling up, Andrew made the face she first fell in love with. The face that was a sorry-now-I-feel-terrible face. But Blair couldn't look at this jerk. "Your lucky your father's dead." He said. Blair wanted to attack him, scratch his face all the way off. She got in her punching position, and beckoned backward. Soon, she was leaping forward and scratched his paw. "That.. w-was nothing." She could tell he was burning. "YOUR LUCKY YOU HAVE A FATHER, MINES DEAD. LUCKY? ME?! ANDREW FITZ I THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN THIS!" I screamed, my guilt was passed onto the side of my head. And anger stopped and became sadness, to shock. Mixed emotions. That's what Runt was telling. That prophecy.

The prophecy that meant death for all..