The Legend Of Two Silver Paws
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SilverPaw followed and crushed the rose in his hand. “Guess we’ll see each other in generations to come, huh?” and with that, they shifted into their wolf forms and ran into the night, leaving the other three.
“How will we know who’s a descendant from them?” BrownClaw asked.
“They’ll have black or silver coats, or even a mix of both. But the obvious sign is easy,” WhiteSoul began. “They’ll have a silver paw on the left front leg.”
They killed them.
Every black and silver coated one of them.
But none had a silver paw.
Except for two, whom were nothing like their descendants. But when something rises from its thousand year slumber, everything they have ever known will be tested to the limit. And it all leads to the answers they've been questioning for so long, but also something else:
War.
Against the ones they love.
And against themselves.
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