Hundred and Fourteen

THIRD PERSON’S POV

The three wolves were on a rampage through the forest, tearing away any stem or thorn that comes there way. Their feet were in sync to the rhyme of their heart, pounding heavily on the ground at the same time on the walls of their hairy chest.

The light silver wolf was in front, his head facing forward with full concentration and purpose. He had no desire to turn back, no never! He had no intention of running away, he had no intention of retreating from the enemies like a coward, he would rather fight till his last breath than allow that thought pass through his mind.

But the rouges were wining, they were overpowering them by number, and despite the fact that he could endure anything, one thing he can never stand to watch is the dead of his brothers. That alone would kill him, he never want to fail them, even after his death and the only way to not achieve that was to run, retreat away from their enemies like cowards.

He cursed the day he met Micheal, if not for hi