Several years after the collapse of Mt. Shiveer, a curious clan of Arctic Wolves decide to explore the ruins. A discovery hidden in the rubble highlights the past of the brave Alphas and "beta" stage creatures- ones that helped to create the world itself and have long since perished. Each and every wolf finds themselves questioning their lives and blaming each other of the worst treason. Will they make it out alive or destroy each other first?
He was short, stout, and clearly had never had much social interaction in the past. Each and every single one of his snarky comments triggered whispers through the group and clear avoidance of him in general. They all questioned why Admiral was in the Permafrost clan, but the dark grey wolf was the only one who knew for sure- he was forced. Having been with a member of the clan since he was only five, Admiral was young and vulnerable. Joining a clan, for most, was a very important part of one's life that stuck with them for the remainder of it. Your clan members were your new family, and joining a different clan was punishable by death. However, Admiral valued them no more than his waste, which was why he had his shriveled heart set on leaving.
The task was a daunting one- despite the others' dislike for the old wolf, they all cared enough to keep watch on him. Clan members were often like vultures and rarely to naught let eachother out of their sight. So when Admiral packed away most of his things in a small bag, he was to be sure no one else was watching. The gems went first into a small sack, which he tied shut and wrapped on his left leg. Then, the four clear diamonds were dumped into a brown stained box and set aside.
"Bloody hell..." Admiral scoffed, shaking out his legs. After trying to keep the box tied up to his waist for nearly five minutes, he gave up and let it tumble to the floor, almost cracking on the hard stone ground. He gently placed it aside and lifted up a large backpack, shoving most of his items in it. These included a dark black worn blanket, a large, rhino-horned helmet, four stout bracelets covered in Gaelic print, and a glass bottle filled with Wildfire. He slipped this over his shoulders and grabbed his final (and prized) item, a black crossbow. The bolts from this were held across his shoulder in the opposite direction- there was no point in having a crossbow without any bolts.
Upon a snowbank sat Queen, seemingly harsh and strict, but the young wolf held a warm spot in her heart. She pulled up her hind legs to sit more straight, and then closed her eyes to begin to meditate.
The Permafrost clan had laid claim to a deep cave just under some fallen rocks, and it was rare for them to be void of snow. Queen, being a bit frail, had taken a liking to wearing thick garments to keep out the cold. Other members of the clan were older and therefore had no problem with the frigid temperatures on top of the rubble of the mountain.
She slowly opened her eyes and stood up to stretch. The wolf gently looked down at the cave beneath her, eyes scanning the numerous icicles littering the top of the cave. She sighed and began the trek down the stout decline, about ready to fall asleep. She entered the cave without a sound, shaking off her long purple fur and rested gently by the fire still blazing in the corner.
Quickly, Queen had taken some chunks of raw tilapia and placed them on a metal bowl dangling carefully over the little inferno. The tender meat cooked fast and there was little to no need for it to be prodded. She took each piece into her mouth and began to chew away. The fisher (and designated cook) of the clan, Queen was given first pick to anything she decided to bring back. It was gone fast, and thus the purple wolf nestled herself in a corner of the hollow, seeking warmth in the closed space. She drifted off quickly.
Queen awoke with a start as loud, crumbling sounds reached her ears. They perked and she howled loudly, signaling to the other clan members that something was happening.