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Frost and Flame (In Devolpement)

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♦This Story is about Anthropomorphic Wolves. That means animals with Humain traits / abilities, standing on two legs, wearing clothes. ♦I'm at DeviantArt, A Frost-colored wolf dressed in brown tribal loincloth from the waist down strolled across the green plains of the valley. On his shoulder, he carried a pole with fresh fish tied neatly to it. Winterstorm was his name. He lived in a camp with other wolves. Everyone in the tribe was like family to him; he knew each and every one of the wolves. A quiet river ran around the north and south sides of the camp, with a deep blue lake to the west that connected them. This glistening lake provided great amounts of food for the wolves, without them having to travel far from home. His fur ruffled in the wind as he walked across the small wooden bridge, slowly, admiring the land in which he called home. The green grass of the valley always brought happiness to Winterstorm. Upon approaching the wooden fort gate, he was acknowledged by one of the camp lookouts on duty, Boulder. The lookout nodded swiftly at Winterstorm as he passed by. The camp was busy with activity, it was every night. It was close to evening meal time, when the tribe as a whole would gather near the campfire to eat. Winterstorm made his way across the camp to the campfire, and set the pole with fish over it. One of the leaders, Bluehawk, was standing nearby, overseeing the camp. "Well done, Winterstorm," the leader greeted him with pride, "the clan and I are very grateful to have you. Thank you." "You're welcome Bluehawk, but my brother taught me everything", Winterstorm explained, looking shyly down at the fish. "Your brother is a great hunter. I'm glad he's been passing his knowledge on to you. I'm sure you'll be an expert hunter like him soon," the leader praised. "Go on about your business, I'll see that the food is prepared." With that, Winterstorm climbed up to his favorite hill to sit and rest on. The sun was setting, and created a lovely pinkish orange color in the sky, one of Winterstorm's most beloved sights. Winterstormed laid on his back, his chest basking in what was left of the sun. He slowly managed to drift off into sleep. Then an Image started unhurriedly fading in. Everything was dark. He was curled up with his mother, one night, within the safety of the teepee. Listening to the river rushing, breeze blowing, crickets chirping. The night was undisturbed. On the hill overlooking the camp, yellow electrifying eyes pierced the darkness. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- •••[The Above Paragraph is still in the making]••• -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As the sun continued setting, the smell of fish hugged Winterstorms' nose. He got up and raced back down the grassy hill, headed for the campfire. "Greetings, Winterstorm. Great to see you!" greeted Sunclaw, the cook. "Feel free to take what you like," he said, briefly pointing his nose to the cooked fish. Winterstorm picked up a basket that was available for use, and he picked out two Covina's, for him and his brother. He then made his way to their tepee to tell Brownclaw that it was meal time. When he arrived, his brother was resting on the bed. Brownclaw acknowledged Winterstorm's entry without having to open an eye. He could smell him. "Evening, my younger brother," he welcomed, while resting with his arms behind his head. Winterstorm gave him an affectionate look as his brother sat up. "Well come on," Winterstorm urged his brother, "It's time to eat."