Strength is there in numbers. We were one. A Union. One Brother. One Sister.
One Mother. One Father. One Wolf.

Blessed were our fruits. The children laughed and played, frolicing in the safe meadows,
where our enemies dared not challenge the Wolf. One Wolf.
We hunted only when it was needed, and we kept our powers at bay.
They were not needed. We polished them for years and years,
as tradition demanded from for-fathers and mothers before our time.
Our anscestors. We managed them for the time of war.
There had only been one war in the history of our world, Dawnworld.
And it had been between Man and Wolf.

The Wolf had won. The many Man had lost, for they were many, and we were One.

We inherited Dawnworld. It was ours. We had earned it.

Dawnworld.

But there is in everyone, greed. What should not of been born was born.

She rebelled. She used her powers and strengths for what they were not meant to be used for,
and she struck down the Father. It was the first crack in our windowpane.

She lead the Tribe in turmoil. She lead them against the other peoples, and struck so many down. Many peoples
were no longer alive. They were dead in the soil.

Mutiny.

Not once in our history had that word been praised. But now it was.

Her own son rebelled against her, and led the last of the One Wolf against her and those
whose greed had led them to her. The battled lasted from dusk until dawn.

Dawnworld was never the same.

She led them away, her people, greater in number then we. We were One, but our Unity had been shattered by her,
and so, many of our limbs left with her. What were we now, but a beating heart? A heart needs a body to survive.

She and they delved too greedily. Their empire rose into the sky until they ruled the sky as well.
We were sheltered in the wood. But their marble halls rose and never fell.
Their Hunt Masters took our food, and we starved. Our children died before we did, despite our efforts to feed them
and keep the meat from our stomachs. A parent is not meant to outlive their own child.

So their power grows, and it seems as though ours dwindles. Are we dying? Are we, the Heart, bleeding too profusely,
they lapping up the blood into the veins of a growing empire?

Now We are One Wolf, and They are One Wolf. There are Two Wolves in Dawnworld. How many more will come?

Comes The Dawn

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