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River Everleap of the Mercian Clan never really had a good life. As a solitary creature, it wasn't surprising for her to not receive the proper love and care humans naturally give their own; and wh...
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"POTAMI!"
The voice of her old friend calling her name echoed through River's memory as if it were only yesterday and not over half-a-century ago.
Her heart ached with longing at the cloudy memories of the faces of those she had once loved, but she couldn't control the shiver that wracked through her as she recalled the darkest hours of that night...
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"POTAMI!"
The young werepuma felt the beating heat of adrenaline rush through her as she raced through the snowy undergrowth of the forest, the bright moon above her dappling the snow and her tawny pelt with light through the trees' naked branches, causing speckles of moonlight to rain down over her fur, turning it silver.
Potami's left ear twitched in acknowledgement when her close friend, Gyda, caught up with her, running evenly by her side. Gyda's pitch-black fur stood out against the white terrain and her green eyes stared ahead of her as they and the many warriors behind them ran towards to battle ahead.
Life in the tribe was not at all peaceful these days, especially with more lycanthropes appearing around England wreaking havoc. Potami was only sixty-four summers old, and because of her species, she was still considered extremely young and had only been appointed a trained warrior for forty-six summers along with her sister, Calypso, who fought in the first patrol being led by their brother, the heir, Leif.
The war between lycanthropes and puma-shifters has been taking place since Potami was only thirteen, and her mother had despairingly been one of the first victims in their malicious attacks. Many warriors have been lost to the carnage, and Potami was determined not to let anyone else she cared about die. She still mourned over the loss of Soma and many others.
Emerging from the woods and making face with the loud battlefield, Potami stopped at the borderline of the trees and assessed the chaos before her. There seemed to be hundreds of lycanthropes, all snarling and foaming at the mouth as they assaulted her people. They stood on their two back feet like a human did, but their wolf-like appearance and their tremendous size already gave away their status if it weren't for their outrageous and vindictive demeanour.
Potami let out a yowling war cry before she and her large band of warriors joined the fight. Fur clashed with fur, muscle pounded on muscle, and claws and fangs slashed and bit deep into the other's flesh. Blood sprayed against the pure-white snow along with clumps of flesh and fur, turning it ominous colours of vermillion and black.
After finishing off a weakened lycanthrope with two of her tribemates, Potami stopped to catch her breath as the others dispersed to find a new opponent. Blood drenched her muzzle and paws, her tastebuds feeling like they would shrivel up and die from the bitter taste of lycan gore.
