Garth gripped his mace tight at the memory of his father's dead body on the porch; throat cut, bereft of clothes and cut into seemingly after the fact. And his mother, who he had found on the floor inside the house; raped repeatedly and knocked unconscious, the bottom seam of her dress still up by her shoulders. A dead Bear was laid in the bedroom, his mother's knitting needle protruding from the left side of his chest. For half an hour Garth had kept on kicking and stabbing the dead soldier, and then spent the next three hours sobbing on the bed before tending to his mother's head wound. The then sixteen year old had spent all of the following morning trying to dig a grave for his father in the frozen winter soil. Now, he could finally get revenge. He looked up slowly and stared back at the Alpha.
“But not now,” Adam continued, with a small half-smile after having seen the boy's hatred and determination. “Now! They stand across from us!” He started roaring at the top of his lungs as he motioned his horse to walk on again. “They cannot hide! They cannot sneak by here to target those dear to us!” The Alpha drew his large two-hander as his face contorted into the very image of rage.
“They! Will! Not! Survive!”
The entire Greywolf army exploded with shouts of anger, profanities and vows of the most unthinkable horrors. Garth just stared at the sigil that he carved on the inside of his shield- the sigil of the Bear pack that had robbed him of his father and his mother of her sanity.
“Do not break rank, boy.” Craig said beside him as he put his helmet on, his long hair coming out underneath it. “We've got enough fools as it is.” He added as he nodded to a group of soldiers from another pack in the third and fourth row, all drinking their last flask before the actual fight.