*
Silence rang out over the plains, where the earth was so scorched by the heat that it dried and cracked under the harsh glare of the sun. For miles and miles ahead, there was no single sign of greenery, or even any life around.
The wind was nonexistent as well, making the air terribly dry and the dust so thick that it was hard to breath. Oberon cursed in his head about a hundred times as he moved through the dust which rose from each step he took.
Behind him, six thousand wolves marched in a tight formation, each one as terrified as the next. Indeed, none of them could claim to not know that they were marching to certain death. The rumours had spread quickly enough, and now they were on the brink of death with nowhere to run or hide. Before them, the territory of the Silver Assassin
