The war was fierce between two fighting packs of werewolves.
Intellectuals read the age as a palindrome, when days were reversible and could be read forward or backward.
The beasts fighting were among the strongest; they had existed for hundreds of years.
"Curse you!" said one wolf to another wolf.
"Curse you, too!" his opponent screamed as he thrust his claws and lunged at the enemy.
Truth was they had accepted the curse to be a blessing—an elixir for eternity.
An alpha wolf, Tatin (in his animal form) stood on top of a mountain. He looked down at the enemies with a steady gaze; then, created a fire. A number of wolves burned and Tatin's army retreated to his side.
Tatin was calm, hardly to be provoked under any pressure, but his eyes were alert.
Isabella, a luna wolf, looked up at him. There was a wolf pup crying in the middle of the hostilities. She ran fast toward him and snatched him amidst chasing wolves like lightning.
The enemies would come back, they knew, but they would always be ready.
Awoooooooo!" The wolves howled.
Tatin came back, and he fought for her as he promised.