War was not something his mother had told him about. There were stories of ancient times, wolves that could not shift like they could, and then the older dragons and knights that she had even told Haven and his siblings. There were stories that were uplifting. They were about heroes and villains that never prevailed. But war, and battles that would need such armor was not part of the tree named pup’s upbringing. Unknown to him, his mother had always hoped to keep such things from her sons. Fantasy was okay but the plagues of real history were not.
Haven explained it to his little brother, and Alder took in this truth with mixed feelings. He hadn’t really expected the reason to be so harsh, so bloody. His ears fell slightly, thoughts weighing it down and making him sad. What about the puppies? The youths that were too small to fight. Did they wear helmets and bare arms and rise against the enemies? The puppies too? He asked, voice meek and as small as he felt inside.
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