The ground was cold and damp with the fresh snow of winter. The wind howled through the frozen branches of the trees, making an eerie whisper scolding those that dare face its icy grip. On the ground laid a lone guardian, flat on the ground and barely conscious. The visor of the guardian's helmet was shattered in an almost fantastical way as the surrounding trees and sky became a kaleidoscope through the glass. Through the entry in the helm, the wind made a refuge as the guardian's vision blurred.
All the guardian could feel was the cold taint of the snow and the hand of a nearby friend that had already gone to the other side. The hope of a soon, happy reunion in a more warm and kinder place rests on the guardian's mind, sharpening the pain and sorrow of defeat. As the beautiful colors skewed by the visor began to cloud their drifting thoughts, a sudden crunch of the snow nearby brought back the guardian's senses. The guardian propped on an elbow to gain a better view, dizzied by the painful, weak pulsing of blood, what little there was.
Through the white glow of the snow, only mere feet in front of the guardian stood a white wolf. Fear began to take the guardian; surely this would mean a unmerciful demise at the hands of nature. But upon further glance the guardian noticed something abnormal about this resolute wolf. In its mouth held the guardian's hand cannon. A small, silent moment passed before the wolf's large, white teeth bared into the sides before promptly dropping it to the snow. The gun bore the scars of the bite with large scratches making their mark on the barrel. The gun dropped only a few inches from the guardians hand.
The guardian slowly reached for the weapon with what little strength was available and accustomed to the familiar feel of the grip. The gun was now marked, and yet seemed to hum with an unfamiliar power and rigor not possessed by the weapon before. Confused but thankful, the guardian then looked up to gaze upon the white wolf, only to find that it had vanished. Even with the snow and wind still chilling through the visor, the tracks were still slightly visible in a path vanishing off into the woods. With new-found power the guardian rose up from the snow and weakly stood stagnate, still looking down to the ground where the others laid. Taking a deep breath the guardian looked forward into the snow and began the trek.
We've been following those tracks ever since.