Prologue:
An eagle dotted the gray-blue sky. It soared for a few more moments and then settled atop a smooth, thin branch of a tree with its deep black predator talons making scratches against the dense bark. The branch shook a bit, but nothing to the extreme. The eagle made sure it was quiet. With the sunlight reflecting upon the eagle's brown feathers, the bird watched from above staring down a figure with gray wolf skin on top; and much like the beast, the figure ran slashing down its enemies, the red coats, without a hint of mercy or woe. Cries of both surprised and dying men rang along the trees and the wooden fort that surrounded them. Several wolves could be heard howling in the distance, possibly smelling the new fangled blood being splattered carelessly across the ground. The guards were now nothing but mincemeat. The wolverine figure navigated its way across the gory obstacles of violently amputated arms and severed heads until it stumbled upon another group of intrepid guards. But they did not have much time to rely on for they soon became an addition to the meal before them. And the wolf pressed on without a second to lose. The eagle adjusted its sights and tinkered with its white feathered head. Something bright was up ahead. The wolf continued moving on, getting farther and farther away from which it came. Its panting breath could be heard in the distance as the animal fought its way against nature's snow, the white tundra getting more and deeper and thus unforgiving. But the light still brightened. Even with the scenery being of a pure white, completely covering the tracks of what was once fall, the yellow light continued to show itself as the dominant color against all colors of the winter, although the sun gently floated behind it all. Suddenly, the eagle decided to pounce, flying towards another branch closest to the wolf and setting a firm talon grip there. The figure had also stopped and across from it stood another predator. Old, weary, but also had the look to kill. By weary, the elder also meant tired of whatever this sly wolf has done. The older one spoke, firm and dry. Perhaps the elder was also a bit dehydrated, "You… You have caused enough trouble, assassin!" The wolf assassin retorted, "And you would make a difference?! I will put an end to your despotism, Washington! This time, you will lay dead and the apple will be in my hands!"
"Imprudent child!" Washington threw a small children's fit and pivoted back. The assassin came rushing towards the elder, tomahawk in hand, when an unexpected force tossed the wolf back like a rag doll at about twenty-five feet. The snow was soft, but from being thrown at such unbelievable speed, it made tiny scratches of blood across the assassin's half-nude body and face. The wolf growled. The elder screeched in command, "Kill HIM!" The wolf finally managed to get back on its feet, but so did these strange beings that literally rose from the white that covered them. With red, deep eyes, the creatures wore brown clothing with bronze armor. Demons? Monsters? But now would not be the time to think. The wolf had to act fast as more strange people kept rising from the snow. With a cry, the assassin came charging through the snow and into one of the first monsters, tomahawk breaking the marriage between the creature's head and body. But the action was much smoother than usual and the wolf saw why. With its sky blue eyes, the wolf did not see blood, but instead, a black ghoulish vapor that dispersed within the air including the body that it was contained in. As much as it was surprising, there was still no time to think about it as more and more ghouls kept creeping in. Like before, the assassin busted through the rest of them, slashing and ignoring what was happening to the beings as they fell. Surprisingly, they did not attack much. Just gave the assassin a sinister gaze. But it was Washington once more who did the attack. Another strong force recklessly tossed the wolf away about the same distance. The eagle perching above turned around and then looked back. "Hmph," Washington spat. The assassin replied, "If you really wanted a fight, why did you not give me one?" He came back to his feet. The elder laughed a little and honestly said, "You know what? I'm not sure. Perhaps I just wanted to show you what I am really made of."
"Heh," the assassin scoffed, wiping blood off the corner of his left lip. "Of that?"
"No." Washington's voice grew darker. "Of this." With another strike with the Apple, the ground shook an absolute earthquake terrifying many of the animals from their wake and from their hibernation. Nothing cracked, but the snow was even more grueling eating up the assassin's legs like quicksand. Washington, however, showed no struggle at all walking along the snow, edging a little closer to his enemy, foot by dawdling foot. The gray wolf was about to break when suddenly he became consumed with electric energy, another strike from the Apple. The energy was strong and held the assassin to his knees, chest and arms out in total distress. From this, the Earth below became relaxed once again. The old man grinned which made the eagle's blood quiver, "Connor, Connor, Connor… You are very weak-minded, thinking that you can just magically snatch the Apple from me and run away naked as though from that, rules are no longer bound." The electricity surrounding Connor got stronger and stronger as Washington got closer and closer. "You think you can defeat me? You think that you have enough power in your weak little heart to even lay a scratch on me? Well, you are wrong, assassin. In fact, you are dead wrong." With one more strike with the Apple, the electricity stabbing throughout the insides and outsides of Connor stopped with a near deadly blow, a good handful of blood sprouting out of the assassin's mouth. Right after the blood tainted the snow below him, the rest of the wolf's body fell with eyes rolled back. Washington smiled once more, "Ah, but I did not kill you… yet. You know what? I would rather torture you… slowly. Like during the middle ages. Slowly stretching you and stretching you until you become bear skin on the floor." There were his last words before walking back and ordering several more red coats to escort Connor's unconscious body far away from the fort, back into the deep frontier. Amazingly, the same eagle from before followed Connor's body as it watched him being heartlessly dragged, one of the soldier's hands gripping him by his left wrist, across the dirt and then left to rot randomly in the middle of the forest floor. Several rabbits scattered away from the abrupt sound of crushed leaves caused by heavy boots. And once the red coats walked their way back to base, the eagle flew down and perched itself on Connor's chest. The eagle stared at his face with its black pupils. The blood stopped flowing from Connor's mouth. Good. And he's still breathing. Even better. Many scratches were left all around his chest and some on his face, but it happens. Nothing to deep or to dangerous. Nothing that the eagle cannot handle-until the night comes to cover the day, in fact. The eagle shook its small, dark-gray tricorne hat off its white head. The feathered friend must protect the wolf against all costs within the night. After all, the assassin is his son.