Author's (probably only) note: This is not a complete one to one of Tooth and Tail, there will be other creatures in the four factions other than the main bunch that we see in the game. There will be cars and the warrens won't go directly to the HQ, (which, cmon, that's kinda stupid.) and there will be other powers in the war. (Though we likely won't see them for a good amount of time.) And, sadly, due to the fact I have not been able to finish the story mode, the fanfic will likely not be completely accurate even if I try.

Quartermaster Letova's View

She silently cursed as she gazed around her, the smell of blood and war was dulled through the gas mask she was wearing. 'At least that was working... for now', she thought as her eyes tried to pierce through the thick poisonous gas. She could barely breathe as it is, 'the filter must be getting clogged', She dimly thought, 'So ends the life of Quartermaster Letova... at the hands of her own gas mask...'. It was either dying from the poisonous gas around her or die from lack of oxygen, and if her leg currently wasn't full of rifle rounds then maybe she could get out... maybe. She gazed over to her side only to see her banner, the proud, green flag. Instinctively she weakly picked it up, holding it up for whoever could see her. She took one last look around her, the battle was basically over but she didn't know who won; Hooper's Commonfolk, or her KSR. She gave a small chuckle, how could a mob led by a peasant girl beat the Tsarina's secret police? Not like there was a Tsarina anymore... wait, was that a figure in the fog? Her hands scrambled to point her banner towards the foe, the sharp end of her banner had killed more animals than she'd like to say. The figure got only closer... was it saying something? She could barely hear it... she felt so weak. Her banner fell out of her weak hands and onto her legs, the pain barely noticed by her. She could barely feel someone shaking her.

Sergeant Volkov's view

The Sergeant shook the mouse's body, "Damn it, Ma'am! You aren't dying here!" His voice seemed to force itself through the gasmask like a storm. Volkov quickly picked her up and started to sprint out of the fog of poisonous gas, only stopping right as he got out of it, tearing both his and her gas mask off. He dimly noted that the filter was completely unusable and it was likely she didn't have any oxygen for almost a minute. He looked up and could see the old train station nearby... or at least the ruins of it. However, that wasn't his focus, the small camp next to it bared his full attention. A quick glance to make sure he wasn't walking into a Commonfolk base and again he sprinted to the small outpost. "Get the medics! The Quartermaster is injured!" His voice carried itself throughout the camp as it suddenly sprung into action. A stretcher was hastily brought over as the Sergeant gently placed the mouse onto it. The band of animals carried the stretcher away and into a medical tent. Volkov absentmindedly sat on a ruined piece of debris as he watched the medical tent. 'That was far too close... maybe... she's...' His hands instinctively tightened at the thought of her dying.

"Sir?" the Sergeant looked over to where the voice was only to see a relatively young Squirrel soldier, "Where did you find her? We've been looking everywhere for her and..."

Volkov simply looked over to where he came into the outpost, "Somehow the Commonfolk managed to create some kind of poisonous gas... she was in that cloud with a used up filter for... I don't know how long..."

The Squirrel looked at the entryway as well before heading back to his unit of Squirrels. Volkov didn't even need to listen to them to know they were whispering about what he did. He, on the other hand, simply sat there, continuing the look at the medical tent. Every second passed was another mental prayer, and every minute was a fit of silent anger at those Commonfolk who did this. He understood why they fought, the harvest was simply too much for them and the civilized didn't put any of their own on the chopping block. He understood that, but the way they carried themselves like a mob meant that only more death and destruction would come if they got their way. The fact that rumors state that they have connections to mobs across what once was their country only embolden all attempts to tear them down before they turn our homeland into some kind of mob ran "democracy".

"Yeah and I thought the wolf didn't have a heart!", the Sergeant's ears twitched as he glanced over to the squirrels, they were talking about him. He was the only wolf in camp after all.

"More likely, our dear Sergeant Volkov has something for the Quartermaster," One older-looking squirrel with a wooden left hand said that. Volkov's eyes narrowed as his head snapped towards the unit of Squirrels.

"Oh really?" A private asked, "It'd make sense I guess, he does act nicer after talking to her for a bit". Volkov had enough of this. He got up, and near silently walked up the still talking soldiers.

"Say," another private said, "Didn't those two know each other from before the war?" Volkov stopped for a moment, before continuing to walk over to the group. By the Tree, when he meet Letova was at... he was seven at the time and she was four.

He was right behind them and they somehow haven't noticed the 6 foot 3 inches wolf right behind them. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU UNCOOKED MEAT STACKS!?" The shout was heard throughout the entire camp as the Squirrels jumped away from the wolf in shock.

"O-oh... hello si-sir!" The older squirrel was first to recover, hand heading to his head for a quick salute. "We-we're just talking sir!"

Volkov smirked, "Oh really? Talking about what?"

One of the younger soldiers gulped at the wolf's smirk.