Rising Sun Valley before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves

There was a time in the white wolf's life when anger had been the norm, and if not rage then there had been sickening misery. It was why he had been strongly encouraged to leave home, to find his sun and to find foundation. Now, his wild temper seemed to have returned.

The cat leapt free of him and he gained his feet, planting them firm and holding his blood-stained ground. His head was carried low, defensively, and still he bristled and snarled with all the ferocity he could muster as his steel-hard stare followed the circling predator. Ever foolish in his rage, and woefully inexperienced at combat, he leaped again for the cat, attempting to once more score the creature's muzzle, to lacerate his nose and tear so savagely at that mocking face.