I like writing - here's a bit of a story I'm crafting.
Constructive critisism is encouraged, and, well, is this worth continuing? (P.s., they're feral, not anthro.)
"... And the he-wolf bellowed across the snow-strewn valley, snarl and growl full of deadly intent, challenging the war-hardened fighters amassed before him and his remaining rebel troops: "We will listen to lies no longer! For we have gazed into the Heart of the Sun, and then, and only then, was when we truly saw. There are no gods! We shall never, never, send our pups off to slaughter to appease the supposed wrath of your so-called gods again!" His tail was held high; his eyes were slitted against the wind that so prevailed at such altitudes.
He raised a howl, expressing within it his grief at the loss of his cubs, innocent victims in a war that they could never understand; and he sounded his longing to fight, to claw and tear and bite and rend those responsible for all the death and cruelty they had caused. The scores of wolves behind him also took up the cry, an eerie death-chant, clawing at the ground in their eagerness for justice.
He heard the howls stop, as one.
Then so faded the echoes.
And, wistful gaze fixed ahead, the rebel leader ran forwards, his rusted armour glinting in the sunlight, and an army at his back."
