The smell of blood mixed with steel. The streets rang with shouts of fear, rage, and pain. All around the young fox was destruction and chaos. He screamed as a heavy paw clamped upon his shoulder, pulling him back into the alley from which he was about to enter. His captor's other paw pressed itself over his mouth, stifling his pleas for mercy. "Be quiet! You almost killed yourself!" A pair of armored weasels marched past, weilding bloody longswords. "See?Now, shush, damn you! D'you want us both to be killed? Now be quiet, I'm going to let go of you." The paws realeased themselves, and Bredfur spun to see his rescuer. Bredfur gasped as he recognized his saviour, a young wolf only slightly older than himself. "You...you...you're Edrig!" The wolf rolled his eyes. "Am I now? Thank ye much for teling me, I never would've guessed were it not for you," he said sarcastically. Bredfur, lowered his gaze, embarrassed. Edrig sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm just tired as hell and sick of this bloody fighting. I shouldn't take it out on you. Please, accept my apologies." He held out his paw to the incredulous fox. "Uh...a-apology accepted..." Bredfur muttered. He still couldn't believe what was happening. First, the attacks, and now here he was, Bredfur, a simple fox of mixed heritage, shaking paws with a living legend! "We need to get out of here. The streets are not safe," Edrig stated, glancing out into the now-deserted street. "The fighting seems to have stopped for the moment, we should take advantage of that and get somewhere safe. Bredfur looked at the grim wolf in surprise. "We?" He asked. "Heh, yes, we. I'm not leaving you here on your own, you'll be slaughtered! Can you fight?" Bredfur picked up a fallen sword. "I'm no expert, but..." He gestured with the sword. "Good! Let's beat it, before those bastards decide to come back," Edrig declared. The pair quickly ran off, leaving behind them the carnage inflicted by the unknown enemy.