"You cannot be at a stalemate if you aren't playing the game." said the god as the wolf seemed to wisk away, fading. "Farewell."
When the wolf got up, she would see two things. Number one was the deer, the prize. It was the same size as in the dream. Number two was armor. It fit her perfectly. It was made of a marbley pearly substance encrusted with diamonds. It is near-impenetrable and extremely light, not restricting any movement. Baihua had made it that this dream would be remembered.
Wind flew throughout the trees as a booming familiar roar was heard, poetically.
"You encountered the game,
You saw no purpose,
Does it's ruler have bane?
And why would he hurt us?
You saw his white presence as well as his mane,
oh how he has a clear surplus,
Then all of your efforts where in vain,
To him, you look like a purpose.
Then again, he put you to shame...
He saw no good reason to not make you a carcass,
And last of all, you came,
And here comes Marcus, all steel-clad and shirtless,
Oh, he is so very murderous, sword-in-hand and worthless.
This is the story of the White Lion and the Black Wolf. He's hopeless."
It was a wonderful poem. This 'Marcus' was a aggressive warrior that stumbled here and is about to attack the werewolf. "The Deer and Armor is yours. Now go, and play the game that is."