Phantom Quadrant presents:

Three fingers curl inward and from out of sight, resting on their triggers.

“A battle. A firefight. Light and sound and dust and fear and bullets and explosions. A cataclysmic battle. And some people…some people saw it all. Maybe. Maybe they have a better understanding of what it is to be one of us.”

She puts her hands behind her head, hunches over, and closes her eyes.

“Maybe. You didn’t. But you saw the White Fang; you’ve met the three of them. Maybe if you give it enough thought, you’ll be able to give it enough thought.”

With a creak, she hits the nail on the head.

“An identity. Like the