This is a short story by a friend and colleague of mine. Though is isn’t written in at rhyming style it feels like a song or a saga. Change is tough and often brings sadness and he captured that and more in his story.
A wolf lay on the earth, staring restless at the sky. The moon was covered with the sky-fog, and the pack was distant. Restless, the wolf licked its lips and began to pace back and forth, growling and whining at the sky, but that moon would not show, and he felt lost. His stomach clawed. He had not eaten for days, save a rabbit, which was not enough.
Slowly and quietly, he padded low through the brush, his hackles raised as he smelled ill humors on the air. The moon was hidden from him, but he knew this forest. He was stalking to the nearby spring. His mouth was dry with thirst, and he hoped to see deer, even at the hour. If there was a sickly elder, he could perhaps surprise it.
The forest wolf smelled the sweet smell of the trees near the water and slowed as he…
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