I've been running as a wolf,
And I've been running for so long,
Myself my only company,
My howl: my mournful song.
I've run across the icy planes,
I've travelled over snow,
The humans ruined all I had,
Now I've nowhere to go.
I've broken ice and fiery cool,
I've howled and searched for pack,
Then I thought of what happened,
They're never coming back.
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Crystal clear pools of smelted frost,. Ebony-black eyes to never be lost,. Snow-covered fur shaking in bounds,. Breath in gasps of steamy clouds,. Ears pricked attentively, alert as always,.
(inspired by Alfa She Wolf by iPuss). Tristan was rejected from the Opussian pack when he was just a cub. He wasn't the strongest, he wasn't the fastest, He wasn't the most dashing of the litter.
A print in the snow. The hunters first clue. The hunters first clue,. To hunting down you. A print in the snow. Quite big and quite fresh. The hunters first clue. That led into the this mess.
Moonlight trickles through the trees, dappling the autumnal leaves. Silver speckles on the bark, tiny beacons in the dark. Under the glow of mystic light, a hair raising howl enters the night.
I look for my prey. Chest heaving. Heart pumping. The dark colours of the plants boar me. I need the colour of prey, of food. I need the red of heat. The hairs on my back stand up grey and long.
Spots like raindrops lined with black, Falling softly on her glimmering back, Muscles ripple beneath golden hide, Dappled light falling from sunrise, A living work of art, wonderful, seldom...
An alligator worked out it's top of the food chain. He hid in the swampy rivers and reeds in the rain. Silent and still waiting for its prey. Along swam a crocodile with no fear today.
I sit above the forest, My ears are pricked, alert, I'm watching for the smallest change, A movement in the dirt.
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