• T

A Poignant Wolf

Updated: Nov 23, 2019



He walks the meadows where the fog is thick. Claws shining and fangs concealed, he does not wish to see the moon. His scars tell tales of battles fought and foes fallen, while he stands still, in the white fog that tastes of the night that he breathes in.

A rabbit hops around, a crow perched on his back, he waits for the fog over the river to clear. He waits. He waits for the sun. He waits for it’s warmth. Distant howls pierce through the jungle which is never quiet and spread across the meadow on which he stands. Fireflies light up the wall of white. The wild has a way to talk. Fireflies are the messengers of the dark. He knows. They emerge from the fog and circle around the remains of a deer. Last prayers before the wild reclaims rest of it.

The wolf stands still. He prays for the deer, who came to him to end his life at the dusk, with his family. His body shivering, face warped in pain. He bid them adieu and shed no tears for none were left. Then he walked slowly towards the wolf and mustered a smile. And suddenly, with all his might he ran. One last chase. He knew he can’t escape. But the joy of fear! The wolf came pouncing. His attack precise. The deer collapsed staring up at the birds returning home with the falling sun. He smiled. There was no more pain. His eyes met the wolf’s and found himself in them. The wolf stood till they shut one last time. With the setting sun, he ate.

Now the wolf stands, waiting for the sun. His stomach working through the disease ridden body of the deer. His eyes carry the pain of the deer. He waits for the sun to burn it away from them. He suffers for the deer. He carries the burden. With the morning sun, the rabbit will be visited by it’s kins one last time. But for now, he hops around the remains of the deer and the wolf.

Another crow appears from the, now receding fog. With him three vultures. They have come to clean up.

They nod to the wolf, who is waiting. The fireflies disappear slowly and the thin veil of fog turns orange. And with the rising orchestra of the wild, the sun emerges. The wolf smiles.

T

25 views1 comment