From a Wolfs Eye

Free, always free, always running. I can hear the clouds pass. I can smell the breath of a fish. My running can match that of the wild horse in the west. Can you guess what I am?

That’s right - I am a wolf. Everyday is a new adventure, exploring new areas of the forest, sniffing out new prey.

Wait.

What’s that?

My ears stand up, my nose twitches, my hackles are raised. I can smell something, something new, and I don’t like it.

Strange prey.

I don’t know what to do. I am far from home and only seven moons old. I think I should get back to the pack. No, I know I should get back to the pack. But I am curious. I start sniffing the air, but what I smell confuses me. There are many scents – Elk, deer, wood grouse, many others, but then I smell it.

Wolf.

I growl.

Whatever this is has killed a wolf. There is another scent but I do not recognize it, and I don’t plan on hanging around to find out what it is.

I run.

I run for many lopes. Everything is a whirl of colours. I eventually reach the den and I am exhausted.