The Lone Wolf's Cry
As he sits in the woods,
sometime before summer 2000
Bushy tail curled about his haunches,
His paws frozen, his ears pricked,
And a blanket of snow upon his back,
He listens to the unfriendly silence;
Not a sound but the whistling wind,
And boughs cracking under the weight
Of thousands of tiny flakes…
He suddenly rocks back and
throws his muzzle to the sky,
seeming to call to the stars
his long mournful cry.
His voice echoes through the forest,
Shattering the dull silence that
Had been a muffling canopy before.
With a final howl he lowers his head…
Looking pitifully to his side,
Feeling very much alone…
He gives a whimper and shuffles
Over to the form next to him,
Nuzzling it and nudging it…
Hopefully.
He pushes his small body close to
The large one beside him,
Not knowing what else to do.
Once again, the only sounds that
Come to his ears are that of
The trees and wind, along with his
Own murmurings of grief,
For he can’t understand
That his mother is dead.
I'm not postive, but this may have been inspired by the beginning of the movie Iron Will... or was it White Fang? hmmmm...