The night is dark and cool. The black covers the demands of shadows under the trees. My wolf runs light and steady toward the forest. Moss and twigs rustle under its paws. The air is delicious and cool, its smells of adventure, victory and life. One stretch, one fast movement, one yelp. It tears with its powerful jaws, tasting the blood. Nerves are filling with sensations, its teeth chipping on the bone.
The nigh is sweet.
The moon is pale and sickly.
The moon is jewel.
The night is beautiful.
My wolf lies down to rest, to drink from the pool.
My pain is mine to keep. My wolf runs freely.