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short story: a lone wolf

a lone wolf runs separate from his pack
down the same broken track
the taste of flesh and fur on his lips
soreness throbs in tired hips
there is her scent in the air
he would know her anywhere
it is for her he’s on this hunt
she waits for him hungry, in want
lying deep within her
tiny bundles wrapped in fur
as he approaches she howls for him
he drops the supper he got for them
she eats his gift to her belly’s content
he raises his head to howl, spent
he lies down beside her to protect his own
hungrily he chews the last bone
by the pale moon light
there will be pups tonight
he nuzzles her ear
as the time draws near
before the morning sun is due
there were five instead of two
a lone wolf runs to the top of the hill
he howls while the forest is still

a lone wolf



From → Poetry, Short Stories

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