Wolf Song

When the night waned, and the moon was full, I heard it calling on the wind.

I heard the wolf song.

Old and enchanted. Lilting and intoning. Bidding me to run, to hide, to go forth. Bidding that I get up, that I not be still, that I look.

That I find.

Follow the hollow in the forest’s mound,

Follow it deep, deep underground.

Wolves tell the tales of the things hiding in the dark,

Wolves tell because others cannot, death to the lark.

Death to the lark.

The Moonlands

It was dark. Hollow.

As I took the steps precariously with my limited eyes, I could feel them. Boring into me. Stars that winked, even in the dark. Unseen eyes that knew what I did not. Whose eyes understood further than my own could ever hope to reach.

Those eyes on me—knowing, waiting, watchful eyes—I continued the dark trek.

Entering the Temple of the Moon.

Restless Child

Strength of the Wolf

Power is not something earned, or something given.

It’s built.

Bricks stacked together, to build monuments. Dynamite stacked on dynamite, to blow through mountains. Metal bolted to metal, to make tanks.

Power is not in you. It’s something you build.

You can build power in anything, with anything. With anyone.

Power is a determination. A mindset.

Tell me:

What’s the difference between wolves and coyotes?

Not what you think it is, I bet.

I’ll tell you.

It’s not in the bite, or the bark, or the way they howl.

It’s in the way they walk.

The Great Tiger

It happened by chance. A very unhappy, happy circumstance.

One night, when the tent was empty, and the clowns were drunk, and the crowds had all left, it happened.

I was in my cage. Not unusual. Not in the slightest bit.

At least, that was what I’d thought.

Until the wolf walked in.

Wolf of the Winter Wood

I had always thought I liked winter best. The way the cold pricks at your nose, keeps your senses sharp. Covers the ground with white, dusting away what once was in favor of what could be. A clean slate with the death of the past. Of what was.

Yeah, I liked winter best.

In all honesty, I think I still do.

But.

There was one thing I forget to account for.

Winter is so, so cold.

Wolf in Wolf’s Clothes

A hunter’s job is to hunt.

That’s a given.

We don’t spend our days in the woods to come out empty handed. We’ve got mouths to feed—namely, our own—and finding nothing makes for a pretty boring day anyhow.

But there are certain things we don’t expect to find.

Certain things we don’t want to run into.

And certain things we’d never even think we’d ever run into.

Like a wolf in wolf’s clothes.

That was a new one for me.

Tired

I think I was just tired.

Tired of the fear.

Tired of the waiting.

Tired of trying to gain something that never really mattered in the first place. Something I didn’t need to find with them. Something that was more easily found elsewhere.

Yeah.

I was probably just tired.

Wolf Cry

Have you ever been outside at night? Out in the woods? Where everything is wild? Where the trees are so thick, the moon doesn’t dare to intrude?

Well, if you have, then you already know, but, I’ll say it for those who don’t:

The night is not a quiet place.

Not for us wild things.

For the nocturnal, those of us who wander through the darkness. For us, things are not quiet.

In fact, they’re quite loud.

You’ll find our noise fairly easily, as long as you wait patiently enough.

The noise will come.

It will come.

Arlene of Atonement–Part 3

The royals had never seen such battle prowess. Not from a human, anyhow.

The woman was like a beast.

Without hesitation, she leapt up from the ground and slaughtered the next horseman easily. With those claws attached to her wrist armor, she made short work of the soldier.

Then moved on the to the next.