Crouched on all fours, blades of grass rip past his ears as he runs to the meadow. Sun above is so steaming hot. He licks himself clean. He doesn't seem so mean. They are scared away by vehemence. NO, NO, it's only dismay.
There are so many vicious hunters, prodding at him with their guns. He resists. Growling fiercely, he tries to scare them away. He's not hungry with anger; only desire. Those sounds from that thing he doesn't understand sound beautiful. He dreamt of a stray peer and spoke to him. Dreaming tomorrow's reality, he sees today's victims and runs to them. They don't have to feel so alone. They can make a pack.
Running in the high grass hills, they chase him. He is almost untouchable. Autistic scary. Beautiful. Defensive. The wolf will not attack unless necessary. He shares with his brothers. He loves his beautiful female wolves but he may never stay. Here tomorrow, gone today.
Leave him alone, better off alone. The wolf is so real they can't understand him. He's so unapproachable if you don't come as a friend. It could almost be the end. So many wounds need time to mend.
The wolf. The wolf. The wolf. Howls at the moon in sadness, having such confidence. Howls in anger, never took a bite?
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