"Only a mountain has lived long enough to listen objectively to the cry of a wolf."
- Aldo Leopold
A rough, wet tongue, laughing eyes and a curious nose.
The smell of something wild and free.
Shattered, bent and bloody.
The gentle, searching, massive paw.
A soft chuffing breath, playfully puffing.
Twisted, burned and raw.
Emptiness. Cold, sinking desolation in the pit of the stomach.
Rage, pure and perfect.
Murder in the eyes.
Murder in the heart.
Murder in the hands.
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