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| Wolf Song Heads high the wailing sounds as starlight filled their eyes. The baying call of the silver hair, looking for her mate. Answers from across the valley from others mournful cries. Somewhere in the gloom of night some would meet their fate. The Erie night began as the moon hung white and frozen. Misted breath smoked the air as low temperature found its mark With cunning, strength, and stealth a victim would be chosen. They set off into the night, the pack led by the matriarch. The tempo growing stronger as others came along. Now came the test from things learned since they were born. Smaller bands were gathering, drawn by the soulful song. The whispered walk of the shadows, as a group began to form. The prowlers of the night kept others nerves on edge. The teamwork began in earnest as the group continued on. One would stalk a trail below, another high upon a ledge. Silent signals as watchful eyes kept looking through the black. Each member was on guard as they were used to violence. Once was heard a nearby rustle and several left the pack. Soon the others heard the shrill and shortly only silence. Some of the pack circled around to join in the crowded feast. The meal took on stature as order and rank prevailed. A little snarl and a low growl each wanting at least a piece. The membership all shared in the kill, even those that failed. The tiny meal would not fill the lot, more hunting was required. Working as a team had a great advantage, working in a relay. They�d run the quarry to the ground when it got too tired. A game they all learned as pups, one they liked to play. Later the hunt was over, their bellies almost filled. Now feeling lazy they�d all return to their dens. Back in heavy undergrowth or a vantage on a hill. Some would be in burrows along with the younger kin. The masked Writer <o.o> � 2002 T Lovett |
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