The Young Wolf Howls.

In his dream,

he walked in a wood,

branches in his face,

mud under his feet.

He enjoyed the battle for survival.

He ate berries and leaves,

slept next to the water,

and awoke to sunlight

filtering through the trees.

He happily faced the enemies in day or night.

Each day he walked a new trail,

choosing bramble bushes

over paths paved in concrete.

He never gave up.

He never surrendered.

He never allowed the she-wolves to devour him.

He was a young wolf,

sauntering through the wood,

looking for prey.

He howled in the night,

scratching and serene.

He was king of the forest.

As he grew older,

his pace slowed.

His saunter became a steadier gait;

but, still he pushed,

ever forward,

looking for the next kill.

He stayed with the pack,

never alone;

but, always apart.

He kept free of entanglements

with other wolves.

He growled at the enemy,

while the she-wolves circled.

He was unaware of his growing discontent.

The she-wolves grew louder,

insistent,

and attacked.

They bloodied him with their fangs,

until,

looking for peace,

he ran away,

alone,

into the night.

Still alone,

he grew older still,

ate what he killed,

slept when he liked.

He was content to be an old king,

alone in the peace of the jungle.

Then, one day,

the queen of the she-wolves

approached in a glade.

She smiled at him,

and nuzzled his face with hers.

In an instant,

he surrendered to her charms.

He had grown tired of the chase

and accepted his fate.

He knew that only a queen

could be his match.

But, he wondered,

would she devour him,

or,

after his lifetime of struggle,

would she free him

to be a young wolf,

howling in the night

hunting for tomorrow?