I’m cold and weakened, my thick coat decorated with ornaments of ice. Banished and scorned from my own, I drift, powerless, with the scent of blood I’ll never draw, heavy in my nose. I can feel you though, following in my tracks. I can hear the dull thud of your heart in the muted air of the winter cold.
I have seen you silhouetted in the dull light of moons many times. Your curiosity is not well hidden as you creep closer to me, our breath like smoke. Where do you go in the day, when I have no watchful gaze over my shoulder? Could I dream of running with you, our ears pinned back to the wind, and the cold is brushed from me like a dusting of snow on the frozen lake? We are two young wolves hunting in the dark.