Coincidentally, nothing had gone to plan. Things had been let go of that were never suppose to go away. Some of them were never suppose to be there to begin with and yet, They had appeared and were gone All the same. Frost began to form on the little green Leaves that sprung up from the ground, in abject spite of the harshness that had found the lands in which they were growing.
A little field mouse would dart across patches of gravel and then shoot back into the underbrush. So difficult to spot, unless perhaps you had Beene endowed with the curious eye of a pup. Had You been fully grown, you would Never see the field mouse. Too quick, too small, you might as well be looking for an imaginary friend but why would you? You with all the concerns of an aged Wolf. You who had to figure so much out. No, the field mouse, the Sunset, the Play, these would not be the only things you would Miss as Fall slowly pulled away and the Dogs of Winter inched ever closer.
The time had come, it had gone and with it, so many things. But as the Turning of the Wheel brings everything closer to something else, what beauty could still be Captured just down the Trail, amidst the mirth of an unforgiving coldness? For how long? And to what depths might it resonate within? Could you hold onto it, even through the cold?
And so it was that the Wolf had put his head down low and sniffed at Things Unseen. The smell giving way to images forming in his mind at once and Something told him to cut through the trees, up into the hills, toward the river, toward Life. Long is the journey, narrow the path, soft the pads, and hungry the jaws.
It was nightfall before he knew it. Time to dig. He had just about decided to lay his Grey head down on his paws when he heard the hooting of an Owl humming through the trees, ringing out from the distant Night sky. He blinked his eyes. Once, twice, they shut them and tried to go to sleep.
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