The night. A dark cloak cast by nature, and outlet for all nocturnal. He sat there, behind that high stone wall. Staring at the earthen bricks, as if he could see through them. But it was not so, though he would have liked this, for mearly a ordinary wolf. Nothing more than a longing look towards the sky.
“It was funny.” He thought,” How so many creatures like him howled to this ivory orb. Mocking it, with saucy luster. But yet that eternal, celestial being always had the last laugh. For when those once young wolves had fallen, failed in the face of death, the moon taunted them in a whole-hearted manner.”
The aged creature sat, caged by this unbreakable barrior. The motled brown coat lossing it’s luster. Falling from the wolf in waves. He sighed and howled again knowing his time was short. He was warning them, the others like him. The youth. He was telling them that life was not ever lasting. Though it could seem as such. Yet he knew none had heard. And even if they did they would not heed.
His life with the men had been good at first. A nice family, with lovely younglings, treating him as one of his domestic realatives. Those five years had been desirable. And then a little one had pulled to hard on his tail. He blindly had struck out, harming the child. Condeming himself to the fast approaching fate. More had come for him, he knew that they were going to slaughter him. And so he ran.
Away he fled, far, far away. And yet they found him still. But held them not accountable. For the men who had tried to tame him were not evil, simply ignorant to the truth. He was a wild animal. Not a tamed pet. He didn’t blame the men who had hunted him for two years now. For they were simply trying doing there painstaking job. And so he was here.
Condemed to what the the humans used to kill unwanted creatures. He knew not what they would do, but the time was near. The men had come. Gently taking him to a high steel table. He cared not about death, for he welcomed the fact. But he was sorry for wolves like him who would suffer the same. They held him down, but he made no sign of protest.
And as the long needle was stuck into his flesh he winced. But then a thought dawned upon him. Maybe if those human creatures knew the harm the were doing, they would stop. Maybe if there was a way one could tell them, they would cease. And as his nobled body went limp he had one last thought.
“If that were possable there will be hope…There will always be hope.”
And the aged wolf lowered his head, and died.
