This Is What It's Like

The wind rushes into my lungs. A thrilling thing, driving me to extend my limbs further, accelerating even more. The trees are a blur to my eyes, dimly lit by the mystical luminescence of the great full moon. To my eyes, this is truly the most beautiful sight ever to behold.

Taking another tremendous lungful of crisp autumn air, I leap forward. I can feel the muscles in my shoulders strain with the effort. Those in my legs flex and move under my skin and fur. This sensation drives me more, leaping and dodging in the night.

I have no purpose in my run. I am not in pursuit of a meal, nor am I fleeing an enemy. I have faith in my own power. Long, pale teeth that shine like newly fallen snow. A powerful jaw that, given a purpose, can prove deadly. My teeth have been stained with the crimson liquid of blood before.

On this night, however, which seems almost magical, I am running purely to run.

To feel the earth, firm beneath my paws.

To hear the wind, howling my name as it sweeps past my ears.

This is heaven for me.

This is what it is like to be free.

To run with nary a care what-so-ever.

To be a fleeting spirit of the forest.

To be a wolf; wild and free on a wondrous moon lit night.