An exhale sends a puff of smoke into the cold air,
and his eyes shine like diamonds by the light of the moon.
The rock is cold under weathered feet,
and the clouds are few and far between,
painting a wispy haze over the horizon.
Poised like a statue over the valley below,
the wolf stands frozen in time.
Lifted by the spirit within,
and the call of solitude.
It's here he explores the lessons of the day.
Here, he finds gratitude for the successful hunt.
Here, he acknowledges strength and weakness alike.
His heart rests with the pack,
and his mind rests in the sacredness of the moment.
The wolf licks his lips in the cold air,
and looks to the left to see a pair of eyes and a shadow in the trees.
He stands calm while the eyes quiver.
They didn't intend to be seen.
The wolf and the eyes hold their gaze.
The wolf, certain.
The eyes, unsure.
The wolf lifts his head and howls with courage,
echoing with majesty over the silent valley,
and the eyes find a stillness previously unknown,
locked in an enamored gaze by the beauty of such a thing.