
The woods were dark despite the moonlit sky; the forest was quiet and the creatures of the night patrolled the grounds, catching each other's scents and listening carefully for anything out of the ordinary.
On the north side, where the woods were less crowded, a black wolf took careful steps as he approached the south side. He had just fed on a lesser creature, still dripping fresh blood from his mouth he followed the scent he had caught about a week ago. He needed to find the creature; he needed to see it.
On the south side, were the woods were murkier and the ground was damp, a red wolf walked, smelling the air. He caught a scent--somewhat familiar, and he decided to follow it. Curiosity always got the best of him.
In the middle of the forest, there lied a cabin, where an old man lived, keeping to himself but carefully watching over the forest. He was the keeper of the trees and creatures. He sat on his recliner, sitting by a small fire, the smoke carefully making its way up through the chimney and out onto the nighttime air.
He had fallen asleep but a sudden feeling of uneasiness in his dreams shook him awake; he slowly recollected himself as his eyes focused on the outside world. He came to terms with being awake now, sleeping would have to wait for later. There was a disturbance in the air, and he needed to know what it was.
The old man stood up carefully, grabbed his walking stick, a grey marbled one with strange markings on its spine and a wolf's head up on the top end. He approached the window by his small kitchen, and taking a peek onto the outside world, he could hear silence. An all too familiar yet unnerving stillness of the air; he proceeded to walk to his front door, where he approached carefully and as he opened it, a gush of wind blew his long grey hair and beard in the south direction. He sensed something else coming his way, although he could not tell what it was.
On the north side, where the woods were less crowded, a black wolf took careful steps as he approached the south side. He had just fed on a lesser creature, still dripping fresh blood from his mouth he followed the scent he had caught about a week ago. He needed to find the creature; he needed to see it.
On the south side, were the woods were murkier and the ground was damp, a red wolf walked, smelling the air. He caught a scent--somewhat familiar, and he decided to follow it. Curiosity always got the best of him.
In the middle of the forest, there lied a cabin, where an old man lived, keeping to himself but carefully watching over the forest. He was the keeper of the trees and creatures. He sat on his recliner, sitting by a small fire, the smoke carefully making its way up through the chimney and out onto the nighttime air.
He had fallen asleep but a sudden feeling of uneasiness in his dreams shook him awake; he slowly recollected himself as his eyes focused on the outside world. He came to terms with being awake now, sleeping would have to wait for later. There was a disturbance in the air, and he needed to know what it was.
The old man stood up carefully, grabbed his walking stick, a grey marbled one with strange markings on its spine and a wolf's head up on the top end. He approached the window by his small kitchen, and taking a peek onto the outside world, he could hear silence. An all too familiar yet unnerving stillness of the air; he proceeded to walk to his front door, where he approached carefully and as he opened it, a gush of wind blew his long grey hair and beard in the south direction. He sensed something else coming his way, although he could not tell what it was.

The two wolves eventually reached each other; both arriving at the old man's cabin, as he stood outside on his porch, waiting for them with a cold welcome of uneasiness and unworthiness.
The old man observed; he had no other reason to be there.
The red wolf approached the black one, salivating, with his dark empty eyes seeking a way to satisfy his hunger.
The black wolf carefully started to walk in his direction; watching every move he made, his tongue still salivating his previous prey, small shreds of skin still between his teeth along with wet fur and blood.
"Roman," the red wolf whispered.
"Truth," the black wolf responded.
The old man watched both wolves tear each other apart; the red wolf ripping into the black wolf's heels, the black wolf biting the red wolf's right ear. Blood splattering on the ground below them, mixing in with the dirt and rocks.
The old man observed. He had no other reason to be there.
Tendons splitting in two, muscles being ripped apart, blood gushing out as it covered each of the wolf's faces. Bones snapping.
The old man observed. He had no other reason to be there.
No reason at all.
Skin getting stuck in between their teeth, fur covered in blood as it painted a canvas below their feet. Ligaments cut, hair pulled--
Blood-shot eyes, slit throats, squished organs and the like, but the old man just watched.
"Is it fucking over already?" a voice came from inside the cabin.
"N0t y3t, 5w33th34rt. St4y 1n51d3," the old man replied.
"How much longer, Doc?" the voice asked worryingly.
"Th3r3 15 4n 0ld t4l3 th4t 54y5 th3 w0lf y0u f33d 15 th3 0n3 th4t w1n5. T3ll m3, 5w33th3rt, wh1ch 0n3 4r3 y0u g01ng t0 f33d?"
"The one I won't fucking starve first."
The old man observed; he had no other reason to be there.
The red wolf approached the black one, salivating, with his dark empty eyes seeking a way to satisfy his hunger.
The black wolf carefully started to walk in his direction; watching every move he made, his tongue still salivating his previous prey, small shreds of skin still between his teeth along with wet fur and blood.
"Roman," the red wolf whispered.
"Truth," the black wolf responded.
The old man watched both wolves tear each other apart; the red wolf ripping into the black wolf's heels, the black wolf biting the red wolf's right ear. Blood splattering on the ground below them, mixing in with the dirt and rocks.
The old man observed. He had no other reason to be there.
Tendons splitting in two, muscles being ripped apart, blood gushing out as it covered each of the wolf's faces. Bones snapping.
The old man observed. He had no other reason to be there.
No reason at all.
Skin getting stuck in between their teeth, fur covered in blood as it painted a canvas below their feet. Ligaments cut, hair pulled--
Blood-shot eyes, slit throats, squished organs and the like, but the old man just watched.
"Is it fucking over already?" a voice came from inside the cabin.
"N0t y3t, 5w33th34rt. St4y 1n51d3," the old man replied.
"How much longer, Doc?" the voice asked worryingly.
"Th3r3 15 4n 0ld t4l3 th4t 54y5 th3 w0lf y0u f33d 15 th3 0n3 th4t w1n5. T3ll m3, 5w33th3rt, wh1ch 0n3 4r3 y0u g01ng t0 f33d?"
"The one I won't fucking starve first."