The Monster that Makes the Wolf Human

She's alone,

She's lost,

She has no idea of who she is.

A lone wolf howling her grief to the moon,

standing atop of mountains,

uncaring if she ever finds her home again.

She hopes the reflection from the river will calm her nerves,

guide her from her rage,

and soothe the pain throbbing in her soul.

Her heart has faltered,

she's so much weaker than she thought,

but her shaky will has taken her so far.

To believe she has lost,

that would inevitably break her,

so stubbornness streaks her fur.

Defeat is so bitter,

and the taste of sweet victory is foreign,

but stumbling from one end to the other is intolerable.

so when morning comes,

and she has lost the silent mistress who listens to her distress,

this lone wolf will stride down the mountain one paw at a time.

And there will come the day she no longer needs the mountains,

for she will bow no more.

She'll make her home in her stride,

and her existence her creation.