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Poetry/Short Stories

Wolf's Bane
by Brittany Berry

In the chilling rain, through the passage of time, I run, Fur highlighted in the moonlight, paws caressing the undergrowth. My eyes look to the moon, and I see te face there, of my creator, a conplexionless being who set us free. I howl out into the night, with my pack following my lead, overjoyed at our freedom. We howl our complaints and lamentations, at the distruction of our home. The hunters come and shall run, though many may fight, all shall fail. For, all alone in our alabaster palace, we run in a desert of serinity, our lips never touching that ruby chalice; that has so tainted the furless ones. We are the moons' children, so seek not, for we are the seekers.