Swiftly through the trees, making no noise, but a sudden breeze.
A silent chill goes through them, as a fearsome wolf emerges from its worn out den.
With a nasty bite, and baring a howl, the moon wakes up for a night to prowl.
Brisk movement, stirring up every soul, makes the smallest critters scurry to the nearest hole.
The darkened forest, the naked trees, the cold winter breeze.
Sharp peircing jaws baren, hackles rised, paws gripping the cool ground, prepare the wolf for a hunt in the haze.
By Alligator169