The Bracken Woods I wonder where I wander

He was alone.

Fresh in his mind was the chaos of the past weeks. First, his human master, dropping him and his siblings off the hands of another and driving away with his mother in tow. Then, their daring escape from this new man, their young, thin legs carrying them swiftly away from the machines that chased them down. After separation came death. One sister, plunging to her death in the mountains. The other going slowly, smelling of acrid disease, dying with her green eyes wide open, flecks of foamy drool on her muzzle.

That was then. This was now. In the space of just several sunrises, Denali's life had changed forever. He was alone.

It was daytime--he could see the sun barely glinting through the thick canopy of trees above--but the dense forest was lit in dusk-like light, shaded, anticipatory. Denali padded softly over the thorny bracken, uttering murmured curses every once in a while as some sharp object became embedded in his paw. He stayed silent as he walked, nostrils flaring as he searched for the scent of prey. Denali had feasted on the occasional bit of small game, but it wasn't enough for his growing body, already large for his young age.

There seemed to be nothing in this forest, no sound, save a bird call from on high every once in a while. Was he the only wolf-dog--or, god forbid, the only predator--on earth? A feeling of trepidation overcame Denali, followed quickly by a hot rush of anger.

Everyone left you, and now you're alone, he told himself acridly, teeth bared as the thought rose to his mind. You're alone, you're alone, you're alone.