Wapun Meadow and we'll never be royals

the meadow had become his home in a way. there was something that kept him here. maybe it was the prey, or the neighboring residence (he was growing increasingly interested in their presence), or the wolves that came through his little domain. maybe it was all of the above.

this place seemed to allure all sorts of faces, because he stumbled across the third one this week. and this scene looked like something plucked out of a fairy tale.

there the wolf lay, one adorned in beautiful colors and magnificent eyes to boot.  and the blossoms leaned towards him, offering themselves for the bouquet.

”it is ain’t it?” cupid had approached just in time to hear the silent word. the yearling settled beside him and looked over the field of flowers.