King Elk Forest The wind

Stars littered the sky. Their light twinkled from overhead and crickets hummed in the foliage. Peace felt something akin to a warm summer night. For the runaway wolf, there was nothing better. 

Crowfeather watched fireflies bob through the air. They looked lazy, he thought to himself and frowned. The slow rise and fall of the spark bug was like a drunken dance. 

The wolf was resting on his belly, paws neatly arranged in front of him, much like a sphinx. He had eaten twice just that day but his ribs still showed through the sheen of his dark fur coat. 

Tall and thin, bones peering through, eyes sunken deep into his head. Crowfeather could have played more accurately at a cryptid monster than a wolf.