Golden Glade Melodies of Fleeting Chances

all are welcome here!

One song stood out among all the thoughts that went through his head, and there were many.

He knew all about songs, as his pelt caught filtered sunlight through the Glade he had stumbled upon while searching for a place to find food and shelter for the night. The yearling's belly rumbled pitifully as he watched a rabbit run straight out of his line of sight. Hviske did not give chase. What am I even doing out here alone? I miss Da and Ma. 

They were gone. Home didn't feel like home, his littermates were about as hopeless as he was. Don't give up. Da raised you better. Plan, Hviske. Plan.

Wolfsong, Da had called it, a silken itch in a wolf's throat to set loose themselves upon the wind and, if one was lucky, hear a response. The song in his throat did not feel as if it would be pleasant, for his tale was not one of pleasure. A yearling wolf lifted his nose to the sky, losing himself in a single breath.

-

Hear my call, O Mighty Wild
Let my song take breezes mild
O'er the hills and your darkened groves
let it ring through your land and find its rose

Let my song reach fellow ear
A wolf alone but a year
Seasons come without a friend
Will my time as lonesome end?

-

Hviske continued his search for shelter, hoping his song would be heard. If not, well, another plan would have to be made.