THE LONE WOLF by Nick Arndt

Bitter the cold, the night.

Banking on faith, His pride.

A Michigan winter.

Deep in the pines.

A wounded moose, the prize.

A race against time.

Long years have passed.

Still, this will be a climb.

Eyelids flicker, then settle.

A deep sleep.

A dream, unforced.

His mind races.

The Wolf, with a pack.

A pack, with the Wolf.

Halfway there.

Painfully, He wavers, then commits.

Forging ahead, He strains.

Pushing past His doubts.

The lead, extending.

Pain, fading.

The moose within sight.

Survival, within grasp.

Broken are His chains.

Has He done it?

Lonesome, He falls.

Crawling, scrambling, fighting.

Strength, disappearing.

Cannot get up. Cannot look back.

The pack, closing in.

Fear, setting in.

Gravity, opposing.

Hope, fading.

Time, waning.

The pack, approaching, passing.

The win, slipping.

The prize, escaping.

Grief, the indescribable kind.

Real, tangible heartbreak.

Torn, He concedes.

A mental debt.

Back to reality.

Here in the den.

Where the shadows lie.

A deep sleep no more.

A Michigan winter.

Deep in the pines.

A deep breath.

The race awaits.

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