The wolves are coming to tear me apart.

My scent defining who I am,

caught and carried to them,

ordering their movements

to one they know as prey—

weak, lost, alone.

But that is their nature,

and one can’t be angry at them.

I used to be the predator.

Manipulation my weapon,

drawing in those of lesser species

only to show my true colors

when I pounced.

Survival of the fittest.

Yet here I don’t match up.

I am fragile in comparison to these.

Equal in the eyes of the mouse,

yet staggered at the throne.

The wolves have arrived to tear me apart.

The sea of pines could do little

to slow the rowing of the pack.

My legs cry out to run,

yet I choose to plant myself

amongst the shadows of the grass.

Their presence weighs in the forest,

perceptible by intuition

though evading sight.

Quiet stomps hiding them

until their moment approaches.

Growls begin to reverberate through the air

coming to knock at my ears.

Flight is futile.

A miracle of escape here

would never save me from myself.

The wolves sprint

to tear me apart.

One last moment

until my due reward.

My eyes flutter

across the scene.

I hadn’t even noticed

the clear sky today.