Out come the wolves.
The yellow glare of starving eyes pierce through the thickening mist.
Patterns of paw prints overlapping the sent of fear.
Step after step,
growl after growl,
the darkness hides the advancing beasts.
But the mist dissipates,
and the moon illuminates the call of reality.
The howls of bowing wolves awakens the lycan within.
To fear the beast,
is to fear myself.
To accept the beast,
is to deny my humanity.