A deafening silence fell upon the woods as a greenish mist creeped in between the haunting dark pine trees. An injured lone wolf hurried along the depressing black marsh of the swampy ground below. The eerie silence was suddenly broken by a thundering crackle of lightning streaking across the night sky which quickly filled with thick clouds followed by the pounding of rain bashing the ground below, turning the marsh to a flooded swamp.
Wandering along the now flooded floor, the lone wolf drove on. Marching home. Pushing through the dark. To reach his home. Tired as he was from escaping the darkness, the thunder, and the rain. He strode on. Not letting up even though his body yearned for the restful abyss of death.
He needed to reach the reclusive safety of the cabin before the men caught up with him. His motivation came in part from his fear of the darkness, but also from the knowledge that raging men had no thought to reason with a beast like himself, that is what pushed him on to the cabin. If he could just wait there until dawn. then maybe, just maybe, he could sneak his way back into the town without raising much suspicion, but the scars left from the mens’ pitchforks on his upper right shoulder may be noticed, and he had no story prepared to explain it, so all he could do was hope enough time remained to heal. “holdst out lighteth, for i neede time to heall from the horrid menes wounds”. he cried out to the dawning horrison.