The dew was frosting on the chilly grass, the morning light still pale.
The wolf was waiting by the garden gate. His teeth were long and bright, his tail swishing silent in the unmown grass. His unblinking eyes shone like twin moons, luminous.
The child was four years old.
The mother tore her housedress, weeping, to try and wrap the bleeding unknown wound. Her voice quavered, saying, "Hush, hush now."
The child made no sound.
The father, superstitious, saw the swollen moon there in the dawning sky. His aim did not waver, his arm true with his trusted gun.
The wolf, his hunger sated, his fine-toothed smile stained red with sweet new blood, bowed his canine head and did not try to run.
The child did not look away.
The wolf died there by the garden gate, and died a wolf, two hours too soon, before the moon had set.
Elsewhere in that sleepy town, not long after, a little girl cried for her father to come home.
In the circle of his mother's shaking arms, the four year old child slept.
wow...que triste...;_; es de un fic llamado 'The hours f the Wolf' de llamajoy
Tsubasa tries her ber best every day, loves to sleep till noon, read tons of good stuff and eat sweet sweets. Hate cheese with all her heart and love yaoi with all her might.
