The man was an alpha wolf, he held a pack of keen creatures, they’d fought together, hunted and ate together as a pack, they were a family that survived together.

No being alive would’ve imagined this alpha being a lone wolf one day to come, the images and thoughts of his life as the apex being done seeped through his mind, sending slight but steady chills along its spine, he remembers the natural pain, the sparking sound of the log from the tree connecting with his rear leg, he howls and growls for the help of his own, the whimpers and cries of the pack not being able to help, a decision was to be made, before they were to all be faded by the hands of the hunters, this alpha yelped with all his strength “RUN!” to his pack, and like that they were gone.

He was done, left for dead, dragging himself forward with his two front legs in excruciating pain, the images drift away as this lonely wolf takes his last limps to the edge, peering over he see’s the moon rising to its peak.