In the dead of the night,

The wolf pranced through the trees

His jaws were clamped

While his body weaved

The wolf was a brute

With a thirst to fight.

As the first opponent took his place

With a flick of his tail, the wolf raced

The two collided, squealing in the shadows

The cunning figure turned to face

"I do not fear you, for I am the fox!"

Came the challenger from his place.

Despite the mighty voice that was heard,

The fight once again became a blur.

As the two fought till the moon had plunged away,

It was undecided who would be seen by the light of day.

The forest believes it was the wolf who had won,

For he had possessed far more strength than the tricky one.

But the wind said different,

The wolf was the loser,

For the fox had become the terrifying bruiser.

Though the wounds were deep

The had fox won

For he had not been willing to be the unlucky one.