Alphas in the woods

We stop- the scent grows stronger
the wind shifts, we must track
loping silently through Our home
this gift who has been sent
to Us, that the pack might survive
We keep low so that He will know
that We are worthy of accepting
His gift
His offering
His life
she tenses, my Alpha
it is not yet time; we must draw
closer
He hears Our pack in the distance,
seeking another- yet He is aware
on some level
that His time
approaches

©Owl 2002

        

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