Alphas in the woodsWe stop- the scent grows strongerthe 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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