Candid Corvid Productions

When it comes to war, it is best to target the true source of evil, rather than innocence.

The reason I dislike the game of Chess is that the goal is to achieve absolute slaughter.

As they say, “fight fire with fire,” fight Man with Man.

The scent of blood was thick in the air.

But it wasn’t the blood of an honest kill to keep a starving pack’s generations thriving.

It was the smell of a gunshot wound made at distance by cowardice, painfully festering.

Normally, she respected other predators, but those who hurt her had to be stopped.

Her wound kept seaping – wouldn’t heal with bullet still imbedded deep into flesh.

Metal poisoning was invading her system, forcing attention to keep fighting madness.

She knew who they were now, and knew how they could also be hunted – destroyed.

Her life and pack’s survival now at risk, her snarl grinned anticipating their fragile skin.

“We must take to the Higher Ground Together, my very brave and valid pack leader in training!”

Though I climbed to higher ground to escape man’s latest machinations, my second-in-command paced to find me.

Rather than greetimg me with wagging tail and renewed faith from my recent proven accomplishments, for a second time since the herd left I found myself backed up against a boulder defending myself under attack, pressed by fear in lost pack security.

As I self defended, I countered in every way my exhausted brain could think to dodge the blows against my reason, but youth’s unrelenting desperation kept hitting me in waves and my wearied mind took damage.

In last attempt to keep from harming them from my own fear’s reactivity and hurt rage at being turned against, I disengaged and slipped past them – and kept running to stay out of reach while as I distanced it hurt my soul to hear their howls of frustration.

I am accused now of abandoning my pack’s needs. I am accused of negligent leadership – as if I have not been right here protecting them and foraging resources for continued survival despite my untended injuries.

My heart feels outcast from my clan again, and it grieves me that youth is so inclined to turn against wiser elders during difficulties.

Man has been efficient in cutting families off from loving cohesion, ensuring our tribes remain divided and weakened in numbers.

At first, they murdered us out of fear and in the name of their progress. Now they starve us due to pure greed and intolerance – for anything Wild, Man must be sure to destroy.

Is it a type of afflicted illness?

For surely Man is insane.

Yet it is up to us to rally against this madness to find our peace again.

The leader’s second in command turned on her. “I need to lead, break out on my own. The events now occurring should be better under your control. Forget that you are a wolf and become human. For the pack, you must forget your rank and name. It is your fault that our game has been driven away.”

That’s how they do it.

The negative suppressive-oppressive powers of Man rip apart our cohesion by driving away the game.

So our packs separate into factions pressured by fear of hunger.

And turn upon each other.

It had felt good to feel her strength as she went after the underlings who had stepped out of bounds, not thinking in their excitement and over-anticipating.

Yet, she didn’t know how to reconcile the need to feel that rush of power through her limbs and the deep remorse of having frightened and confused relationships.

A self-acclaimed protective-defensive “tyrant” asserting pack adherence to her dominance in reaction to lack of control over extreme external circumstances and incensed anger over “alpha” males always choosing some simpering sheila.