the guardian and the rose

Out from the darkness steps a towering wolf. Fur of liquid shadow. Crimson eyes powerfully chaotic. Wicked grin crosses his maw. Time to feed. Nostrils flare at the scents on the night air. Smaller prey will do him no justice. To be sated he must truly hunt. Like true dominance, a meal is always sweetest when fought for. To prey on the weak is beneath this noble beast. Though shadowed is his body, his soul shines brighter then the Hunter's Moon; his power and strength even more so. Silently he moves through his environment. Leaving no visible trail in his wake. Seamlessly blending into the darkness around him. Being invisible was his specialty. A trained defense mechanism as well as crucial hunting implement. Alone he hunts. Not out of choice but out of necessity. Born with no pack of his own he raised and taught himself how to survive the world as it has become. He stops abruptly. Something is close. A power potential equal to his own. The breeze brings scents of lesser beings as well. Is it intruders? Creatures come for the glory of trying to kill "The Guardian"? A fleeting idea passes through his mind. Maybe it is a potential mate surrounded by pups attempting to raise their stature and their blood pressure. Quickly he dismisses this idea out of fear of his own hopes. Curiously and quietly hidden he investigates. In a small clearing he happened across a comical site of two "canines" in a heated display of masculine flare. At first glance it appeared to be a lone lanky wolf pitted against a scrawny coyote. Upon further attention the smaller was noticed to be in fact just a wiry little runt of a wolf pup. The taller and far more arrogant was obviously an older wolf, given away by the speckle of grey in his coat. Sensing the power involved "The Guardian" felt no threat, though they were evenly matched for each other. This ritual of male dominance was nothing new, but yet very odd. The little ones were in actuality fighting over a flowering Rose bush. This beautiful creation held only a single solitary Rose, but it seemed to radiate light like it were blossoming fire. Scratching, clawing, biting, yelping, and even spraying the pups continued. Obscene “wolf speak ” being thrown around randomly but always returning to a chant of MINE! MINE! Soon a full battle erupts. The hormones and stances showing the possibility of death as easy as of submission. Every movement countered until Lady Luck intervenes. The Arrogant One gets a clean but low blow. Suddenly the littlest wolfling falls beaten. Enjoying an early victory the taller bastard begins to strut and howl. Only then did the truth of the Rose show itself. Leafy tendrils reach out softly caressing the cheek of the fallen pup. A soft whispered apology is carried across the wind. The exotic scent of that flower finally hits "The Guardian's" nose. The power he smells pulls at and warms his heart just as it pulls at these little boys' loins. Until that moment, that scent had been drowned out by the stench of the battling lupines' tainted souls and filthy motivations. Energy flares. Just as the battle had never happened, the runt stands. Renewed vigor and body fuel him to pick up where he left off. Truly confused "The Guardian" moves closer.

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8/14/2019 The Guardian and the Rose

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Out from the darkness steps a towering wolf.Fur of liquid shadow.

Crimson eyes powerfully chaotic.Wicked grin crosses his maw.

Time to feed.

Nostrils flare at the scents on the night air. Smaller prey will do him no justice. To be sated hemust truly hunt. Like true dominance, a meal is always sweetest when fought for. To prey on the weak isbeneath this noble beast. Though shadowed is his body, his soul shines brighter then the Hunter's Moon;his power and strength even more so.

Silently he moves through his environment. Leaving no visible trail in his wake. Seamlesslyblending into the darkness around him. Being invisible was his specialty. A trained defense mechanism aswell as crucial hunting implement. Alone he hunts. Not out of choice but out of necessity. Born with nopack of his own he raised and taught himself how to survive the world as it has become.

He stops abruptly. Something is close. A power potential equal to his own. The breeze bringsscents of lesser beings as well. Is it intruders? Creatures come for the glory of trying to kill "TheGuardian"? A fleeting idea passes through his mind. Maybe it is a potential mate surrounded by pupsattempting to raise their stature and their blood pressure. Quickly he dismisses this idea out of fear of hisown hopes. Curiously and quietly hidden he investigates.

In a small clearing he happened across a comical site of two "canines" in a heated display ofmasculine flare. At first glance it appeared to be a lone lanky wolf pitted against a scrawny coyote. Uponfurther attention the smaller was noticed to be in fact just a wiry little runt of a wolf pup. The taller andfar more arrogant was obviously an older wolf, given away by the speckle of grey in his coat. Sensing thepower involved "The Guardian" felt no threat, though they were evenly matched for each other.

This ritual of male dominance was nothing new, but yet very odd. The little ones were inactuality fighting over a flowering Rose bush. This beautiful creation held only a single solitary Rose, butit seemed to radiate light like it were blossoming fire. Scratching, clawing, biting, yelping, and evenspraying the pups continued. Obscene “ wolf speak ” being thrown around randomly but always returningto a chant of MINE! MINE!

Soon a full battle erupts. The hormones and stances showing the possibility of death as easy asof submission. Every movement countered until Lady Luck intervenes. The Arrogant One gets a clean butlow blow. Suddenly the littlest wolfling falls beaten. Enjoying an early victory the taller bastard begins tostrut and howl. Only then did the truth of the Rose show itself. Leafy tendrils reach out softly caressing

the cheek of the fallen pup. A soft whispered apology is carried across the wind.The exotic scent of that flower finally hits "The Guardian's" nose. The power he smells pulls at

and warms his heart just as it pulls at these little boys' loins. Until that moment, that scent had beendrowned out by the stench of the battling lupines' tainted souls and filthy motivations. Energy flares. Justas the battle had never happened, the runt stands. Renewed vigor and body fuel him to pick up where heleft off. Truly confused "The Guardian" moves closer.