Even When It Disappears, It's Still Watching Over You

The night was cold, there wasn’t a cloud above. Only the stars and bright full moon looked over the mountains. A wolf stood at the stream, bending over to get himself a drink, he noticed a reflection in the water. It was the most wonderful sight. He’d seen it a million times before, yet the feeling never faded. The moon was gleaming, almost comforting to the old wolf. His black coat shined in the light, his sharp blue eyes told a story all by themselves. For a moment of time, staring off into the moon would take him into a world of his own. It was a place where only wolves dreamed of during the night. A few minutes had passed when all of a sudden he let out the most powerful howl.

With one swift step he was already in full sprint, running in an open plain where the moon overlooked him. One by one wolves appeared behind him, never running beside or ahead of him. A sign of respect. It was his pack, everyone knew their place. They must have been running for hours when the old wolf came to a stop, letting out one final howl towards the moon before they all settled down to rest. While the others slept, the old wolf stood on top of the rocks, just staring at the moon. Soaking in every moment while it still lit up the dark sky.

He fell asleep reminiscent of the night where he was on his own, looking for a place to fit in, he ended up running into some wolves from another pack. They were sure to remind him he wasn’t welcome. He was outnumbered and surrounded, that didn’t scare him in the least though. As one of the wolves leaped towards him, he met him half way in the air, pinning him to the ground and clinching onto the wolf’s neck. The other wolves stood around him in shock, not knowing whether to run away or attack. He looked down at the wolf whose life was now in his grasp. After several minutes of a stand off, he loosened his grip around the wolf’s neck, letting him go back to his pack. The old wolf retreated back to some rocks, where now his life was theirs’ to decide. Maybe it was a sign of respect for each other, maybe he was just lucky. But the pack abandoned him where he stood. In his eyes he had escaped death for the first time, and it sure wouldn’t be his last.

A few years had passed since the encounter, by now he had his own pack. Most of them he had met on his own, sometimes they were in their own little group. They all saw something in him, something that many of them couldn’t explain. He wasn’t just an ordinary wolf. He was brave, he was strong, and he was compassionate. Don’t mistake his compassion as being soft, other wolves inside the pack had challenged his authority before.

With each match he began too not only over power them but was also very cunning. It was as if it was all a game, he loved that the fact he was so strong, but he knew if this pack was going to survive with him as the leader, then he would have to use his wits.

Once while on a search for food, the pack came across a bear hunting for fish in the stream. The bear must have had enough to feed the whole pack. The old wolf sent almost all the other wolves behind the bear, as they moved into place, the old wolf ran towards the edge of the stream where the bear stood. He began barking as loud as possible, trying his best to get the bear’s attention. The bear angrily turned around facing him, standing as tall as his legs would allow, trying to intimidate the old wolf. With all the bear’s attention away from the fish, the wolves sneaked in to steal it from right under his nose. When everyone was safely away, the old wolf ran in the opposite direction, drawing the bear away from his friends before he noticed what had occurred.


The old wolf’s stamina was no match; he was able to outrun the bear, who eventually gave up. He returned to his pack awhile later. One of the wolves took a fish from the pile and placed it in front of the old wolf. He would be the first to eat. Something that would become a tradition throughout the pack.


As a pup, the old wolf grew up watching his father as a leader of his own pack. He learned all of the traditions of a wolf clan at a very early age. Some he’d eventually instill as a leader. It’s also where he experienced his first full moon, he watched his father gaze up in the sky with so much awe. He wondered what could possibly be going through his head. The old wolf never quite understood the beauty of the moon, not until the first time he was with his pack.An overwhelming feeling came over him, a sense of pride, or maybe accomplishment. He couldn’t control himself. Letting out the strongest howl that startled everyone, all of them looked at him in amazement. They would never understand what he was feeling. That night seemed to go on forever. The old wolf yearned to be closer to the moon with every passing second, though he knew it wasn’t possible.

Through the years, the old wolf’s appearance had changed. Gray hair would cover his face, his black coat faded. A scar covered his right eye now, from an encounter with another wolf. Losing most of the sight in that eye. Even with his limitations, it didn’t stop him from doing everything necessary to protect his pack.

Just before daybreak, the old wolf awoke and stared up into the sky. Admiring the moon one last time before he gently shut his eyes and fell asleep once again. As all of the other wolves awoke a few hours later, they noticed that he had not. Which was odd, he was always the first up. He laid on top of the rocks motionless, yet peaceful. One of the wolves playfully nudged the old wolf with his nose, pawing at his body him over and over again, trying to wake him up. The playful attitude quickly turned into a desperate attempt to wake the old wolf up. There was nothing, no sign of movement at all, he wouldn’t budge.

The wolves stood around him; all at once they raised their heads to the sky and let out a howl of mourning. Even though the sun had risen, the Moon was still visible underneath the old wolf’s lifeless body. Maybe it was just coincidence, or maybe it was just the old wolf’s way of showing that no matter what he’d always be looking over his pack.