Preparing for the season, we find ourselves packing up. Not stuff, I mean kindred spirits.
We know the sound of our pack when we hear it, listening for that certain sound, a recognizable wildness and independence.
I'd rather take some chances living on the edge, running wild in cool places than den up safely in a cage while my paws turn grey.
We've learned to watch for bait, usually there's a trap hidden under it.
Wolves may wander alone, but they have their most fun in their pack, accomplishing more, bringing down big game.
A word to the wise, if the howl doesn't sound right, give it a wide berth. The sun is shinning, the rain is refreshing, we den where we will.
Some call us wild. Others call us free.
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