the council of woodlanders
meets at the full moon, to
commence the trial of:

a wolf pup
learns from the first time he
pricks his pawpad on a river-rock,
when his yelps and cries are
returned with rebukes and nips
from his parents.
“dont rely on anyone
but yourself, pup,”
they scold
as the wolf pup licks his pawpad
and sniffles.
“the only one you
can rely upon in this world is
yourself. okay?”
the pup miserably agrees.

the wolf pup learns quickly
to stand alone, prideful.
to hide your wounds when you obtain them, and
to humble others when they
bear wounds of flesh
and soul.
he hunts alone,
travels alone, and howls under
the empty black sky
alone.

“you cannot rely on anyone
else but yourself,”
his mother wolf reminds him.
'yes, mother,' he replies,
and hides the bullet-hole he
obtained the prior sunset, when
his first hunt lead him
directly to trusting a Hunter,
who lured him to Her camp with
sweet words and honeyed bait,
then shot him.
he fled with a bleeding flank, then
licked his wounds in
mud and sticks, before limping
home. nothing happened, and no one noticed.

eventually,
the wolf pup meets a human
and though he bears his
fangs, snarling and biting
the human reacts kindly,
and slowly reaches
to pet his ears.
even as he grows used
to the company of the human,
his parents coldly remind him at every turn;
“do not depend on others.
you cannot trust this human,
no more than you
can trust another wolf.
the only thing you can trust to provide,
to protect and to conquer,
to feed and shelter,
is your own four paws.”

but the human
tends his wounds when he stumbles
into his camp, injured;
bandages his paw-pads
and softly reassures in glittering words.
the human does not bark when
he fumbles, does not
force him to hunt when he cries;
the human brings him
precious scraps of his own meal,
and gives him space,
and runs his flesh-paws
against the wolf pup’s matted fur.
the wolf pup is no longer a pup, though he
feels more like one
and less like a wolf every day;
yet still the pack admonishes him
within every turn.

“a human will abandon you;
he does not care for you
past your pelt.
nor do other wolves;
they will just as soon turn,
lace their claws within your belly
and rip you open for sustinance
than care for you,
pup.
you must always be
self-sufficient,
alone and trust only yourself.”

but what if he could take care of himself,
a true lone wolf, entirely self reliant;
rather, he was simply
sick and tired of it?
he watches the inky sky,
painted with swaths of stars alongside
the human, who fills him with
love and care.
he is sick of being alone,
of being a pack of one just to
prove that he can,
just to emulate others' ideal -
the loner wolf.
did not wolves run in packs?
must a wolf simply hunt and fight and
run and lick his wounds alone
live alone and breathe alone
and howl alone
and die alone?

‘i am
sick of relying on only myself;
it is not that i cannot
provide and protect myself,
do things piece by piece
and take a century what the birds
working together may weave in three
sunrises;
it is that i do not wish to do so any longer!’
the pup howled,
and buried his muzzle in the dirt.
is it so wrong to
share his burdens with another?
was it so shameful
to love - truly; to trust someone
with your organs, and sleep
next to them unguarded
underbelly exposed to their claws,
to howl at the moon alongside
of them, to hunt together
or to take turns hunting, when
one of you gets a
river rock stuck in your pawpad?

the wolf learned quickly
to lie when the hunter shot him,
when he fell into
a snare-trap, and came back
to the pack foreleg broken,
to downplay his
weakness and refuse to admit any mistakes,
lest he be reminded what a
failure, naive pup
that could not survive on his own
that he was. this was not
something that helped his survival,
but left him weaker and feeble,
more injured and helpless than ever.

but what he had learned
from the human,
was that some care for you
and will rinse the bullet-hole with
antiseptic,
will re-break your paw
and splint it this time, even
if it can never heal straight again.
and tend to you
when you cannot go on,
when you wander into a human’s camp
waiting for the mercy shot.

“and so,” the wolf cried
flinging his muzzle to the fullen moon
in a raw, tarnished howl
“must i be tried and found guilty
of weakness, when all i did
was share my struggles with one
who loves me?
does the council find me
guilty,
of being sick of being self reliant?”