The Wolf

The Wolf He emerges quietly from his forest his paws padding precariously through the snow searching for his next prey camouflaged like little grey specks against a blanket of white his eyes glinting in the sun like beady azure crystals he lies low so as not to be seen and he waits silently without moving without making a single sound he waits for his meal after hours a hare hops by just in front of his nose so oblivious to its own nearing demise and within seconds the hare is gone without so much as a glimpse of the wolf he moves as fast as the bitter winds all you hear is the sound of his snarling, sabre-like teeth smashing together and devouring his prey