By Grizz Ball.

Dogs howling at the moon
precipitating something’s doom
something moves through the night
something there    just out of sight.

Blood falling from the sky
heralded by the banshee’s cry
something creeping along the ground
ready to make a killing bound.

Branded with an evil rune
she hunts beneath a gibbous moon
slinking past the hanging tree
hungering for blood is she.

Licking lips and fangs so white
ready to administer the killing bite
paws pad on leaf litter    deep
making it easy on prey to creep.

On her fur the dew starts to condense
as she nears the village’s wooden fence
food aplenty she knows is here
easier than hunting fleet footed deer.

Carefully she tastes the air with her nose
she can tell the flock is close
mouth watering    food on her mind
she moves quickly  leaving caution behind.

With the lamb just about in her maw
she knows she has broken the principal law
backing off brain full of fear
around her armed men appear.

She turns to run between fallen logs
too late she sees they’ve brought hunting dogs
no help from a mate or pack she’ll find
humans hunted down all of her kind.

With a growl the dogs are upon her
tearing out large lumps of fur
her skin tears between white teeth
exposing muscle and bone beneath.

She’s having trouble drawing breath
as she’s dragged down to her death
she dies with the men all jeering
her last sense is them all cheering

But hidden deep in a hole in the fen
a litter of pups in her secret den
all hungry and waiting in vain
for their mother to come home again


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