His ears twitched, listening for anything dangerous. His eyes, quick and yellow, watched for the return - into the warren.
The moonlight glints into the soft, warm hole; startling the illuminated, ruby glow of his bushy tail, spilling it into a flash of white.
He, with the others:
the females and the smaller, weaker male:
mews and cries for his mother; to bring a hot, bleeding, just-living taste of flesh.
His tiny, black nose smells whisps of the day’s icy snow and a faint memory of noon’s lonely, arching practise leaps.
The smell of rabbit, of bird, of insect, the stench
of Wolf
underneaththe ferns and above the dead, frozen leaves
fills the quick, fraglie chest.
The emoty, soft, furry belly is warm, and close, as those around him; hushed, nervous, sleepless in wait of mother's return.
