The Wolf and The Rose

With a sneeze The Wolf awoke, peering one eye open. He noticed a petal floating on the wind not far from his nose. He opened his eyes to a bold sun shining high in the blue sky. There was a powerful wind blowing over those vast plains. The ocean of grass spread so quickly and forcefully it was as if an albatross flew through their edges. He could see far into the distance the snow from the mountains descended here to ride the wind. The amalgam of ice and air made a great stage for the sunlight to perform on. He never grew tired of watching them, especially in the evening glow where against the emerging shadows of night they looked even more stunning.

 How long had it been since he left those woods below the mountain? He enjoyed waking up facing his past. The distance allowed him to see just how far he'd come. As he turned to continue his trek he knew he needn't look back as he would see the next day just how much he had covered and had left to cover.    

Yes, The Wolf still had a journey, but what had changed was something that couldn't be judged by foreign hands. They would merely pass through, being sure to respect the distance The Rose put between them and The Wolf. It was best this way, as the passersby and The Wolf alike were much too occupied travelling their own way for one to enter half-hearted into the realm of The Rose and leave moments later when it became impossible to endure. There were those that made the choice to enter his zone, and he allowed them. This was rare but when it happened, few if any ever wanted to leave, and The Wolf surely wouldn't have asked them too. 

The Rose was beautiful, dangerous, open and protective. The powerful tethers within the thorns of her vines made everything within her realm one with The Wolf like herself. She could just as quickly impale you with pride or prejudice depending on her mood. But the wounds you carried would never be held in hatred. Rather they served as a reminder of why she had chosen to appear and make herself known.                

 The Rose was more than a guardian, more than a treasure. She carried with her the pressure of The Storm, defended with the warmth of The White, was curious as The Hunger, and revealed the layers of the world as did The Darkness. The balance she provided to his life on its own made her invaluable in itself, but that would have made her simply an asset. Let it never be mistaken, The Wolf did not exist without The Rose.

 He had began his life running, away from pain and towards the promise of a destination like a fool. The Rose could have sprouted anywhere in the world and The Wolf would have inevitably found her, impatiently waiting to be complete. She could have appeared in any form from a sapling hidden under a rock, to a proud giant swallowing a forest on her own. But if he had found her this way...his story would be over. 

 Self. He had never forgotten this rule, and throughout his journey it had not been unproven. If anything it had been reinforced by what he learned. That's why The Rose could not grow anywhere else but within himself. He had set himself to his destination in The Rose, and with her resting firmly in his back, he would be sure that until the day he is buried, he would never end his journey to reach her. 

He emerged, surprised to find a new clearing, perhaps twice as large as the last. He was startled by a sound that rebound across this grand field. He remembered it fondly as it wailed from the mountains through the trees. Somewhere out there, someone else had found a melody worth singing along with. He stood but for only a moment, soaking in the sound, but only for a moment. 

The Rose was all he needed, if she were allowed to wilt...well it would mean the end of his days too. To be buried with nothing but The Rose on his corpse to remember him by, it could and would happen to him someday...but such thoughts faded in the world of The Wolf and The Rose.