my throat is raw.
my face is cold with tears.
he lets me cry on him.
i can still imagine the sound, the smell.
i force the bile down.
he whines.
i lift myself onto his back.
he pads back to the cave.
the wolves are done with the young one.
only his bones are left.
❄️
YOU ARE READING
Prince of Wolves
Short Storyi hear them howl, for them. for me. for flesh. for blood. and i wonder, i wonder if i'm supposed to feel so empty, so cold. ❄️ #674 in short story - july/august 2017 #216 in my youth - august 2018 -completed
