The small fox stiles stalked the earth,
small ginger paws skittered with mirth.
His bright gold eyes danced from tree to tree,
skirting along his home beneath the canopy.
A tail trailed his small self, thin and sleek,
a nose pointed and posed itching to seek,
ears that flung forward, begging for the sounds,
of his friends; the ghost of the wolves and the hounds.
his body perked up, his figure limber.
springing off, darting between odd timber.
ahead sprang the wolves and the hounds on a hunt,
and so the fox joined at the rear as the runt.
because despite the fox being a blessing forgotten,
he'd follow his pack till his soul itself grew rotten.
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The Ghost of Wolves and Hounds - TEEN WOLF - »»poetry««
FanfictionShort poetry in which stiles is a fox and he follows the wolves path.
