Wolf Moon

Ok, so people, I wrote this when I was like, in fifth grade, so don't blame me if it's bad. Please review, (I want to see if you guys thought it was totally cheesy or not...) :P

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Water lapped gently on and off the shores of Cape Cod beach. It was low tide and the moon was a bright sphere in the black, inky sky. Below the moon, right near the plants on the far side of the beach, a pack of wolves were lurking, looking for food, hoping for any chance to survive against the cold, cruel winter.

 Dead leaves fell from the trees and littered the ground as Thorn, a wolf, huddled in a circle in his mossy bed. The clearing he had made was messy, and there were thorns scattered around, making it hard to walk without getting a thorn embedded in his paw.  Thorn had been separated from his pack, a troop of gray, straggly hunters he terribly missed.

     Thorn was a black, grey and white wolf. He was rather young, but old enough to be a warrior. He was thin and good looking and he had a scar on his right leg on his ankle. He had a tinge of blue in his fur, and it was rare and laughed at too. Even though he was good looking and had lots of the things he wanted, he was not happy. He thought there was something better than good looking, but he hadn’t figured it out yet. Thorn glanced briefly around the clearing, his nose twitching from the cold. All of the sudden, Thorn felt the urge to walk. He walked on and on, never resting and letting his nose take him to a tall cliff. He began to climb it. He didn’t stop. He charged up and up, until finally, he reached the top. He stared straight at the moon, his sadness overwhelming him. As he stared, he let out a series of mournful howls, and then, a surge of anger took over him, replacing the sadness. Why did it have to be him to be separated from his pack? Why couldn’t it have been Prickle, the biggest bully in the pack? (Prickle was the only bully actually).  He howled once more, but there were no answering calls from his pack. All was silent. In despair, Thorn lay down and rested his head on his paws, shaking with fury and sadness. Suddenly, a loud call from about 100 miles away shook him to his feet. Joyous and bouncy all of the sudden, Thorn eagerly bounced once more to the top of the mountain and listened again. Howls greeted him, but he threw his head down in misery. That wasn’t what his pack call sounded like. But as he was scrambling down the cliff, a howl interrupted his thoughts. It was about 50 miles away. He stopped abruptly and listened again. It was his pack call. Louder than he could make it, he howled with all his might. The pack answered immediately, echoing into the dark sky. He jumped around, and called one more word.

                                                              “Wait”

Stomach growling with hunger, Thorn picked his way through the thorns.  He hoped his pack was waiting. They had told Thorn that there was a deadline. In 10 days, they would be moving on. If Thorn wasn’t with them at that time, they would leave to find a peaceful place to live in without him. But his pack gave Thorn hope. He pressed forward, leaving the thorny clearing behind and looking ahead in all the ways he could imagine. He pushed through the forest, and arrived in a grassy clearing. It was getting light. That meant 9 more days. The clearing was still dewy and wet. He raced across it. Zipping forward, he finally came to a skidding stop when a car raced by. He walked beside the street, on a weird little concrete street that no cars went on. Suddenly, a weird shaped animal screamed and pointed at Thorn, screaming his or her head off. He had figured it out. It was a man, and after screaming, he fell to the ground, his head hitting the concrete with a kerthunk. Thorn raced across the sidewalk and down an alley in the side of the road where no weird animals were lurking. He lay down on the concrete, panting heavily and shaking with nerves. He tried to pick up a scent of food. Mmmmm! A blueberry muffin!!! He ran out, following his nose until he came to a half-eaten blueberry muffin on the ground. He gobbled it in one swift bite and dashed back into the alley when a car zoomed by grunting and replacing the fresh air with the smelly, horrible smell of gas. He suddenly heard something. He turned around alertly, and there was a human in a white suit with a giant net creeping silently behind him. Kicking up dust with his legs in alarm, Thorn ran fast through a tiny opening in a wall and ran back into the field, scrambling into the woods and behind a rock. When the evil doctor/scientist (whatever) didn’t follow, Thorn crept out of the forest and dashed out into the open, nicely exposed, then, into the marsh on the other side of the meadow. The marsh was wet and muddy, and as he sloshed through it, he thought of what he had done with his pack. Suddenly, images of what thing made him and his packmates pried apart flashed in his mind. A giant car that chased them through the forest, Thorn running a different way, being separated from his pack. Everything was silent except for the chirping of the birds and the sloshing of feet and paws in the water. Wait… feet? He sniffed and swiveled his head around. Nobody was there. And all he could smell was the mucky water that clogged his nose up. Whatever that thing was, it was somewhere close to him. He tried to break into a run, but ropes pinned him down so he couldn’t move. Tail tucked between his legs in terror, he was pulled backwards with the net. Wait a minute… A net? It was the scientist guy.