Howl

She was feral. She was wild. She was free. She felt everything -- from the damp grass and dirt under her paws, to the cool winter breeze running through her thick coat, to the pale light of a full winter's moon shining down, lighting her path. She heard the wind carrying the words of the trees from one to another, the solid pounding of her heart in time with the pounding of her pack’s paws, the whispered words of the rushing river. She dodged trees, holes, fallen branches, logs, and bushes faster than the beat of a hummingbird’s wings. As she reached the top of a hill, she slowed her pace, but her heart did not. With the light of the moon shining down on her, she tilted her head back until her eyes were full with the moon, she opened her mouth, and let out a long and echoing howl.