I was so focused that I almost missed the pack of wolves that sprinted past their paws so adapted to the ground they were almost silent, I watched as a wolf started moving into the morning light. She is a white-silver, fur glossy and thick. Her paws kiss the earth with a lightness and there is a serenity in her gaze. I stay still, for if I move she will take flight into the trees. I breathe slow and let time slow down, taking photographs with only my eyes. Perhaps tonight I will dream of being as free as she, out here with nature, living with her family, The wolf is as white as the snow. Her fur, short over her body and longer at the neck, is smooth and shiny. Her stance is confident and body muscular, this girl knows how to take care of herself. She regards me fleetingly before heading back the way she came, further up the mountain toward the snow-line. Her movements are fluid and without apparent effort; while I huff and puff to climb a few yards she just goes up her limbs were the finest machines every made.
