My heart pounds against my chest,
like a hundred native drums.
Dark clouds crowd the night sky,
blocking the moonlight from my eyes.
The dirt filled the spaces between my toes,
as I run faster through the trees.
I can hear the wolves behind me:
tracking, sniffing, hunting, me.
The first flashes fill the sky,
just enough to light my path.
A wall.
Solid stone intruding from the bedrock.
Trapped.
The howls echo through the winds,
a dinner bell, for I am the main course.
Fear fills my insides,
running through every pathway within.
I can either pray to not become prey,
Or climb for survival.
My nails dig but despite the grip,
they can not hold onto such a surface.
Fear vibrates through my bones,
But I turn and face death with both fists up.
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