To run with the wolf was to run in the shadows, the dark
ray of life, survival and instinct. A fierceness that was both proud and
lonely, a tearing, a howling, a hunger and thirst. Blessed are they who hunger
and thirst. A strength that would die fighting, kicking, screaming, that
wouldn't stop until the last breath had been wrung from its body. The will to
take one's place in the world. To say, I am here. To say, I am.
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