Let me tell you a story,
a time of no glory.
A time of rats’ feast;
When owls sit and wait, awake and keen.

Wandering in the forest,
a presence of fear and dread.
Lurking in the unseen:
the wolves howl and snarl.

The moon is the only light,
full and lit.
Fear has its’ grasp upon you.
“Run!”

The hunter is now the hunted,
the traps all snapped.
Yet no prey to be found,
but you.

Wolves never seen before,
the size of man.
Ravaging the terrain around them,
and soon to be you.

Howling is the last you’ll hear.
Your last words but a scream.
Entrails will cover this trail.
Your existence ended by claws.

Not by man, not by wolf.
A thing of both.
A raged unnatural beast.
The greatest of hunters.

The moon is their power.
The moon is their reason.
The moon is their life.
And you thought it was your guiding light.

No angel can save you,
for even the Heavens fear these beasts.
No demon will make a pact for your life,
for these hounds are Hells’ work.

These wolves know no end.
You’ll be dead.
The speed of Mercury himself.
Do you really think you can escape?

Rip, bite, shred, and mangle.
The cycles of their mind,
their only thoughts.
Devour.

The end.