Here goes nothing... His warm breath reached the frigid spring air; small wisps of white mist elevated into the space around his face. Mid-nights frost covered the near vacant pasture that was now under his feet. With the slightest movement of his weight tiny, delicate crunches were made while the verdant grass was crushed. Once bright and joyful flowers, stood tall and frozen like a cement statue.
Dawn was approaching quickly. He stood alone in the field, surrounded only by the air, and the solitary oak tree up the field from him. The sun rose above the final hurdle of darkness. Light was cascading over the pasture, and illuminating all that it touched.
Time passed quickly and yet he still did not move from his place. With the sun now high in the sky the meadow before him changed. The wind caressed the field, through the lonely oak tree; spreading weaving through life. Once stiff, iced blades of grass swayed and danced in the breeze. Flowers now thawed, smiled at the touch of the sun. The smell of fresh grass and the flowers earthy perfume lingered in this nose. Ever so slowly he stalked towards the staunch, lonely tree.
For a single moment not a sound was made; not from wind, not even from his movements. Standing by the trunk he felt the dirt mould around his feet. The sensation was not new, but felt; as always, different. From this spot he could see the whole pasture. The wind whistled and rushed past him. He closed his eyes for a brief second, and let the wind engulf him; then he was simply gone. All the life, light and loneliness remanded, but he did not. The pasture sat untainted by his presence, all that he had left was the indents made in by his feet in the dirt by the oak tree.
The sun started to set on the field. As the sun moved across the sky, the impressions of his feet were struck with beams of light. The wolf’s four paw prints were still there.
