Plains calm, she stands.
To the east dark clouds roll in; soot-stained kin crest the horizon.
To the west dark clouds roll in; mud-marbled wolves crest the horizon.
Hooves stampede; paws chase.
The sky thunders in staccato time with the herd—the pack—rushing towards her.
She should run, as they run; she should not stay.
Before her a rabbit; hunger.
Howls erupt; shouts.
The wolves lumber—loping paws, erect ears—as their lips curl; the kin canter—sharp hooves, narrowed eyes—as their teeth flash.
Growls; screams.
The thunder rattles the world and she—
Gold meets pink meets blue.
They—wolf, she, kin—are connected.
The realization causes lashing rain to bleed from the sky; the hunger interrupts.
The rabbit’s ears pin back; its eyes widen.
Wolf surges forward; kin spurs onward.
She rushes in, too.
Between them the rabbit is limp; three sets of teeth sink in.
A lightning strike flashes down, tears the halves of the world into two.
Wolf; kin.
She is both; they are her.
A lightning strike flashes down, marries the halves of the world into one.