The Fire

The full moon rises calling to us
It's in our blood, our very matter.
Its pale light falls on the den
Like gentle sunlight on a lightly overcast day.

I look to the others sitting, waiting.
The pups seem oblivious,
They play and romp on the nearby grass,
Little growls come from the ball of fur they have become.

My mate looks up from where he lays next to me,
He slightly raises his head and lightly licks my cheek.
I make a soothing sound deep in my throat to reassure him.
My nose twitches as a strange smell reaches it.

It is the smell of fire and fear.
The scent is hot and heavy, almost overbearing.
I whimper and make a show of sniffing the air to warn the pack.
They all follow suite and smell the danger.

It is moving rapidly towards us, we need to move, quickly!
As we round up the terrified pups and start to leave,
I turn to see the flames lick the edge of the clearing.
I make a sad sound softly and run after the pack.

As we run, I bite my tongue and have
The taste of my own blood in my mouth.
We run until we find a safe den outside of the forest
And away from the danger area.

There we set about calming the pups and each other
With only our presences.
We gather and send our voices towards the moon
Then we wait to see if our cousins will respond