Preface

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Revised

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Revised

There's an instinct in wolves.

Imprinted in their genes, tattooed in the beast's biology for thousands of years.

Wolves attack when hungry—when they want something, be it flesh or bone.

The creatures take careful steps. Paws turn light, too quiet for one to know a wolf trails closely behind. It's almost always too late when one discovers the lingering beast. The animal presses their paws in just the right place, forcing the crackle of a leaf to hear a scared heart thump frantically.

Wolves like the way adrenaline pumps in their prey. They watch the poor souls crumble on themselves, falling over limb and nails and desperation to escape the inescapable. Fear smells like sweat, and sweat smells like hearts breaking apart—almost dissolving.

Wolves play with their food, allow them to run, pretend they have a chance.

All wolves are the same.

Some are closer to a real monster, and others hide in sheep skin. 

 

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