We are a loving family but in our darkest hour we become monsters and we tear each other apart. But no matter how much blood is spilled we still come back to our human selves. Only scares and wounds are left to remind us what we really are, a pack of wolves. We may fight, we may cry, and we may rip each other apart but we will always be a pack and we always have each other’s back. I fought, and I will keeping fighting until the day I die, but now that the pack has split into two there is no need to fight. No need to argue. No need to go on. I am a sad wolf. The shewolf has ran off and I don’t know if she’ll ever come back. So every night I’ll howl to the moon hoping she will hear my cry and come back home.