When one pictures nights when the full moon presents itself, more often than not they will immediately think of wolves howling away towards the heavens. So much, that sometimes one imagines the crying of the beasts even though there was not a sound to be heard.
Tonight was one such night. Somewhere, within the guarded premises of a human town. One canine perks his ears at a sound familiar to him, a long, long time ago. So long, that he imagined that he had forgotten how it had sounded like.
Howls, long and mournful, like a tribute to the ancestors of his kind; but somehow also deep and filled with pride, proud, to be born as one of the pack.
Pride, which he had thrown away ever since he left his freedom, bound by a human for reasons not even himself can comprehend.
As much as he missed his freedom, leaving the pack was something he had never regretted. In that past life of his he was already a lone wolf, living solitarily in the shadows of the pack; so when he decided to leave he did not have any family or friendship ties to break.
Back then, freedom was like air to him. Giving up his freedom for this human merely meant this human’s existence had replaced the importance of that in his life. Even now if he was to be separated for any period of time from his human, suffocation tormented him. Only by her side can he breathe and rest easy.
He sat up and stared at the moon, willing himself to remember how to howl again.
In the distance, the strong voice of the alpha of his former pack rang through the silence, informing the weaker packs of his existence. Challenging, even, any males who dared to take his place.
He let out a low whimper, as his howl got stuck in his throat.
Coughing, clearing his windpipe, he tried again.
This time, a clear, deep howl.
A warning, to his brother, to not lead the pack too near to the only thing he held dear.
A guard dog may not be able to win against a wild wolf, but that fact changes when one party has something he deems worthy to protect even at the cost of his life.