in the dead of the cold northern winter night a wolf's breathe seemed to leak out of it's muzzle and nostril's as it ran humblily through the woods, gradually making it up a slope and it stared warmly at the moon, it was a dark siloutte against the thick snows. it howled a last bitter noise, and it's soul rose up to the sky and the wolf sank down to the ground feebily. for that was the wolf's last howl

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