The Sleeping Wolf

I reread the classic White Fang by Jack London over the holidays.
I was pleasantly surprised when I got to the last chapter – it is entitled The Sleeping Wolf.

Then it was that White Fang struck. He gave no warning, with no snarl anticipated his own action. Into the air he lifted his body in the spring that landed him on the strange god’s back. White Fang clung with his fore-paws to the man’s shoulders, at the same time burying his fangs into the back of the man’s neck. He clung on for a moment, long enough to drag the god over backward. Together they crashed to the floor. White Fang leaped clear, and, as the man struggled to rise, was in again with the slashing fangs.
~White Fang, by Jack London


The Pond

Featured Photo – Click to View.

If I leave here tomorrow
Would you still remember me?
For I must be travelling on, now,
There’s too many places I haven’t seen
And if I stayed here with you, now
Things just wouldn’t be the same
Well I’m as free as a bird now,
And a bird you can not change.

~Lynyrd Skynyrd