I have seen the fear it leaves in the hearts of those who trespass.
The fear is the fuel that fires the beast.
It prowls, basking in the moonlights deep ominous glow.
Watch it hunt,
I dare you.
A toast of celebration to anyone who catches the eye of the beast,
and lives to tell the tale.
He is not fussed with man,
there is little that is amazing about a man, except his fear.
He waits for the perfect woman, for she is great at all.
Hackles high, the scent is there, the meadow grass dances with the wind.
The wolf howls in hunger, as his hunt finally begins.