You were a wounded sparrow in the wood
Red haired and blue eyed
Your wing broken but not your singing voice
So beautiful the sound, with its mournful tendrils
It brought a family of wolves to play
They would yelp and snap at one another the way wolves do
Rolling and fighting and falling asleep in one anothers paws for the cold north mountain night
The sparrow wandered each day if she were to be eaten by one of the wolves
By the black or smaller grays
Then one day in the winter solstice she woke up to find one morning that she had turned into a sleek gray
With the most beautiful voice that could make birds sing
She faded into the most with the family of wolves trailed by the velveteen sound of her own four paws
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