Abby, Age 12, Poynette, WI

The gangly, gray-colored brute sat upon the frozen snow, his cold gray eyes fixed on the ebony heap before him. Once in a while his pointed ears would swivel back and forth, but this was the only movement he cared to make. The sweet scent of death filled his nostrils, and his thick fur prickled in excitement. His sleek frame was covered in scarlet-red blood, and the snow surrounding the large mass was bloodstained as well. As he watched the mangled black object, he licked his chops savagely, shuffling his front paws in the deep snow.

The scene told the whole story, about the two brutes that began a fight, a fight to the death. The gray brute had obviously won, for the other lay crippled and lifeless before him.

Suddenly, he rose to his feet, his eyes still staring suspiciously at the deceased wolf that lay in the snow. He edged cautiously toward the bundle of black fur and warm blood, his tail raised in dominance. Again, the scent of death flooded his nostrils, and he panted in satisfaction. He had conquered this terra! He had defeated its mighty leader! His tail began to wag, for the joy he felt inside needed to be exposed. He pointed his nose toward the colorless sky and emitted a long, joyous howl, for this terra now belonged to him. After his triumphant voice became sore, his gray eyes fell upon the black mass, still lying lifeless on the frozen earth. He decided to leave the brute, for the coyotes or grizzlies would surely claim him as their own. With that, the victorious alpha turned on his heel and jogged into the spruce trees, leaving nothing but his bloodstained tracks in the snow.

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