Little lone wolf walking in the woods with nothing but the trees beside her. The wolf has no one, for everyone had left her. She doesn’t know why she’s alone; but she is. She searches for places to belong; but she fits in nowhere. She howls at the moon down below the trees, instead of howling above on the mountain tops. She howls to find someone who will hear her cries; her cries for help. No one listens. She returns to the place she was born and waits, waits for someone to come back, waits for someone to tell her it will be alright.



She sits and waits there every day. No one comes. Again she howls at the moon, with a mournful tone intended. She wants to find her way, but she does not know where her heart belongs.



One last howl at the moon before she gives up all hope. The moon is not out tonight. Even the moon had left her. Down below the cave she heads, for her day is over, and the moon had disappeared. There was no reason for her to stay awake any longer.



That night she hears something in the distance. Leaves crunching; a stick breaking. Who’s there? Who could it be? What could it be? The sun rises and to her surprise, she no longer finds herself alone.