Three little wolf cubs ran about a large meadow that sloped down into a hill. Flowers of all colours dotted the magnificent field, and the wolves made joyful sounds as they tumbled and ran.

What they didn't notice, though, was that at the end of the hill was a gorge. A deep gorge with violent water. They were having so much fun, they never noticed the water's crashing.

The first cub stopped, thinking she heard something, but she ignored her judgement. She continued to run, so fast she tumbled over the edge with a sickening wail.

The other two, her siblings, listened gruesomely as their sister fell, fell, fell...and was washed away into the unknown, merciless world of terrors.

The cubs fleed in fright as a voice whispered like the wind:

lost...

Gone...

But we are merciless.

We do not stop when we see a child.

The cubs shivered from head to tail, and it was only more nightmarish as a shadow loomed over and wails slipped from the little ones' lips.

Run.

Hide.

And the wolves did. Turning tail, they fleed between and under a canopy of lush trees. As the past, though, the trees wilted and died, shriveling and bending down in sadness and defeat.

Then, a hawk dove down through the trees, cawing. The beast spread its regal wings as it tore one of the little cub's fur out, clawing at the baby's eye am crying out in glee.

It wasn't glee the wolves cried I'm though, but pure agony and terror.

Their wails and shreiks echoed through the grove, and all the birds took off and fled in a series of claws and singing. One creature alone stayed perched in the trees- a beautiful Blue Jay, their wings folded by their sides as they sang a melody of grief to remember the cub by.

This silenced the last cub, the one that had witnessed both their siblings die painfully. The hawk cleared out, leaving the corpse of the wolf baby.

The body was bloody and limp, and the wolf shut his eyes and howled in grief. The howl rang out through the forest, and every animal stopped and wailed greif.

Roars, caws, tweets, chatters, and all sorts of magic sounds lifted in the clear ping until night, when the moon's had risen and the stars shone.

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Word count: 391

Characters: they were each anonymous in this story.

Inspiration: my dark mind was thinking about forests and wolves and fields, and then this was born.