There's a wolf inside me.
She growls hungrily, as though I swallowed her whole or she climbed inside me when we were both fresh cubs but she's been sleeping.
There's a wolf inside me.
The Devils are inside the walls. Clawing frantically from inside the thick, trembling prison of my body.
The wolf is inside me as my blood is, my mind, my soul if I have one.
The wolf is an organ of mine, integral and vital but previously dormant.
The sun rises without being asked, the wolf slept unaided. Domesticated by comfort and easy food.
The wolf inside me.
The wolf is awake.
Hunger makes her feral.
She makes me wild.
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