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Snout up pointing at the moon, a note escapes and more and more tumble out until the night is alive with the cried notes of the wolf’s song. A strange wolf pads up and sits next to the first wolf the first wolf points his nose heavenward again and as he starts to howl again the second wolf joins in the melody and they both sing their music to the stars, a war cry, a wolf’s song. Soon about ten wolves are sitting in the circle singing a fearful song. A cry for freedom from Hunters stealing their cubs, a cry for warmth in the freezing snow but most of all, ah above all things a cry for freedom from Man. What a strange choir they make singing the song of the wild, singing as haunting war-cry. The circle of wolves stop howling one by one and, standing up and stretching they pad off back to their dens to their cubs and mates, the few that are left alive. At least, all but the first wolf. He has no one any more, his soul mate was shot by hunters and his cubs were taken to live a life locked behind bars. He lies down in the trickling rain having sung his last song.

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