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WOUNDED EAGLE
He had travelled for three days now in search of prey.
He'd seen lean times before but this was different.
It was like he was alone on the earth.
Wasn't there an old watering hole somewhere in the direction of the setting sun?
Yes, he thought he remembered it from a wandering once, long ago.
Although that journey was vague in his mind.
It was almost as if he had been there before --and yet-- he had never been there at all.
Those settlers he had listened to that one night.
Didn't they speak of such things?
That night that he'd gotten tired of listening to the prairie winds howl for once; because normally, oh how he loved that song, that sound.
But that night, he didn't mind the sound of human voices; the glow of their campfire; the little childrens' laughter as they played.
Didn't they speak about such things?
Deja vu, they had called it.
But then, he was talking foolishness.
For he was not one of them.
And he could not understand their language any more than they could understand his.
Just that once, the timber wolf got a tear in his eye and he thought about how strange it must be, to be one of them.
To laugh and to love.
But that was the only tear that El Lobo had ever shed.
There was no point in thinking back to when he was with the pack.
When he had the company of other wolves.
That was a very distant dream.
He had been alone for a long time now.
And he was a warrior.
And he needed no one.
And alone he may have been; but oh, how he loved the solitude and the moonrise on a New Mexico night.
And he would sit on the bluff and behold it.
And something within him stirred.
And he knew his Creator.
And he honored Him.
And the sound that he made sent a chill up the spine of every creature within many miles.
For there is not a sound on God's earth like the sound of a lone wolf baying at the moon.
On padded paws he turns toward the watering place.
And he climbs among the steep places.
And he treads through the valleys.
And it's not much further now, is it?
But another day has gone by since he remembered the water.
And two nights.
And he is so hungry.
And it is so cold.
He's never gone this long without sustenance before.
Because he was always the best hunter in the pack.
And when that mysterious force called him to be alone, the food was always plentiful.
What strange force called him, compelled him, to leave the Northwoods and head for this strange desert place?
He treads on.
But tonight as he moves along, the hunger has been replaced by a euphoria.
And though he walks on the earth and solid ground, he feels as if he is somewhere higher.
Up in realms where the Great Wolf lives.
A place he will never see until he leaves this strange world into which he has been placed.
The sun is rising in the east.
I can see the faint hints of orange that appear just before its ascending.
I'm so tired; I'm so weak.
I've never been this broken.
He is on his belly now, moving slowly.
This isn't the way that a wolf is supposed to move.
But in the distance, the first rays of dawn shimmer off the water.
And there it is; 200 yards, 150, 100.
The watering place.
But it really doesn't matter now.
I'm too weak to kill anything that may be near it and eat.
They'd have to be as half-dead as I am to be caught.
I'll just crawl a little further.
And taste that sweet water.
And then I will leave.
And at last, I will meet the Great Wolf.
And I will ask Him so many things.
Things that I did not understand in this life . . .
Ah, the sweet life-giving fluid.
It does taste so good.
I'll just lay back for a while and relax.
And let the hot, desert sun bake my ragged bones into oblivion.
And then he heard it.
There was no mistaking that sound.
It was unlike the sound of any other.
It was the beating of eagle's wings.
I'm almost too tired to open my eyes.
The sun is so hot.
I really don't care.
If he needs to finish me off, then he needs to.
He's probably hungry.
I understand that.
I have been hungry as well.
And many a creature gave up their life's blood so that I could survive.
It's all right, noble one.
I'm through.
This carcass has served me well.
It is yours.
But then, he had the strangest sensation that someone was watching him.
And he opened his eyes.
And he beheld the bald eagle.
Well, he thought.
I have never seen one behaving like this.
For the eagle was simply looking at him.
And what a look.
It was a look of love.
It was a look of compassion.
This isn't how eagles are supposed to act.
Love? Compassion?
When was the last time that I felt such emotions?
It's been a long time.
He watched the eagle.
It looked to the mountains.
He stretched out his great wings and picked at something amidst his feathers as if he were picking at an old wound.
Oh, I know that feeling, thought the battle-scarred wolf.
I have seen majesty on this earth.
But I do not think that I have seen anything more majestic than this bird.
The eagle looked back at him.
And the wolf saw something else in his eyes.
"I have been where you have been, brother."
"I know how you feel, for I have felt the same."
"We have taken different paths but here we are at the same place, in the same time and we have both been warriors."
And there was a kinship there.
That was very strange for wolves and eagles to share.
But I will never forget children, what that eagle did next.
Ah, the smell of these beautiful Northern Woods.
It is so good to be back.
But, oh yes, yes I will tell you what happened next.
The eagle turned to his side.
And he picked up a huge mountain trout in his beak and he dropped it in front of me.
And you know that we're not much on fish.
But I have never tasted anything so sweet in my life.
And the eagle just sat there while I ate.
And he looked to the mountains.
They love mountains, you know.
And when I was done, he looked at me one last time.
And he let out an eagle cry that said everything that was in his heart.
And I understood him, even though I speak only wolf.
We were friends, that eagle and I.
And if I ever came upon him at a forest lake.
And he looked like he couldn't go on.
I tell you, I would fight a whole pack of my own kind, to keep them away from him.
And I'd bring him a big jackrabbit to savor and enjoy until he could gather his strength.
And take to the sky.
And fly into the sunset.
Where eagles belong.
He stayed with me that day until the setting of the sun.
And I watched him fly away.
And I have never seen anything as beautiful as that eagle silhouetted against the setting desert sun.
And I felt so good.
And so alive.
And I drank of that sweet water, again and again.
And I can still remember the taste of that fish.
Fish! Can you imagine?
But tell me, children.
Where did that eagle get a Rocky Mountain trout in the middle of the desert in New Mexico?
He could only have been a messenger of the Great Wolf.
And on the strength of that food I journeyed back to these woods.
I didn't even bother to stop and kill and eat along the way.
It seems I didn't need to.
And I drank from clear mountain streams.
And I felt so alive.
Because it felt like I was going home.
And so I was.
Now remember, my children.
This earth is not our home.
Some day we will go to another place.
When our race is run.
And perhaps, I'll see that eagle.
I wonder what it's like to be an eagle?
I'll bet he's wondered what it's like to be a wolf.
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Well done. Captivating. To the point.
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