Drool and blood cover the snowy forest. Desperately, a gray, blue-eyed wolf runs to escape the fate that was met by the rest of its pack. In one cruel wintry morning, this vicious beast has managed to lose everything, save for its will to live. A stream of blood flows down its face, beginning from the same spot where its right ear used to be. With whatever strength the wolf has left, it sprints, trying to out-run the bullets whirring past it.
?About fifty yards back, the hunter and his son gallantly ride their horses, chasing what’s rightfully theirs. They ride, fearless and with a sense of gaiety. Unlike the beast, they have nothing to lose because for them, it’s a regular weekend, and they have everything that their hearts could possibly desire, even more.
?Suddenly, the foul, vicious predator drops to the cold ground; not because it was shot, but simply due to its paws not being able to carry the weight anymore. “There!!!”, shouts the hunter, “the hound fell by those two large boulders.” Panting, slowly and heavily, the wolf knows that this is the end, and accepts it. The only thing that it desires is to die in peace, if there is in fact any peace left in this disturbed place, which it calls home. However, the hunter won’t let this animal, this filthy beast, this worthless hound, get away with that luxury! Being that it’s his son’s birthday, he hands him the cold, steel bowie and allows him to slay this horrific creature.
?After a few attempts, the son decapitates the wolf and throws the head into the burlap sack that contains the others. Grinning, he tells his father, “this one will go in the game-room, above the other trophies.” With feelings of satisfaction and righteousness, the two hunters, the father and son, ride back to theirs hunting cottage.
?Gradually, as the excitement and brutality leave the wilderness, very few traces remain indicating that a hunt took place. Eventually, only one thing is left behind, a question; “who is truly the beast, wolf or man?