Wolf Cry

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With tears glistening in his eyes, the wolf gazes upon the desolation wrought by mankind, his heart heavy with sorrow. Each scarred landscape, each polluted river, each felled tree feels like a wound upon his very soul. In the midst of this devastation, he feels a profound sense of loss for the world as he once knew it. A world teeming with life, vibrant and untouched by human hands.

His mournful howls echo through the ravaged wilderness, a lament for the countless lives lost, both animal and plant, to the insatiable greed and heedless exploitation of his bipedal counterparts. The once pristine wilderness that was his home now lies in ruins, a testament to humanity’s relentless march of destruction.

As he pads silently through the wreckage, memories flood his mind—of lush forests where his ancestors roamed freely, of crystal-clear streams where they quenched their thirst, of open plains where they hunted under the watchful gaze of the moon. Now, all that remains are scars upon the land, scars that may never heal.

Despite his primal instincts urging him to flee from the encroaching chaos, the wolf cannot tear his gaze away from the devastation before him. For in every fallen tree, in every poisoned stream, he sees not just the destruction of his habitat, but the unravelling of the very fabric of life itself.

In his sorrow, the wolf wonders if there will ever be a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. Will mankind awaken from its destructive slumber and learn to cherish the Earth, or will it continue down its current path, heedless of the consequences? The weight of uncertainty bears down upon him, leaving him feeling utterly helpless in the face of such overwhelming despair.