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On a makeshift lounge in the wilderness he lay.
He knew he was dying and sensed this was his final day.
Atop of this mountain is where he wanted to be,
so he could have one last look at Nature's wondrous scenery.
The local wolf pack emerged out of the brush and surrounded him.
He smiled as they all gazed, he found their presence comforting.
The alpha male approached him with a pheasant locked in its jaw,
and dropped it on his lap, but he could eat no more.
He pushed the dead bird off unto the ground.
The alpha male began to make a whimpering sound.
With what little strength he had left, he pet the wolf and said goodbye.
When his lifeless hand fell, 
the alpha male howled as the pack joined him in their cry.
The pack was in mourning, their wolf human had died.

*
Inspired from one of my survival excursions at a national park, which shall remain nameless since I'm sure that I violated some wildlife game laws by interacting the way I did with one of this park's many wolf packs.
*
To this day I am often tempted to return and spend the rest of my remaining years with them, co existing with each other the way we did, but I have too many loved ones who tie me to society, but if ever there comes a day when there is no one left that I care about, I promise, I will return to you old fiends. I would have barely survived had they not Allowed me to take a share from every single kill they had made. I miss them. I miss that life.

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