I stood, stock-still and silent as a wraith, on the precipice staring into the face of oblivion. The rock was smooth and sturdy under my paws.

Down below, the forest stretched for miles and the healthy deep green entranced me. It was beautiful. No other place in the world had green like this.

The wind raked its spindly fingers through my fur and whispered in my ear. It revealed to me all of the secrets that the forest kept enshrouded.

I inhaled.

The crisp, sweet scent of cedar, spruce, and soil filled my lungs. It was nearly intoxicating.

On the horizon, the sun was just beginning its descent into the western horizon and was throwing awe-striking colors across the landscape; lovely, rosy pinks, and bright, citrus hues painted the forest and bathed the rock I stood upon. The warmth of the disappearing sun tickled the tips of my fur and danced on my face.

I turned on a dime and found myself running across the forest floor.

My paws drummed a steady beat as I went along, and occasionally, I would hear the sharp snap of my paws breaking a twig, or the faint crackle that was produced by a light footfall on a fall leaf.

All of the birds sang and chirruped as they flitted from branch to branch in the canopy above me. The fluttering of their wings and the cacophonous rhythms of each of the birds songs seemed to be in time with the tempo that my paws drummed out.

I listened to their fast-paced songs, and how it slowed and fell silent as I ran past. Their singing picked up once more when I had left their presence.

My predatory instincts told me to turn around and rip their small bodies limb from limb and devour them. I ignored these instincts. There was a more pressing matter at hand.

I ran through the forest as the sun continued its journey across the sky to meet the horizon. The light faded until the entire wood was as dark as pitch. The moon shed its meager light upon the tops of the trees but was unable to break through to the floor.

A mournful cry as thick as molasses seeped its way up my throat and diffused out into the trees as I raised my muzzle to the sky. My voice traveled up and down in pitch to create a lone melody within the nearly silent forest.

I howled again, more insistent this time, and I received an answer.

Ten other voices rose out of the trees. Some were louder than others. Each of the voices were a melody that seemed to bounce and change pitch in time with the thudding of my steadily beating paws and huffing breath.

I picked up the tempo of the thudding rhythm my paws created and fell into a sprint as I changed directions to join the wolves that sang into the night. The stretch and pull of my sinuous muscles was a joyously welcomed sensation.

My breath huffed in and out with the exertion of the new pace and it seemed to become entangled with the hastened thud of my paws to create an entirely new rhythm.

The howls started again, all of them picking up at separate times. This verified my destination.

I came into a small clearing, carved by a river and bathed in moonlight, at the same time ten other wolves did. They fell in behind me in a long since familiar pattern.

Some came from across the river, and the splashing they produced sent droplets shimmering into the air. The splash and slosh of the interruption of the lazily-flowing river seemed only to add, in my eyes, to the ever changing masterpiece that was the forest.