the boy had never seen a rabbit so still
only its fur moved in the cruel wind
he pulled an arrow from his quiver
and took aim at the cottontail
his hands shook from the cold, but the
arrow struck its mark, almost
the shaft lodged itself in the creature's hind leg
now the rabbit hobbled in the deep snow
leaving a thin red trail on the white blanket until
the boy caught his prey and snapped its neck
fresh hot meat for the night's meal
his father would be proud
almost back to the village, the boy spotted the wolf,
white, nearly invisible in the drifts
he drew another arrow, but then remembered
what the elders had said
a white wolf in winter may not be harmed
and a gift must be proffered
the boy sheathed his arrow, and lay the rabbit
in the snow, the animal's blood still warm
the wolf and the boy watched each other
and a great gust swelled
the boy turned away from the blast, the wolf;
behind him he heard the howls
a synchronicity, the wail of the wolf wedded to the wind
a marriage of flesh and the elements
the two were one in the boy's ears, until he found
his lodge and warmed his hands with fire's gift