It is not my howl at night
It is not the growl
Nor my fangs
It is the inner voice
It is my terror and my sanctuary
He has tapped my soul
But the voice threatens to leave me
My security
The key to my sanity and sanctity
He loses himself in my thoughts
Gray and dark are they
He flutters amongst the flailing tendrils of my outer ponderings
Trust?
A huntress trusts no one
Touch?
The huntress lashes prior
And perhaps lashes lasst
The snake or the wolf
Who will bite first?