To run with the wolf was to run in the shadows, the dark ray of life, survival and instinct. A fierceness that was both proud and lonely, a tearing, a howling, a hunger and thirst. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst. A strength that would die fighting, kicking, screaming, that wouldn't stop until the last breath had been wrung from its body. The will to take one's place in the world. To say 'I am here.' To say 'I am.

Hope burns eternal in the human heart.

If you're betwixt and between, trust the one with red hair.

If I have not love, I am Nothing.

Where do we record the passing of wildlife? Who mourns the silent deaths of the small?

For every pleasure, there must be a sacrifice.

By that which you kill are you bound.