Once I knew a wolf cub. She was a pretty thing, played by the southern
seas where she'd made her home. She was very much the image of her dam,
and was often complimented on her beauty. For a little while, long ago,
she had a collar on her, a red one, which dug at her throat and hurt
her, and soon she shook the collar off, and continued her happy life by
the sea.

Then one day, a man she'd never met came along, and he sat on her. He
burned her fur. He poked her with pointed sticks. He invited his friends
to come burn her as well, and he scarred her fur and her flesh forever.
The wolf cub whined and yelped for her mother to aid her, for she'd
never known such a man, and had no idea why he would burn her for no
reason, let alone for so long.

And her mother heard her, and her mother watched her burn.

In time, the cub rolled out from under the man, and he chased her all
over, burning her all the while, till finally a wave washed up from the
sea and doused her fur, and the man's torch as well. That big old wave
kept coming until the man was trapped with his fire and the wolf cub who
lived in the south was free again. All thanks to a wave.

And the cub shuffled out of the water, and tucked her tail, and
scampered back to her mother, to thank her for watching over her.

Penned by my hand on the 5th of Aequitas, in the year 449 AD.