White Wolf with New Moon Rise

I run in the night, my fur white and thick. Being wolf, the pack is never far away. With telepathy, they portal and find me in a second or two. I love the moon, but I have no spirit to howl. In front of me is a lake. I approach and lap up just a little bit of water. I smell pestulance in the air. The new moon say that it is the construction on Hwy 55 that has disrupted the routes. I take in the sin of man and lay compact in the leaves. A buck walks by and looks in my eye. Elk are tunnelling through with a huchoo. I see a black shape in the darkness. It is a Cherokee with a blade dripping with blood. His eyes look unsure. Before collapse, he transforms into a black wolf who sees all realities. He licks the knife on the ground. I approach and touch my nose to his nose. There is a human form on the ground, so I walk away. Be with me today, I say. Poodles coming through, let's walk it off and then go taunt the dogs at The Humane Society. Dominant control leaves me 2 years old. Mercy, in me, makes everyone free.