The wrapping of the canvas splits easily under my nimble fingers. My heart races as I set the blank slate on the easel. My long wild hair is piled atop my head, the burning red color could be easily compared to the embers of a dying fire. I am seated cross legged on top of the counter next to the window. Paint daubs are placed at random on the palate upon the little stand, and brushes of different shapes and sized line the window seal, my tiny little soldiers. The baggy tee-shirt ripples from the wind flowing through the open screen. The scent of freshly mowed lawns flavor the air, along with the fire crackling in the sky. Paint splatters my arm and legs, it’s in my hair and at on the tip of my nose.  Another brush is tucked behind my ear, he's my second incommand. My little soldiers stand at attention as I begin to paint. My battle plan unfolds and the war has begun.

My inner thoughts are splayed across the rough material, while my emotions are the image hiding in the wet paint coating the surface. My soul has been mixed into the drying paint, like kool-aid. I feel as if I am selling my soul to the devil, but really only to the Muses. My fingers dance as I add the detail, every little thing the eye barely sees. The gentle sound of the bristles on the fabric is a gentle sigh in the middle of the night. My entire being is sewed into the life of this painting, just as our futures are intertwined. I am a willow tree swaying to the movement of this piece. The brush’s playful caresses is much like that of a winds soft hands. More paint splatters onto my arms. My soldiers seem to sigh at the beautiful sight, while the acrylic weeps in awe. Slowly I loose my self, my mind, my heart, every thing. I close my eyes as if I hear the howls of victory from wolves, and my arm leads the way as I capture the Hunt. Wolves run through dense forests and over crystal clear creeks, their silver fur only a mere echo of the moon which reflects in there incandescent eyes. Their life fire glow is scarlet embers, waiting patiently for the gasoline to bring on the flames. My heart soars on strong legs, carrying me with them. The paint makes them real.

My eyes fly open as I’m assaulted with cool biting air, my window long gone as I stare at the scene before me. Wolves all around me, brushing my legs, and playing with mischievous sprites that flit around on translucent wings. Their pupil less eyes dance with amusement and contentment. With enthrallment the wolves throw back their humongous heads and release cries of love and freedom. My chest screams for me to follow, my throat vibrates as a howl so loud spews out of my mouth, it echos in the night air. We are off. My legs carry me over fallen trees, and through shallow streams. My life flame burns and festers with the power of the full moon, turning my eyes to silver. The pack races beside me, my little soldiers. Each as different as the next, no two the same size or shape. I yell in exhilaration. we devour the night with scarlet fire, our mouths relish the velvet black. The stars above join in the festival, their twinkling lights wink at our distant silhouettes. We run for ourselves, for every mistake, every thing that has held us back.

We wage a war against ourselves, and we fight the forces that cages us with the sun. We are the children of the night that run rampant through the woods. My arms turn to legs, bringing me on all fours. Black fur coats me and my soul. The Muses wild laugh fills the air as they join our race against the sun, they too become wolves of the hunt. Their songs praise the jewel hanging in the sky, it’s echo still in our wild eyes. We chase our old lives and swallow them whole, leaving them in the deepest parts of our mind so they may never return. We are the children of darkness and wild power resides in all of our heart. Ravens of wisdom circle above, waiting for a chance to end out fun. Their constant caws remind us that one day we must move on from this wild place. Our howls resound off of trees and cliffs, mountains and deep valleys, playfully daring the black winged ones to come closer. No place is free from our wild power, yet every place free from restraint. I laugh as shy elves and fair folk ride on the backs of my little soldiers, their whoops of pleasure persuade us to push our limits and run at the speed of light. Centuries pass with the dawn close on our heels, even as we remain young and spirited. Never tiring from the fantasy. Yet year after year the sun gains close, his brilliant light glimmers on the edge of the horizon.

His light broaches the night, bringing dawn to cage us in tight. His brilliance banishes the moon to empty places. The golden prickles of light burn away our fur, leaving young men and women standing like tiny soldiers. The muses wild laugh follows as they fly to the moon on purple wings, leaving us to battle Apollo. His gold chariot rides over dark mountains turning everything beneath to solid light. His horses pursue our frightened bodies, whose legs have carried them far. When we meet  his face, sorrow contorts his beauty, tears of black stream down his face and we know he was once us. We cry for mercy, and release. We beg for the relief of night. We plead for him to follow and leave the sun behind.. Yet to no avail he puts me in my cage where I sleep until night falls again.

Tears rain in rivets across my night kissed skin, my sorrows for the curse god and the captured soldiers isolates my heart. With opened eyes I recall the scene, looking at the painting in front of me. Its deep forest and crystal rivers, splashed with deep golds and light. A hole forms in my chest, leading me into adulthood, and leaving my immature heart to die. The gentle wind from the open window embraces and comforts my barred in soul. I howl in defeat as my little soldiers lay broken and bent, no longer wooden paint brushes, but small little sprites their pupil less eyes stare vacantly back at me. Yet one sprite holds his head high, my second in-command, showing me not all is lost, and not all is gone. I look in his eyes and see a reflection of mine, little silver wolves howling in defiance for the sun god. Never letting go of where I've been, I pull out another canvas as the sun sinks deep in the sky, the moon follows close behind.