Lone Wolf

The lone wolf had seen death before. He had met its cold gaze, reserved for those who fight against the odds. The vipers had crawled out from the shadows, suddenly, without a sound. Arrows stuck out from his back and the snake's venom scorched his body with pain. But he shook it off. He knew it was not over. For when a man stands alone with nothing left to lose, when he finds that primal urge to destroy anything that stands in his path, even death may waver in its steps. He searched for her cold gaze again, but he could not find it. It was not meant for him. But for those who fight against the odds.

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