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The night had silenced the woods, covering them with a cold temper of trembling shadow.

Everything was immobile, paralysed in the atmosphere as if time had stopped running, contemplating the snow falling slowly on the ground covering it more and more, cancelling animal or human traces. Though there were no human in that Forest, neither animals, not even the bravest predators dared to come disturb the old Oaks in the cold winter nights. The wind was blowing silently, moving the highest creaking branches creating a melody that only the Moon could hear; the air was breathtaking and a strong sent of danger crowned the undergrowth with its filth, killing instantly every trace of movement. A sudden crack pierced the macabre harmony of the forest, it was loud and unexpected and broke into that ambient where it had nothing to do. The moon reflected her light into a pair of bright yellow eyes, crowned by a silver fur as thick as the wood himself. The white Wolf walked its way between the threes with its head and ears strained forwards the sky, leaving behind its own beastly fragrance in the atmosphere. A few seconds later it was running desperately, rolling on the ground or rubbing itself on the Oakss bodies as if it was tormented by its own skin, biting its paws and tail and wracking out its fur from its bones. Carmine blood was spraying in the air, pieces of tender and warm flesh where melting the snow under them, colouring the ground in theyre same red tonality. The wolfs agonizing howl became a human lament, and a figure raised from the blood-tainted fur and flesh, as naked as the threes around him. The man took a few steps forward while looking at his red dirty hands, started feeling his face and body, his greasy blond hair and exploring the lines of his face, soaked in blood and marked by his surprised and contemplative expression. The wolf had turned Man, but his instinct was still living into every breath he was taking in the cold winter wind.