Sagot :
On a dark path, forever strewn with insignificant stones, the wolf prowled, frightening the walker, his wandering and despised race affirmed here are the ultimate nobility and a threat to the savagery of men. Yet it was he who was called "beast", "animal", "monster". We would kill him, exterminating his rage… to live. So the traps were sown in the forest, the arrival of the strings of blood reddened the undergrowth, no more prey was found. As time goes by that old age or illness is undoubtedly swept away, perhaps even that it had gone so far that it would never come back, that we could well forget them, him and them. fears that had this trope weighed. And that's how hunters abandon creation to legend. The outcast of dark hearts and minds was well gone, he had removed the contra, plunging into the forest, crossing clearings and meadows, joining other woods and reaching the heights of the mountain. It was and was cold, their coat was thicker then, the earth was hard and the stones bruised his paws… but the clear water was so good! Here, there were no longer these human predators, he saw very little of them, he hid very well now, not only behind the rocks, but in the mountain itself! He had, I explored its cavities, these were his shelters, lairs of his new life. Names of long duration, storms and rains devouring the mountain, it bled in great torrents; the water was no longer safe to drink at all, and the prey, too, was gone. Had heaven eaten them too? And had the torrent carried away the remains? Thirst and hunger were endangering, the Dutch echoed in the way of the waters, that of the torrent which led him into the snow-white forest and finally into the cruel valley of men. What an exhausting journey! The snow cover was so thick! Advance in there was a nightmare, and then, how to find your way, everything was so cloudy and white! An ice patient who took both time and energy without offering anything to eat… He was weakening. In this suffocating silence, all was silent and only Death smiled. Sometimes heaps of snow fell heavily from the top of the pines, one could believe that it was the whole tree that was lying down, felled by the Sky crushing Nature with all its weight. His very last strength finally opened the white curtain for him to reach the edge of a frozen lake. Everything was clearer here, the view was so clear around the perimeter, so beautiful and luminous that it was almost worrying ... The snow was less cold, it crackled as if with pleasure at being thus caressed by the rays of the Sun whose brilliance then equaled that of his white mirror. The ice of the lake, on the other hand, oozed pure water, and was like pearls of crystal, giving it a richness that no king of men could reproduce in his palace except in dreams.
However, fishing here was doomed. And he lacked strength too much to run after rodents, very small and quick snacks. He had to continue his journey a little further; The other side of the lake had to offer a much better hunting ground, reaching this edge of the Snow Empire was the goal. There would end these times of deprivation, there he would survive. Crossing the lake was a first; the sight and feel of the ice under his paws was certainly known, but it became stranger over such an expanse. As it progressed, an apprehension gradually arose: that of being exposed in this way. He had long protected himself from it, over time becoming a master in the art of discretion. And then, taking refuge in his mountain territory, he was then able to abandon his fears and therefore his tactics of concealment. This apprehension, not forgotten, but diminished by distance and time, came back to him painfully, stirring up his past as well as the road traveled so far. The further he went, the more fear grew and more precisely permeated his mind. So he moved faster, believing he was more seeking to flee this fear that ran after him than to reach the shore of his hope. The risks grew as he approached his chance within sight. He thus passed the center of the lake and more, started to run then, and this always faster, so quickly that he sowed his fear far behind him. His strength and confidence regained, he ran. He was running as before, as before all those bad times, as in the days of his younger years. This renewed vigor pushed his animal spirit far ahead of him, beyond the woods, he imagined these hunts, these preys and even the meeting of congeners. This is how his formidable race made him reach the target bank. That's where he was aimed and a bullet hit him.
However, fishing here was doomed. And he lacked strength too much to run after rodents, very small and quick snacks. He had to continue his journey a little further; The other side of the lake had to offer a much better hunting ground, reaching this edge of the Snow Empire was the goal. There would end these times of deprivation, there he would survive. Crossing the lake was a first; the sight and feel of the ice under his paws was certainly known, but it became stranger over such an expanse. As it progressed, an apprehension gradually arose: that of being exposed in this way. He had long protected himself from it, over time becoming a master in the art of discretion. And then, taking refuge in his mountain territory, he was then able to abandon his fears and therefore his tactics of concealment. This apprehension, not forgotten, but diminished by distance and time, came back to him painfully, stirring up his past as well as the road traveled so far. The further he went, the more fear grew and more precisely permeated his mind. So he moved faster, believing he was more seeking to flee this fear that ran after him than to reach the shore of his hope. The risks grew as he approached his chance within sight. He thus passed the center of the lake and more, started to run then, and this always faster, so quickly that he sowed his fear far behind him. His strength and confidence regained, he ran. He was running as before, as before all those bad times, as in the days of his younger years. This renewed vigor pushed his animal spirit far ahead of him, beyond the woods, he imagined these hunts, these preys and even the meeting of congeners. This is how his formidable race made him reach the target bank. That's where he was aimed and a bullet hit him.
