The sky is gray. The weather, mediocre. Wind pushes at the trees. The smell of dust is in the air, but no rain will fall tonight.
A wolf is lost. It wonders aimlessly. A path is laid out before it, but it does not want to walk it. The wolf is tired and wants to rest, but the path will fade and the trees will close in, so the wolf walks on.
The wolf was part of a pack, but it was time to leave, so it sought its independence. But the path is lonely and hard. The pack still watches over the wolf and the wolf can seek help from time to time, but the wolf seeks independence and rebukes the help that is offered because it's pride is too great.
The wolf was once confident, but now doubts. The wolf has discovered that it's confidence came from another, but now that other is gone. The wolf cannot fly. It spirals downward like a bird from above, but there is no ground to alight apon. To misery the wolf wishes it could run, but on the path it must stay. There is no escape from the path, not without throwing away years of life lived. The wolf does not want to do that now, for the end of the path is so near, yet still so far away.
The sky has gone dark. The storm has moved in. The wind batters the trees. Not even lightning has come to bring excitement to the world. The wolf must find shelter to escape its worries for the night. A lone feather drifts down to the wolf, knocked loose by the wind. The wolf follows the feather, curious where it will lead. To a hollow in the roots of a tree it floats. It will have to do. At least the wolf was able to find some comfort in his tormented world, through a raven's feather.