Pretty
The winds picked up out of black nothingness. The hard, dry earth shook with a menace and hatred so fierce. The moon grew dark and the stars, the stars twinkled and faded away into the night sky. A wolf cried out to the almost black moon, seeking reassurance that no one could find. Not a single thread of noise, except the echoing cry of the wolf and the stench of a thousand bodies strewn about the shaking earth. Through the light of the last moon rays stood a single girl. Then as the wolf made a last cry of despair, he collapsed, dead, his eyes blank and staring into the girls...
Loneliness is a terrible strength to a girl with no one, no one to share her tears for the dead wolf, no one to talk to, no one to touch, no one to touch her back, no one to know her as she is...
...Pretty.