In the dead of the night,
The wolf pranced through the trees
His jaws were clamped
While his body weaved
The wolf was a brute
With a thirst to fight.
As the first opponent took his place
With a flick of his tail, the wolf raced
The two collided, squealing in the shadows
The cunning figure turned to face
"I do not fear you, for I am the fox!"
Came the challenger from his place.
Despite the mighty voice that was heard,
The fight once again became a blur.
As the two fought till the moon had plunged away,
It was undecided who would be seen by the light of day.
The forest believes it was the wolf who had won,
For he had possessed far more strength than the tricky one.
But the wind said different,
The wolf was the loser,
For the fox had become the terrifying bruiser.
Though the wounds were deep
The had fox won
For he had not been willing to be the unlucky one.