Snow Fox

Run away, snow fox. Run away fast.

You know the hounds are after you. You know they caught your scent. But you're cleverer - made more so when the pressure is on.

They see that you're different: your pelt white like snow. Your fluffy tail powdered with the fresh precipitation - gromel, in Eskimo.

They hunt you for your beauty, your value - you're rare; but they cannot contain you, even captured in a snare.

You will run till you're caught. You will live till you die. You will shimmer, in the sunlight, catching light on their eyes. Your coat, unlike others, camouflages in white. It tells them they're not built for this tundra and ice.

You belong in this wilderness, wild and free. They will brag to their women and their sons how you fleed. How they spotted you, caught you, skinned you for sport; how they stole your wild spirit for this wicked consort.