wolf

He circled around his territory. Prowling, searching for something. Only he really knew what he was searching for, but that didn't slow his hunt. 

Old age had taken it's toil on him, making his skin sag a little, his hair turn white. He didn't move as fast as he used to, his mind wasn't as sharp. But you couldn't tell him that. He strutted like the biggest peacock showing it's plumage. He thought he was the king of the jungle. 

His old eyes didn't see as well as he used to. But his sense of smell was even stronger for it. He could smell the "rabbit" before it jumped, knew which way it was moving and would be waiting with his jaws open. He missed as much as he caught, but it was still enough to keep him going.

He searched still. This wasn't a search for food, but pleasure. 

He would talk to any female that would listen. It would be the same old song, droning on and on about how great he was. What prowess he had, vigor of strength, how much of a man he was. It was the buzz of an annoying gnat. Bothersome, but nothing to worry about.

He found the females he was searching for, his old nose had brought him to their presence. He rumbled on and on. A peacock strutting for all to see, a bee buzzing its noise. A wolf still hunting prey. A relic needing to pass on.

And still the wolf searched.