It is dark, so dark that one could not even glance the shape of their hands. The silver moon hangs above the dark sky, casting a dim hue of white on the nearby lake near Brighten. Suddenly, a wounded deer ran by, the majestic animal gave in to its injuries and collapsed in the bush in front of John as he rushed to its aid.“I wouldn’t go there if I were you”, John’s brother whispered, “You wouldn’t want to startle the wolves.” It was told that In the lush thicket of branches and leaves in Brighten there lies a pack of spectral wolves, they only hunt the children, and when they do, they relentlessly track their prey and engorge them whole. John didn’t really believe in folklore and legends, he shushed his timid brother and slowly approached the wounded deer. He has always been a stubborn kid, and his only friends and most trusted companions are wild deers. The wounded animal groaned as John approached it, startled, it let out a loud cry. Suddenly, bright purple flashed across the trunk of the sleeping trees, a shiver ran through John’s spine as eight spectral wolves stared dead into his eyes. He closed his eyes, thinking it was the end, but instead the wolves went for some poachers behind him who wounded the deer. John realized that the wolves aren’t monsters or demons of hell, they are protectors of the forest, they are nature’s last line of defense in Brighten as humans brutally hunted indigious animals to near extinction and greedily cutted down the trees for monetary profit in disregard to the suffering of the wild life.