The Were-Wolf

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War Cry

I am not a sheepdog.

A sheepdog is a slave, owned by the same master who owns the sheep. For his servitude, he is allowed to sleep indoors perhaps at his master’s feet until he can no longer perform his service and he is put to sleep by needle or shotgun blast.

I am the wolf.

I am still wild, still untamed, and still free.

I protect my pack, serve only my pack, sacrifice only for my pack, and feel no remorse when one or two of the sheep must be taken for my pack. I will sleep free under the stars and I will never admit the right of masters to command me to sit or roll over or play dead.

Because I understand that in the end, the shepherd intends to fleece and butcher all of his faithful, unthinking sheep and no man can be their rescuer.

Instead, I will be why the masters fear the night.

Joseph Hall

Joseph Hall

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About Me

I like long walks through the Afghan mountains and long drives through the Iraqi nights.

I’ve been a medic in the US Army, a police officer, a Border Patrol Agent, an Air Marshal, and an armoured fighter in the SCA.

I’m a man like you, a creator and a father, a student and a teacher, trying to earn the mantle of Warrior-Poet.

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