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Quote from the story/poem here. Mistakes will be in bold and numbered.

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7. Pitter patter, pitter patter... The drops hit the 1. padded mossy forest floor, rolled off the leaves, and 2. shattered against the looming branches 3. , Each minute droplet felt the ground in one way or another, 4. whether it be from releasing the bottom of a bud it gripped so 5. right, or breaking apart, and forming new droplets with other broken molecules, or perhaps just joining an existing drop. Eventually, they would soak into the ground, or splash into a lake, a puddle, or a river. It would eventually heat and evaporate, be drank by an animal, or be absorbed by the roots of the plants[6. ,. But in the end, it will fall once more, repeating the never-ending cycle of the rain, falling, falling, falling. This particular rain, was hitting the rocks outside a small cave. 7. Pitter patter, pitter patter.

It was a small cave indeed 8. , with size seemingly diminished greater by the trees, their leaves blanketing the forest floor. The cave was a light brown in color, made of thick packed dirt and rock, the sort of cave 9. you could only really notice amongst the trees if you were looking at it. The rain gleamed as it 10. sat on the surface of the rocks, shining whenever some light found 11. it's way to touch it 12. , for light scarcely penetrated enough thick leaves to reach the ground, it was not particularly pretty enough to stare at, but pretty in a bland way, a simple sample of nature, a look into the simple serene routine life of the forest.

The 13. insides of the cave was similar to the outside, although more rocks and roots were viewable from within. The cave was not without it's inhabitants, and the variety of those who dwelled in the cave was extreme. From small insects, such as pesky flies, big beetles, fuzzy brown spiders, ants, and more, to plant life, a couple tufts of grass, the occasional fern or two, and some ivy running up the wall by the entrance. The cave was also home to several mammals. There was a family of rabbits sheltered in the back of the cave, coming out occasionally to nibble on some nearby grass.

The other mammal in the cave was a wolf, a single lone wolf. The wolf was of a greyish color, however if one looked at it's soft flowing fur at the right time, the right angle, if the lighting was just right, they would 14. sear this wolf was silver, a glowing, warming silver, a rich soft silver, like that of a fairy tale. Compared to the other wolves of this age, this wolf was on the smaller side, rather below the average weight of the other wolves, below the average length. The wolf's unnaturally blue eyes shone in the dull lighting of the cave, and emanated a deep, rich sorrow, a patience, a wisdom, all mixed together, intertwined with hopes, goals, dreams, incomprehensible by anyone not willing to devote time to thinking about it.

The wolf laid on the floor of his cave, as he thought of it, with his hind legs tucked to his sides, his tail wrapped against him, resting against one of his legs, and his front legs crossed at the paws, his head balanced, resting neatly on top the crossed paws.

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Staring out at the rain blinking slowly, a rumble emitted from the wolf, however not a growl, but a natural reflex, a friendly reminder of the lack of substance in his stomach. Looking out at the seemingly everlasting rain, he realized he would soon have to venture into the forest to find food, regardless the amount of rain falling, and he debated which was worse, lying there hungry but dry, or content, yet wet.

The water would not kill him, but he preferred not to get wet if he did not have too, it bothered him to return to his cave wet, as that made the cave wet, in turn making him muddy, which would result in him having to bathe once the rain stopped, and then wait outside the cave for both himself and the cave floor to dry. By that point, chances are it will have started raining again, and the whole process would have to start over again. No. He could wait until the rain has stopped.

While he waited out the rain, he pondered where to get food net. Unlike most wolves, his prey did not flee him, and he was pretty sure it did not mind being eaten. This wolf, was a vegetarian. He had been for as long as he could remember. He could not bring himself to kill an animal. He had tried, ages ago. Shifting uncomfortably, he recalled the experience, shuddering as the memories flooded his mind.

He had been years younger than he now was, to the extent of his memory, which was clouded up to a certain point, but he was sure most animals could not remember their childhood. Rolling onto his side he looked out at the oncoming rain, and accepted the painful memories, replaying them in his mind like a movie, as if he were there again.

He had been running through the forest, running from what he did not remember. He did remember he had all intentions of escaping this enigma, and escape he did. In his escape, however, he had lost track of where he had came from. He had forgotten it. He still did not remember. He was exhausted and confused, yet relieved. Whatever he had run from, he had escaped. However, there was a sensation that overcame all the rest. He was hungry, and needed to eat.

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Then he spotted his dinner. It was sitting on the ground, scratching behind it's ear with it's hind paw. His dinner stopped scratching, and sniffed the air, it's pink nose twitching, it's whiskers bobbing up and down. It looked uneasily in the direction of the wolf, which startled him, threw him off guard. His heart skipped a beat, as if to tell him not to carry on, however a pain from his stomach told him he needed to eat, and him brain reminded him that this time, his stomach was correct.

He looked at his dinner again, it had decided that the area the wolf was in was nothing to fear, and gone back to nibbling a purple flower petal happily. He pondered an approach, finally he ran in, intending to snap his dinner's neck. In the attempt he accidentally lifted it and threw it at the same time with his mouth.

As it was falling it was already struggling to regain balance. It half rolled, half scurried backwards in it's panic, and as the wolf noticed he was upon his dinner in one bound, and had his paw on it in another. It looked away, trembling as it waited for it's life to end. Then he noticed something he had not noticed before. When he noticed it, he could not shake it.

Under his paw was his dinner, but it was terrified. Under his paw was his dinner, that had twitched his nose without a care in the world. Under his paw was his dinner... A dinner with the same thoughts, emotions, dreams, and goals as him. He held the entire life of a creature... Under his paw. This was not his dinner, nor any one's. This was a rabbit, an innocent rabbit. He looked at the rabbit, and he saw a creature equal to him, waiting for him to remove it's right to live.

He removed his paw.

The rabbit looked up at him, too terrified to even move, likely worried he was just playing with him. The wolf took another step backwards, and sat down. The rabbit struggled up, and scooted to the edge of the clearing, against a bush. It turned to look at the wolf one last time, it's eyes screaming thanks, and then turning to scamper into the bush.

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He stood up, shaking off the memories of the past, and looked out at the rain. A rumble once again reminded him he had not eaten, and he slowly moved to the mouth of the cave. Looking up at the trees looking above, a raindrop slapped his nose, cold, wet, and like everything else outside by now, smelling like sea salt.

Scanning the treetops, in which the rain was falling as it slid down the leaves, at last finding a small spot in which he could see the clouds. They were dark and thick, and next to no light shone through. It would be impossible to tell the time of day, and even if he could, there was next to no chance to find food, let alone figure out if it were safe. Eating was going to have to wait.

This thought process was ended by another cold, heavy raindrop piercing his snout, sending a chill through his body. Trudging back into the cave, he laid down and sighed, allowing his thoughts to return to the base of his memory.

He sat staring at the place the rabbit had just been laying, shaking. He just had a life, a heart that beat, a brain that had thought, something with a home, possibly a family, something that slept and ate, breathed and more, all just like him, under his paw. He could have taken all that away in a second. He could have consumed the rabbit as if it were nothing more than a handful of berries. Eating something like that, to him, it would be cannibalism.

They both had beating hearts.

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After a few more minutes of staring at the lack of rabbit, he stood up. He needed food. Food that did not have a beating heart. He needed fruits, vegetables. What leaves were edible? What fruits tasted good? A quick scan around the small clearing he was in resulted in some purple flowers, some leafy bushes, plenty of grass, a tree that had some bright red fruit growing on it, a log, and a couple chattering squirrels. He could not eat a log, did not want to eat grass or leaves, however fruit looked good.

Walking up to the tree, he looked around. It was too high to reach, however there were several lying on the ground. One was smashed, revealing a mushy looking yellow inside with orange seeds, and another was whole, and looked like a bell, or an upside-down mushroom. It smelled awful, like rotting honey, burning, rotting smelling.

Flowers it was.

The flowers had petals that were light purple at the start, and dark tips. They had a bright green stem and deep green leaves. There were eleven of the purple petals, and they were big, big enough that they might be filling if he ate enough. The petals were aligned in two layers, six on the bottom and five on the top. He crouched down to pull a petal off one of the flowers, using a paw to hold the stem down. A light tug resulted in a satisfying ‘Pluk’, and he cautiously began chewing on the petal. It tasted sweet. Glad he had found this flower, he pulled a whole flower out of the ground, and began gnawing. Taking a bite out of the stem, he was greeted by one of the most disgusting bitter flavors he could remember, however little far he could remember.

The stem was not edible, and if it were, he was not eating it. The petals would suffice, and by plucking petals and piling them up, he was able to gather enough that despite however filling they were, they would at least give the illusion of being filling.