A wolf moves quiet through the timber, silver caught along her coat, reading changes in the treeline, every scent and broken note. Another shadow knows the pathway, though no markings touch the stone, never learned the forest language— it was written in his bones. [VERSE 1] One knows when the water changes. One reads movement through the pines. Different trails beneath the moonlight, both still turning at the signs. Neither calls across the distance. Neither leaves a trace behind. Two wolves moving through the timber— each aware of something undefined. [PRE-CHORUS] Moonlight fractures on the water. Weight returns to level ground. Two wolves pause beneath the branches— neither knows what turned them round. [CHORUS] Somewhere between the moon and measure, something travels through the pines. One reads tides. One holds balance. Both go still at certain signs. And the wolves keep moving— silver slipping through the night, following what has no language, keeping something just outside the light. [VERSE 2] One wolf hears the branch before it ever breaks beneath a step. One feels something in the current before the water changes depth. No marker waits along the pathway. No compass trembles in a hand. Still the wolves adjust their footsteps as if answering the land. Sometimes one will stop and listen when no sound has crossed the trees. Far away, another pauses— just before the changing breeze. [PRE-CHORUS] Water darkens under moonlight. Balance shifts without a sound. Neither wolf has crossed the distance. Still— both turn and look around. [CHORUS] Somewhere between the moon and measure, something travels through the pines. One reads tides. One holds balance. Both go still at certain signs. And the wolves keep moving— two faint shadows out of sight, following what won't be spoken, leaving questions with the night. [BRIDGE] Maybe the timber knows. Maybe the shoreline knew first. Maybe something without language moves before it becomes a word. One wolf turns. The other listens. Black water trembles at their feet. No call. No answer. Still— something passes in between. No riddle gives an answer. No mystery gives a name. Two wolves beneath the same pale moon— different paths, the same strange flame. [FINAL CHORUS] Somewhere between the moon and measure, night conceals what daylight finds. One moves water. One holds balance. Both keep reading different signs. And the wolves keep moving— two silhouettes the trees conceal. No promise. No possession. No explanation makes it real. Only instinct— older than language, quiet underneath the cold. Two wolves disappear into the timber... still knowing what was never told. [OUTRO] The water turns. The balance holds. Two shadows fade beneath the cold. No one taught the wolves to know. It was always... in the bones.
