Woeful Wolf

As a child, he often sneaked away from the village to venture into the forest and play with the wild animals. He was always talking to them. Sometimes, they even seemed to understand. And although he approached the fiercest of beasts, they never hurt him. Not once.
One day, returning home, he found the village all burned down. Nothing but ash and death. He collapsed on his knees and cried and wailed. For days and weeks. Until he became someone else. Something else.
The animals watched from the forest. They understood.
The leader of the wolf pack stepped forward, his nose up, smelling the air. It brushed against the kneeling child and stepped in front of him. The child felt it. The wolf had picked up a trail.
From that day forward, they roamed the great plains, mountains and forests, preying on the wicked, seeking vengeance.

(I didn't have time to participate in the Wild West Challenge, but I loved the theme and vouched to do at least an illustration when I got some off hours)