The wolf's moment

The wolf had a brief weird moment. He saw his own shadow waving at him. Was it a sign of some higher calling? Did the Gods of the forest will him to take a reckoning of his existence thus far? After all, he was walking the walk of a wisened and senile canid for a while now. Perhaps the moment was not far away when he would find himself still. What would he tell himself then? Would he say goodbye to his still self?

What would he do then? Would he bark, scream or howl? Would he dance? Would he yodel?

The wolf thought about it. He knew the moment meant something significant. He took a piece of paper and a pen from the sleeping monk's bag and began to write. He wrote:

To whomsoever, it may concern.

I, Petramo, a Hudigan of the Bixwerdabtrax forest, bequeath my legacy to all the remaining Hudigans who walk our forest.
I leave them the memory of my first kill.
I leave them the secret hole I dug behind the tall tree.
I leave them the view of the strange three-legged beings who dance around the monolith every 3rd, 7th and 11th midnight.
I leave them my iron will to not bow to the Budigan chief.
I leave them my own shadow that waved at me.

Sincerely,
Petramo

He then blew the paper into the air, placed the pen back in the sleeping monk's bag, bid goodbye to him with a bow. Looking ahead solemnly, he wandered off into the forest, deep into where no fox ever ventured and died in solitude on the 9th day.

He then saw his still self. Then, watching his still self, he began to yodel a strangely sweet tune.