With a tightly fit cage-like contraption trapping his snout, Grey struggled to remove his muzzle. It was difficult to breathe, he could hardly growl, and—worst of all—he couldn’t eat; he hadn’t eaten in several hours. He would lick his chops in such a moment of hunger, but he was unable. He was stuck. Trapped. Muzzles were dedicated to bad pups; Grey did not know why he deserved such treatment. He did not recall doing anything wrong.

The sky grew darker as a dark bog filled the air like smoke near a fire. A drop of rain fell from the clouds above and landed with a splatter on Grey’s muzzle. Grey looked up to the sky, and another raindrop fell onto his head—this time on his fuzzy forehead, which he looked at with a cross eyed view as it dripped down his face. This was followed by another drop of rain, and another, and another.

This made him realize that not only did he have nothing to eat, but he also had no shelter for sleep. He continued to claw at his muzzle until finally he managed to rip it off.

Grey then ran through the trees and ruff until he came across a small cozy home near the edge of the woods, and the pup trotted up to the door of the house. He pawed at the door, waiting for one of the humans to welcome him in, but no one came. He waited for someone to open the door for him, but nobody came. He then saw a truck on the dirt driveway with an open window. The pup trotted up to the truck and jumped for the window, but he was just barely too big to fit in the small opening of the window. He needed food and shelter, but he had nowhere to go.

It was at that very moment that he saw it—a chicken coop. Right behind the driveway on the side of the house. Grey ran up to the chicken coop and found the door to the coop was left slightly open. He saw many baby chicks resting behind their mother hen—sitting plumply in the back end of the coop sleeping in her nest.

Grey pushed the door open with his paw. When he did this, the gateway creaked as it moved. It was loud and most definitely noticeable. The hen moved its head to the side in her sleep, but didn’t wake up—thank goodness. He didn’t want to be caught intruding in their coop; He did his best to keep quiet.

Grey then crawled forward—steadily making his way towards the back of the coop. He made it a couple of steps until he heard a loud crunch from under his feet. It was an eggshell. Grey had stepped on one of the hen’s eggs, and the egg had cracked underneath his paw. The sound was loud. The hen shifted in her nest, but still stayed asleep. The eggshell had cut the bottom of his paw and the paw began to bleed at the bottom of the paw. A fragment of the shell was lodged between two of Grey’s toes. It hurt quite a bit, but the pup took a breath and kept crawling towards the back of the coop. There was another crack. A second eggshell was crushed underneath his weight. That was the moment when Grey realized how many eggshells there really were. Under the hay and dirt at the bottom of the coop we’re about two dozen eggs.

Grey was walking on eggshells.

He had found a maze of hidden eggshells in the coop, and Grey couldn’t see any of them until he had already stepped on them. Getting into the coop would be harder than he thought.

Grey slowly began crawling through the coop. Heel to toe. Heel to toe. Quieter. Quieter. Slower. Slower. Quiet. With each step, his paws broke through another eggshell. Eggshells that were cutting into his paws. The same paws that he needed to keep walking on. Walking on eggshells. Eggs that would never hatch. Not anymore. With each step he gained, another chick was lost. If only there was another way, but he was too far now to stop, so with each step, another baby was killed. The hen’s babies, babies that would have hatched soon, but were cracked too early, and the chicks would never see their mother hen’s eyes. They would only see the bloody paws of a pup, if not nothing at all. He was causing so much pain. It seemed small. After all, he was taking little steps. Just walking. Walking on eggshells. But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop the blood that was on him, the death beneath him, and the horror surrounding his little steps… as he walked on eggshells.

He had finally made it to the back of the coop where the hen was sound asleep, despite the loud sound made by the pup. Finally. It was all worth it. Grey had warmth. Grey had shelter. And Grey was about to have a meal. With a slash of his claws, Grey cut his claws deep into the hen — fragments of eggshells punctured into the hen’s feathers — and the hen was truly killed in cold blood. Dead. Grey the wolf pup finally had his meal of hen and small baby chicks, and he fell asleep.

Grey woke to voices near the chicken coop. The humans, once asleep in their house, were now awake, ready to eat for themselves. Ready for breakfast. Ready for eggs. But all that was left were eggshells. Grey the wolf pup knew that they were nearing. When he was spotted, he would be cold once again, homeless once again, and the hen would have likely been his last meal.

Grey prepared to run away, but the eggshells in his paws made it too painful for him to stand. Grey looked down at the eggshells, and prepared to embrace whatever came next. But what came next was unlike anything he had expected.

The humans were still walking around outside of the coop when the wolf pup heard one last crack. An eggshell had cracked. He didn't know how that could be, for he wasn't walking anymore. He noticed, in the center of the coop, an egg began to hatch. One tiny movement after another, the egg hatched, and the baby chick emerged from the broken eggshells. There was an egg that Grey hadn’t stepped on. And out came a chick. A precious little chick. Ruffled feathers and big brown eyes. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed. The birth of life. Unlike the life that he had taken the night before, and he saw not what was, but what could have been if it wasn't for his walk across the eggshells. Slowly and clumsily, the little baby chick waddled and crawled over to Grey and rested its head on Grey’s bloody paw. The chick gave a small chuckle-sounding chirp at the blood that began to stick to its tiny wing. The chick looked up with its twinkling, gleaming eyes at who the baby thought was its mother. Oh, how wrong it actually was.

As the humans opened the gate of the coop and shrieked at the sight of the wolf and eggshells. Grey the wolf pup closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.