There is a beast inside everyone. They proudly patrol their own territory and do not allow others to approach. Sometimes they lick the wounds on their bodies alone, gently and slowly, maybe there are still tears in the corners of their eyes, maybe the tears have been blown dry by the wind; the wounds may have gradually healed, but a scar remains in place, so unforgettable. These injured beasts just roared, hostile to everyone who might hurt them again, just like the coldest winter...
But... Maybe, they are also looking forward to a warm afternoon sun and a warm dream.