The Call of the Wild

Buck did not read the newspapers, or he would have known that trouble was brewing, not alone for himself, but for every tide-water dog, stranger in the land, due to the great Klondike Gold Rush.

It was instinct, more than reasoning, that caused him to turn back, and face the wind, to get a quickening of his pulse; to hear the howl of the wind and the sharpness of the cold, to run, to run true to his nature as a wild beast, practical, artless, and free.

For he was a creature of the snow, the ice, the wilderness, In sync with each flake that danced about him, Until that single urge became a part of his very being.

He took that call, willingly and without regret, For the wild echoed through him in a profound clarity, He was King; and he belonged to this world, at last.

• Jack London