As the wintery fury of the wind and murky rain blows through the trees.
I feel nothing.
For i am the lone wolf, banished from the pack.
Stopping by a crashing burn, i watch the trees swaying.
Alone i wander through the wood of the souls.
Whimpering like a new born wolf cub, I lick my wound.
I lost the fight against the new contender
I am not my fathers son, he would of won.
Shamed my pack, shamed the souls of the dead.
I am in the land of wisdom, my fathers solid ground our territory.
Yet my soul feels nothing, I am the lone wolf.
My final stand, I will fall with my ancestors.
Howling in pain, laying down where my family souls are around.
This is me the lone wolf..