In a forest dark and barren, feral eyes seek out prey. Underneath blankets of snow, they bear coats of grey. Together, they are united in a brotherhood-pack. Obligated, each wolf watches each other's back. Cloaked as they approach, they ache for that fatal blow. And above in an evergreen refuge sits death's witness, a crow. A creature whose sqwauking voices the victim's fate. Ravenously the wolves strike, for their hunger to sate.

Silver streaks swiftly overcome the petrified game. yet again the wolfpack renowns its daunting fame. But as quickly as they had come, they will go. And all that they leave behind is blood-stained snow. With whispered footsteps they trot away in an insinct pace. Like a ghost, they vanish into the trees without a trace.