Their pads sinking in the the snow as the wolves thundered by,

The wind blasting as few clouds pass in the sky,

The snow cold and frozen showing no sigh of melting,

As the wolves journey is just begining,

The hunt is on its way,

The wolves run and sway,

The weak ill and young are brought down,

The wolves happily let out great sound,

The new growing pups dig their faces in,

Then after cuddle in a temporary den,

And in the end the pups will be all grown,

Then years later they will thunder over the tundra with a pack of their own.