Wolf in the winter cold,
jaw narrow,
good for striking hard,
no brother by my side,
only fur on my back,
violent beast attacks,
downpour of teeth to flesh,
as my sword penetrates,
I feel its heart,
cold and black,
run through the sword,
and down my hand,
soul of this wolf,
not of this world,
for as soon as it passed,
the beast turned to ash.