Their hearts were broken with the sad loss of the runt.
Their hunger was intense and they must start to hunt.
Shewolf took over and started to lead the brood.
She put past aside and started the search for food.
They had to go north with the change of the season.
That's where the prey is, and that was the main reason.
The pack spread out and started to hunt for new game,
No longer a quad pack, but the game was the same.
They headed up north now, through the tall grass and reeds.
They stayed near the river bank, it suited their needs.
They caused death each day and didn't feel any shame.
This was only nature and nobody's to blame.
The small pack was good at its job, and loved the hunt.
This is what they lived for and they loved to confront.
They had traveled north for weeks now, but weren't home yet.
Nothing would stop them, even a bear was no threat.
Day turned to night and night again to a new day.
Most every day was the same, there's no time to play.
The game was more plentiful each step of the way.
The blood thirst was as great as the need for foul play.
These three were bad to the core of their very soul.
To ignore their threats was dumb, and you'd pay the toll.
Animal or human they'd devour just the same.
When it came to stalking food it wasn't a game.
They were nearing their home and the pace had picked up.
Back home there would be no welcome or loving cup.
The jungle was safe for this unholy threesome.
It meant dense cover, game, protection and freedom.
They were home at last and maybe for good reason.
They thought so, and this was the hunting's best season.
They now looked for heavy cover or a good cave.
Their old one would do, it was the home of the brave.
They found it at last without much mental travail.
This den was perfect, their keen senses did prevail.
They had traversed jungles in this year of The Swan.
Shewolf now knew, as always, The Three Must Go On.