With silence they arrived,
then a knock on the gates…
Pounding! We rise to feet!
There-there, howling rises.
The furry stalkers, deprived,
hungry they are, yet it waits.
The leaders of the pack retreat.
And we are yet to ponder prices.
They hide and observe.
Lurking, concealed by the shadows.
But tricks they try to make!
We are adamant, unyielding, but in fear.
Countless pairs of eyes, they starve,
in hunger, the prowlers of meadows,
are awaiting our demise. Awake!
Men of the fort! Hold tight your spear!
Wolves encircle the walls.
They are waiting peacefully.
Observing us yet – plans arise!
We are doomed! Yet to die…
During the night we hear the calls.
The gates are open, they came easily.
In sheep’s clothing, with bloody lies!
Only the wilderness hears the last cry!