Cold King Wolf

Its the same hunger every night.
The blood lust after every fight.
Tests of strength failed,
and evil prevailed.
Though the wind blows cold,
He doubts not his courage will hold.
Though he has no pack,
To watch his back.

The blood of friends melts the snow on the ground,
but no loss will slow the young hound.
He gains strength as he grows,
all the while expanding what he knows.
Pushing himself every day,
expanding in every way.
He forever searches for a family his own,
but fails to reap what was so patiently sewn.

Finally the wolf sits king,
With many a pup under his wing.
He is steady as always,
proving persistence pays.
The cold does not reach him still,
Though not from anger, instead will.
The confident king sits atop his throne,
no longer atop his mountain alone.