The moon raises high in the sky, and we watch it, with unwavering, yellow eyes.

Some name us demons, messengers sent from hell.
Others, name us angles, god’s helpers, sent to keep everything well.

Regardless of what you name us, we are what we are.
And that is of the Wolf Brethren, and we haunt you dreams from afar.

We keep to the shadows, and stay in the night.
One look at our gaze and you quiver in fright.

Yet, you are unknowingly drawn to our majesty and pride.
You watch us with awe on your face, wishing you could run alongside our strides.

We eye you with wisdom, and seem to know everything you hide,
Before turning around, and running into the forest as if we glide.

You never see us again, but we are forever etched into your mind.
And with that one meeting between us, it seems like we are forever entwined.

And though you may never see us again, you will hear us at night,
Crying to the moon, whom is our beacon of light.

I am of the Wolf Brethren, and that and more is true.
I am of the Wolf Brethren, sent by the Great Spirits to guide you.