A poem inspired by the scraps of rhyme that accompany the Frostwolf Ghostpup. It isn't my best, but it's the least the poor little pup deserves.
I hope you guys enjoy it.
Born to flame and bitter cold
With fur like sun-bleached bone,
The creatures on crags of old
Heed the call of the lone,
Forgotten Frostwolf's Lament.
It echoes on the snowdrift plain
And trails her master went
When he left her to be slain
By the black-furred beasts of night.
Yet still the song resounds
When the moon casts a light
Across the ancient, snowy mounds
Still ripe with memories of eld,
Still calling out where she was felled
For master to be held.