If you call one wolf, you invite the pack, A call that echoes through the forests black. A lone howl carried on the winds of night, A summons to the brethren's primal might.
A piercing cry that stirs the pack's desire, To gather, to hunt, to set the woods afire. For in the wild, they are one, a family strong, Unyielding, fierce, and bonded by a song.
One wolf's call reverberates with power, As others join in, hour after hour. Their voices harmonize in eerie tone, A chorus of wildness, a symphony of their own.
Their eyes aglow with the moon's pale light, Their teeth sharp, ready to take the fight. A pack united, they move as one, In pursuit of prey, their instincts honed.
They chase with speed, their paws pounding the ground, A synchronized dance, no words or sound. Their hunger driving them, a primal urge, A symphony of chaos, a feral surge.
They surround their target, with eyes ablaze, Their primal instincts guiding their ways. Teeth and claws tear through flesh and fur, As the pack devours, a fierce connoisseur.
But in their unity, a lesson lies, A truth that echoes, reaching for the skies. For when you call one wolf, you beckon them all, A force to be reckoned with, both mighty and tall.
So be mindful of the call you make, For it may rouse the pack, a choice at stake. For unity holds power, in pack or clan, A force to be reckoned with, both beast and man.
