As I stand on an isolated mountaintop, looking into the valley below, this is my valley, a place that belong to me only me and mine. No one else would dare intruded on this place because they know who I am and I will not tolerate intruders. I see a vast graveyard of desolate barren trees. They stand naked, with a shred of their former majesty, sleeping the deep undisturbed sleep of winter, waiting the dawn of spring. I gazed at the shimmering daggers that grew in the trees, dagger of frozen ice as sharp and lethal as any weapon of man.
The pristine forest floor was covered with a new coat of diamonds, sparkling, and deadly cold. The fingers of Death lay waiting for any food that would are to intrude on this and dangerous land.
The wailing Banshee screamed through the valley. It looked to take your breath or life if it could. The north wind was like a ravenous hunger that never could be filled, unceasing and ever chilling.
My sun, the moon is chilling, a ghostly pale that no cheer, and any life. The frost ring glows like an eerie halo hovering, devouring all semblance of warmth, and emitting a deathly cold. Wisp of clouds fought to keep from freezing into icy fingers in the sky.
Standing here, I hear the pack calling me to join them. I long for them and I will soon join them, but I wanted you to see my world. My world is slowly fading away to the point of my extinction. My only enemy, man, is encroaching on my world, slowly destroying it and me.
I will do all I can to be free, until man wins this battle, which I know he, wills I will fight to live. I will live and enjoy this world of all and mine that belongs to me.