You may only understand most of this if you read the A Song of Ice and Fire series or watch the HBO Game of Thrones series
High up in the North, a lone wolf cries,
His pack has separated, and some have died.
He is a vengeful creature, as white as the snow,
He has red in his eyes; he is as quiet as a ghost.
His brother is fighting the lions, a frugal vicious side.
His mother right beside him, and a mate he tries to hide.
He listens to the howling grey wind, with vengeance in his heart.
To avenge his honoured father, who the lions tore apart.
Far down to the South, another wolfish cry,
This wolf placed, under a lion’s watchful eye.
She is unaware of the spiders that listen to her every word,
Some belong to the lioness, some belong to the bird.
Her sister is running, pursued by a hound,
One so ferocious, he tried to tear the mountain down.
Her fur is shorter, but her feet more light,
She dances on the water, a deadly shadow in the night.
Another scattered wolf, a small lame cub of the summer.
He pines not far from the North, calling for his mother.
While his pack is spread, the cub has matured and grown,
But the fate of his brothers and sisters, is a fate left unknown.
The youngest sleeps beside him, a tiny shaggy dog.
He forgets his home behind him, the picture as misty as fog.
He knows not of the world,of what he is becoming.
All he knows is that winter, is coming.