The three in front are old & sick, they walk in front to set the pace of the running group lest they get left behind. There were five in the front group but sadly two have now gone.

The next five are the strongest & best, they are waiting for the old bastards in front of them to keel over so they can eat them.

The pack in the middle are always protected from any attack. These are the females. They’re happy to let their thick as pig shit husbands do the fighting. Oooh, yes. You go out on the Steppes, drink a bucket load of Caribou blood and you can’t fucking stop yourself can you?

The five behind them are also among the strongest & best; they are tasked to protect their arses if there is an attack but as Wolves have very few natural predators they really couldn’t give a fuck.

The last one is the leader. He has eaten the two from the front group so he is fat and slow and is lagging behind the rest but nobody dare say anything for fear of being eaten too. He is just waiting for one of the rearguard to get so hungry that he falls behind so he can devour that poor bastard too.

Just in case anyone wanted to know what it really means to be a leader. It’s not about being out front. It’s about making sure you survive even when everyone else is floundering. It’s about feasting as you watch others starve. It’s about hanging on to your crown at all costs even though your pack is moving away from you.

It’s about survival of the shittest.