Answer:
I row quickly with four oars but never comes out from under my own roof.
I am so delicious that I require a house to contain me.
I break away from my pack. I create holes in my victims. I can travel for miles and then disappear. I am part of a dying breed. What am I?
Cloud is my mother, wind is my father. What am I?
I can point in every direction but can't reach the destination by myself. What am I?
Almost everyone needs it, asks for it, gives it. But almost nobody takes it.