And the stars were alight,
And wind sighed over hill, grass, and tree.
And in houses we slept,
Safe and sound in our beds,
Outside Dark Park woke fey and woke free.
Colours to black did run,
Form and shape were undone,
The air clutched and cut like a knife.
And reaching into our world,
With a twist and unfurl,
Hidden creatures were stretched into life.
With a blazing bright touch
She shook and swept into the sky.
Her home was undone,
And her children were gone,
Still she took wild joy in to fly.
Then out of the dark,
Came a thing with no heart,
Ankalor - both wicked and cruel.
He for long there had dwelt,
Waiting for day to melt,
For to find him a pretty young fool.
Bright Owl landed now,
On the back of a cow,
Tucked her wings right down by her side.
Ankalor drew near,
And he said, “Oh, my dear,
How glad I am you have arrived.”
Now Ankalor was sly,
Though he never was wise,
He had countless desires in his life.
But of all of his needs,
Of all of his greeds,
The most pressing was to find him a wife.
Bright Owl turned her head,
And she sighed and she said,
“Tell me why I should spend time on you?”
Ankalor did grin,
A gaunt hideous thing,
“If you don’t, then this day will you rue.”
“I will make it my aim,
To heap pain upon pain,
I will hunt all your children and feast.
I will scour the land,
‘Till they all I have found,
From furthest West to the utterest East.”
Bright Owl hollow-chuckled,
Her feathers unruffled,
Though deep down her anger awoke.
“Oh, is that what you say?
My dear, then this day,
All hesitations will I revoke.”
So Ankalor he smiled,
His gaze it grew mild,
He held out a cracked, gnarled claw.
“Then give me your hand,
And give me your land,
Become bound to me under the law.”
Bright Owl shed a false tear,
Feigning panic and fear,
And slowly extended one wing.
But when the wing it was grasped,
She laughed and she gasped,
“Now it’s I who have you, you poor thing!”
Ankalor tried to pull free,
He tried hard to flee,
But her grip was like iron and ice.
“You think you’re so vile,
You think me to defile.
But I’ve hunted more in my time than just mice!”
Bright Owl seemed to grow,
The world seemed to slow,
Ankalor writhed and hissed as she struck.
But no pity did she show,
For no pity was owed,
And Ankalor was quite out of luck.
The world it was still,
Once she had ate her fill,
Bright Owl smiled and looked suddenly fey.
Life had taken its toll,
On her mind and her soul,
Still she took wild joy into slay.
The moon it hung bright,
As Bright Owl took her flight,
Flitting off over hill, grass, and tree.
Her children were gone,
An undoable wrong.
But she still was full wild and full free.
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