Forgotten spells dripped from maiden's hair; magic trickled between the toes of furtive mushrooms.

We ran under starlight, our faces, beacons streaming through mossy forests.

We believed our freedoms, lacy wings shivering with flight, the horde king imprisoned, our ancestors dancing 'round fires.

Yet, one day, chickadees wept, berries became silent. a hushed, imbalanced wood, cast in malediction.

Selfish enrichment bubbled in bogs.

We wrapped our spirits with sour translucence, weeping fury bleeding tempests, breaking the roots of our own home.

We slink now in shadow, vigilant, risking small strikes, pelting rebellious petals windward.

One day, when spare hopes have passed, the moon will light our dangerous path into open sky.