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Covering of Fire by David Barger 2009-10-29 09:49:05 |
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A fairy moved gracefully Overtop the undergrowth Of a dense and dark forest. A twig brushes her wing, As her back clinches in pain, When moments before Merely minutes ago A wolf had torn it With a clean and vicious swipe Of his powerful claw. Her beautiful wings, Only one left intact, Three fragments became the other Like a spider web Damaged by fallen twig Weaving in the air Limp and lifeless.
His paws raking Dead leaves with Each stride taken. The wolf leaps over A fallen tree rotting of decay. His nose in the air, Eyes rolled back into his head, Thinking on how she stole The crystal that was his; The lone trophy Which he had killed many for. His thoughts pause. He’s caught her scent. The soft smell Enriched of sweetness Laced with virtue, And the slightest hint of magic. Lunging forward He picks up speed. Wild thrusting movements Carry him onward After his sought prize.
Climbing a tall structured Oak She swiftly continues Light-footed upon the tree tops Clinging to the red crystal With its fire glow given name Harboring shards filled Of innocence lost tragically; The blood of the earth Its only known power. His shadow slipping In and out of the forest floor. A November wind Watching the chase Begins blowing In amorphous rhythm. Gust after gust Hitting her legs. One follows through Reaching her heel, And she falls Scraping against branch After branch until The ground collects Her broken pieces. A howl is heard Echoing past her ears! Gathering her strength She crawls to the watered edge Of the hindering marshes With crystal still in hand. She is swallowed by the water.
The wolf laps at the area Where she had fallen Tasting the green blood Left by her opened wounds. Her trail fades near The moonlit marsh waters. His form changes, Fur giving way to human likeness, Snout reverting in turn Though his skin tone Reflects the paleness Of the cold distant moon. His teeth hold firm To the dagger sharp canines. Looking towards her escape He finds only mud, A few broken branches Half waterlogged, And a church of cattails. Their fuzzy spikes Taunting him As the wind moves away. His anger increased Spreading out into a black mist! He moves over the water’s edge Then heads northeast. His cursing lingers In the night air Overlooked by the one Plant without a spike. She sits up out of the water Her energy slowly fading; Placing the fire crystal In the bed of cattails, Using the last of her fairy magic Green blood forms Leaving a cover At the water’s surface Where vines are arranged With white flowered petals Highlighted blue.
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