The forest's dying breath carried by the wind,
Reaching Melody's keen hearing and she sprang into action,
Melody is kind but thin, Everyone calls her Twig because,
No amount of bread ever seems to make her look less malnourished,
Melody ran in the cold, bitter winter's night desperate to answer a cry for aid from the woods beyond the village,
Barefooted and panting she arrived at the clearing, cloaked in her night gown under the moon's haunting glow, she finally spoke,
'What seems to be the matter, Old One? I have come as you command'
One by one, wolves circled the helpless child, maggots crawled out of the earth & the crows watched from their twisted perch,
Melody let out a feeble shriek and the frenzy begins,
Her flesh & bone gnawed clean, bits of her brain left for the insects to lay eggs, the toads in turn feasted on it, the crows claimed any pieces of meat scattered near & far,
The forest is now alive with howls from the pack, croaks from the pond & caws from the tree, the ground rumbled with glee,
Music has returned to the forest & Melody was the Key.