Out into the dark forest I will go. I will wait for him, not patiently, but I will wait; at the mouth of an ebony river, listening to what the Mother has to say.
And out into the thick dark forest he will go, hunting for me. Searching like my warm breath on his neck keeps his heart beating.
From miles away he will hear me whisper his name, my love rippling through the soil.
Leaves will fall with the trembling of my hands, just before they rest on his shoulders.
And in the unearthly spotlight we will be guided into the lustrous mist.
And we will thrash and thunder and bang and crash, triggering landslides.
We will march on, our hands clasped with a fierceness nearly flammable, fire threat level: crimson.