Whispers from the Hunter's Vase
by @PadanFain
_I hear the roar of the Wild Hunt_
_the forest is no bar to your call_
_the Spine cannot hold me from the North_
_I stalk the path to the Emerald Hall_
not on my back, or behind the knife driven into it
but with weathered hands in harder, harsher lands
lessons learned, the color of blood and sweat
cast down upon the granite altars of the Monarch
_could you feel me there?_
_as I have eternally followed in the distance_
_I have never lost your trail_
_you have never lost your tail_
the time has not been kind, and for your beauty
I have grown older, colder, bolder, and harsher in my ways
yet still blooming for your touch, for my reason to live on
for a warmth that only northern gods whisper isn't gone
_I see the path, stretching through the Pit_
_aflame in the light of countless dying moons_
_pawprints your love still leaves_
_filled with salt-water and sentiment_
and this place is sediment, cold blood running in it's hot streets
and with dirty feet, I will stumble past it's northern reach
to the edge of your fingertips, to the bridge that leads to you,
to the scent of evergreens, and the end that holds my death
_but I will not die before I can tell,_
_the path to paradise_
_doesn't begin and end in hell_
_call to me_
_I have not been idle_
_call to me_
_she for whom the arrow breaks_
_call to me_
_my life's one and only endless love_
_call to me_
_I'll be there_
_Tidewalker, call to me_