I am fearfully rubbed, smeared with dark, drying black blood The Huntress smoothly takes the arrow out the creature, crumbled up, looks as though in sleep The Huntress picks up, slings her over her shoulders neatly
I hate her I cherish and mourn the blood that stains my peaceful green I vow to mark the place where the graceful deer had lain on But as I vow, a big set of doe-eyes peer at me through the dark gloom