I whispered to the Beast:
Begone!
Drought stood at the ready —
We swam on sand to flee.
Roaming dogs could smell
Fear, or was it fight
That we had within us
As we fled into the night.

In darkness we sat,
Our numbers light.
Cold, Queen of Ice, with us.

She spoke:
"Should it find you,
Scream my name
And tell it this:
O Beast! O tortured soul!
You are free.
Go as you please
Unto the world
That bore you.
I say it
and it is so."