Chapter 38
Episode 38
Poem: The Hunters Cry
The wind, a keen-edged blade,
Slices through the pine-clad glade.
A hunter’s breath, a fleeting mist,
Upon the frozen world he’s kissed.
His eyes, like chips of obsidian gleam,
Reflecting a forgotten dream.
He stalks the elk, a shadow deep,
While ancient mountains vigil keep.
His traps lie hidden, cunningly set,
A silent promise, a hunter’s debt.
The valley sleeps, a world of white,
Beneath the moon’s ethereal light.
But in his heart, a primal fire,
Fueled by want, by deep desire.
He hears the cry, the whispered plea,
Of hunger’s gnawing agony.
Each snare he checks, each silent tread,
A prayer for sustenance, softly said.
For in this land, so wild and vast,
Survival’s die is ever cast.
His cry, a whisper on the breeze,
Lost to the ancient, stoic trees.