"You, Lord Folken"

"I seem to recall a tree,
it's broad, pale, rippling trunk
enshrouded in ivy."

"Who "

"Deep, dark green ivy
that seemed to drip down
even as it climbed up."

"Who took you in "

"The den was there
amidst the cavernous roots
of that tree;
a yawning hole at its base
with a curtain of swaying ivy.

"Nighttime was soft,
the dark skies, the cool air,
the pliant grass beneath me.

"And the hunting call would slice,
smooth and electrifying
like a splice of lightning
down the sky, across the plain,
knifing across the edges
of the deep, dark green
woodland."

"Who took you in
when you were running "

"I was never nearly as fast
as my swift sisters;
I felt so helpless as my brothers,
so much stronger than I,
blew past in the chase.

"Mother was the only one
who would ever
lope back along the trail
to make sure I did not
fall too far behind.

"I did not want
to be Mother's burden;
and I did not want them
to tire of me,
to leave me behind,
to leave me alone—
No! Not alone,
never alone.

"That's why I began to run.
I would race the wind
through the grass
on my own.
And I grew stronger, faster,
until I could hold up
to the best of them.

"Finally, they turned to me,
bared they gleaming sharp teeth,
and smiled.
That made me proud."

"Who took you in
when you were running
wild "

"The men often say that my eyes
are feral, red with bloodlust,
mad as midwinter but winter
is cold, and I
was anything but cold
as I surged
like lightning,
like our clan's hunting cry,
burning a path through the softness of the night
on my first solo hunt.

"My life ended that first night:
The precious, precious dark
died with my last breath as a wolf
when your black dragon claws
closed around my body
and ripped me out of the deep, dark green
into your world,

Which you claimed was my world, too."

"Who took you in
when you were running
wild with the wolves?"

"You, Lord Folken."

But I don't think that you did so
out of pity,
no;
The wolves who were my family
were the only ones who pitied me.

You, Lord Folken,
merely wanted me.

The wolves have a word for that,
a despicable, ghastly word:

Greed.