The night before my wedding, I am restless and awake
The fields yield ‘neath my form, wind wails over blades of grey
Before the feast and bedding and such liberties to take
Before the village swarms, cries “Rejoice! Rejoice, we say!”
It is not my betrothed I dread, he’s hardly hawk or snake
I’ve taken watch while he sleeps deep, our campfire’s length away
“Lover” I will not call him, “Betrothed” will suit us both
As my claws were never dull enough to bear the golden band
My tongue was never tame enough to relent and speak the oath
My heart was never soft enough to crave another’s hand
Yet still the pandar coaxed me out of the forest undergrowth
The church awaits come morning sun upon this festal land
The night before my wedding, I know well I’m out of place
I’m fond of nights alone, in the manner which I’ve fledged
I do not think to spare a glance to my betrothed’s sleeping face
My loving eyes are fixed instead on my axe’s sharpened edge
It is not a graceful weapon, I have never been one for grace
By trade I am an hunter, to the wild my life is pledged
That is what I was woven for as the Lord has made it so
Claws sharp and teeth bared and heart forever cold
The thrill of vicious hunts and isolation’s afterglow
To be a cautionary madman, tales children will be told
At night, the wolves will call to me to join the bloody throe
For all blood tastes like ichor and ichor tastes like gold
My betrothed is sleeping silent ere our wedding on that night
He must be just as tepid for this match that ruled our days
His cries of disappointment I must admit, I did requite
Unlike I, he was of many friends who spread rumors ablaze
Of his grousing to the pandar and sulking over plight
Of his jealous yearning when his sweetheart caught his gaze
He’d assured that he was not unhappy and that we would wed
Like any faithful man he’d go to church and take our vow
But despite my life’s seclusion, I know not to be misled
None of it I mulled on then, and consider it only now
As I watch him o’er my axe’s blade, the fire bathes him red
When then, the wind goes still and the wolves begin to howl
From the open plains wolves cry a hollow windstorm song
“Stand up, ye mad hunter, ye monster shackled down
You must know at his side you would never belong
Under cover of night, run now, leave this town
Your betrothed shan’t be even distressed you are gone
Take your claws, your axe, and come claim your crown
Take pride they fear you and your every affront
Let your betrothed wake alone, he won’t care to grieve
You are vagrant to night and beast of the hunt
You’re no consort to mercy, no spouse to reprieve
Your heart’s none but your own, ever-cold, ever-blunt
Stand up, ye mad hunter, and leave.”
And with the wolves’ words I’ve bent, for already I’m stood
Meadow air clears my ears while my mind dwells a blur
But I’m not on the fire’s fringes, beholding beckoning woods
I’m looming over my betrothed, and he’s beginning to stir
Grip loosens on the axe clutched far steadier than I should
It falls to the ground. The wolves shall no doubt demur
My betrothed has noticed little of me since we met
So he observes not my claws, nor crazed blood-moon eyes
Nor axe prone by his feet, a monstrous unspoken threat
The feral thing looking down watches him with his rise
“What disturbs you?” asks he with no tremble or fret
But the great howling choir inclines me no kind replies
The morning of my wedding, the chapel draws a crowd
Oaths are taken, rings exchanged, traditions we abide
As I merrily drink and dance in my dove white shroud
My groom stands content at his sweetheart’s side
We know better than the priest does what we have vowed
In life we bode well, so-called groom and bride
Love? Nay, we’ve no love, but neither one of us has wept
The sun will set and us two will not meet ardent delights
Instead we share a silent promise forever we have kept
It’s simple, it’s unspoken, we’d never need recite
I ask not of muddled blankets in the bed I haven’t slept
He asks not of bloody footprints that I track inside at night
