Tripping o’er the roots and stones,
Slipping in the mud and scattered leaves I run –
The horde thundering after me.
Heart pounding in rhythm with their drums
I carry on through darkened forests deep
Horns and bays of hounds
Tear through the trees after me.
Silver slivers the moonlight glimmers down
Through barren branches
Lighting there upon the path
Leading me deeper.
Drum beats faster
The flight continues.
Will I live or will I die?
Hunter’s horn is sounding closer
Behind, I hear their haunting cry,
But won’t look back now o’er my shoulder
Won’t turn around; I cannot stop
The pounding rumbles; it’s all I hear
They plan to chase until I drop.
Thrilling ever is the chase
That leads I know not where.
But, were I to lose this frenzied race…
What things would Meet me There?