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This is an intermission of the longer short story, The Lakemaid and the Wolf. The poem is inspired by the epic poem Beowulf.

The moon and the wolves, a magic that is binding.

When the full moon rises, the wolves begin to sing.

Our kingdom stood by the grey mountains, towers rising above the quiet lake.

We fought them all, giants, goblins, and heavenly monsters, our kingdom could not break.

For we were wolves, strong and fierce.

Nothing could stop us with our golden swords, silver shields, and long spears.

But from the depths of endless waters, she heard our battle cries.

And when she broke the surface, she knew, the wolves’ kingdom dies.

She tore down the bronze doors of our silver halls and broke into the throne room.

Without a warning, with no questions asked, she killed our King and Queen, and we were to follow soon.

Her claws were covered in blood, her eyes as black as night.

We knew, orphans of a dying kingdom, we would never behold a darker sight.

We fought her, this monster, with everything we had.

But her powers were greater, our desperation turned us almost mad.

She ripped through our kingdom with waves of darkness.

We pleaded for mercy, for the weak and the children, but she was heartless.

Wolfslayer, we named her, wrath of the sea.

She took our home, our kingdom, our light, she took all that we could see.

And finally, she looked to the sky, she beheld our precious light.

She turned our beloved moon against us, so we would never fight.

We would never fight again.

For we lost it all and fought in vain.

Made prisoners in our own bodies, once so powerful, now so weak.

With desperate eyes, we beheld our favourite light, shining silver on the mountain peak.

We still sing to the moon when the night is dark.

But the moon can’t listen anymore, travelling through the night sky, so distant, so stark.

The moon and the wolves, a magic that is binding.

When the full moon rises, the wolves begin to sing.

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