The Huntress
Spawn of the Matriarch
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As they would cross wheels
As they would polish rust
As one cut from the herd
The Huntress in pursuit
Pressing faster, unscathed
Racing through branches and thorns
Eyes sting from the wind
Teeth clenched
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The prey: overtaken
Treachery: to be repaid
Vengeance: the sweetest trophy
Honor: to be regained
Strike charges the air
The air, mingled with crimson
Crimson flows to the stream
Drink deep, victorious one!