The Tale of Enora

[foxtale]

Something is very alluring to fear. It drives us, making important things clear.
A step on the ground seems a mile's stride - there's purpose to life when there's no place to hide.

And so, a handful of years ago, a girl raced through the woods with crippling woe.
With a winner in front and a terror behind, a crucial insight came to her mind.

The solution was simple, she had to let go - screaming, her lover fell in the snow.
An arrow she shot had lodged deeply inside, no thought of compassion, her heart filled with pride.

Only later at home, when the panic was gone, she questioned the terrible deed she had done.
It's one thing to act as she did to survive, but was she supposed to feel so alive?

[foxtale]

To answer this question, her way became lost; she ran from her life and soon grieved at the cost.
But as fate decided, she was herself found. Encouraged and trained by a man known as Hound.

She hunted with cunning, an axe and a bow, proving to him she was ready to grow.
Even alongside a girl of her kind – the bitter thing was, though, that fear made her blind.

No interest in friendship, no need for a guide, the craving she had was for brief tastes of might.
It banished the terror, scared sorrows away; for the balance of panic made predator prey.

Just one time the weight of this path had her strained, so in caring bliss, her teacher explained:
"The Weald does belong to they that can take it."
No doubt crossed her mind that she wanted to make it.

[foxtale]

In time the Hound left her in search of his fate; a different story, though he did find his mate.
The girl ventured out for the food chain's throne; a treacherous path for one human alone.

It's not hard to imagine she struggled at first, but a man in a mask found a use in her thirst.
He offered the hand that she needed to shine – a sorrowful day saw these forces combine.

Further along came a savage soul, who preached of a god that ate prey in the whole.
With respect for her goals he'd gift many a tool, then affirm her belief in the predator's rule.

But not all her encounters were as easy as those; in a bloodbath near stoneworks, a nemesis rose.
A witch tried to chain her and sell her away, but the girl's blackened heart washed the morals quite gray.

[foxtale]

Month after month passed in the lands of dread, and through trials and pain all reluctance was shed.
A dangerous girl, yet a scared little human, became nothing less than an iniquitous woman.

And the murderous creatures she once sought to best seemed like less of a threat if they were only impressed.
The Great Hunt was declared on the slaver that pained her, so the stalkers that watched would respect her strength later.

The witch in her soul harboured no such intent; in the time that since passed she had learned to repent.
But the huntress regardless closed in on her mark – what was thought a great deed became slaughter most dark.

Not the gods of the wild were what made her a beast, and the scars in her mind find no cure from a priest.
So next time you are jumped by the wild from it's flora, remember the circular tale of Enora.