Last Stand

Standing stoic ‘midst twisted trees,

Rising waters rippling ‘bout her knees,

Lone warrior raises heavy blades,

Her boots set wide upon the graves-

Of comrades fallen, poached by fate,

All but she, but time grows late,

As shadows shift, enclosing swiftly.

As night descends, encroaching thusly,

Defiant shout she lets them hear,

Disregarding of her fear,

On they come, these beasts of nether,

Bearing claw, beak and feather,

Grimly accepted fate is this,

Lost to darkness, time and myth

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