She plants her boots until she’s rooted, and ready to engage.
The axe on her shoulder wielded by solid hands — a resolve to match.

A demon adversary with Goosander fangs enters the fray.
With mottled purple flesh, like Gloxinia Empresses, poised to attack.

A towering wolf. His fur, and the fog, are the same graphite gray.
Two legged, and familiar — body knotted like a lumberjack’s.

The wolf seeks her eyes where unspoken words are exchanged.
When the demon shrieks with violent rage, her wolf bellows back.

A third part of the earlier prompts, memory, and sublime.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s