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.
Her village, nothing more than scorched wood on a map. A cursed land. Mother says she owes her life to the wolves. At eighteen, sturdy, and ripe, she chops lumber, and lifts her axe with limber ease. The wind scratching her cheeks, so sublime, she fails to heed eventide until she hears them. Demons. Prowling beyond the brushwood, growling with hunger. A mixture of fear and purpose to mow them down until a familiar howl. The moon is whole, and his eyes, glow umber.
A continuation, but a separate poem, from the memory prompt. Trying to stick with nature/wood/mineral themes.
Her earliest memory. Burning lumber, and strangled screams. He feels as solid as hickory. The heady smell of soil, and the comfort of matted emery fur under her belly as she hangs bonelessly — draped over him like a mantle. Running. Running. Running. Two umber eyes are the last kindness she sees. Her adopted mother would find the sole survivor of a demon raid covered in wolf fur, hidden away, inside of a hollowed tree. ---- A/N: I have a bunch of other poems already completed too, but I'll upload a few at a time.
Darling! Darling! Tap tap tap! Her casement window rapped. On the other side — in the blackest of nights — a rakish, ruby-eyed chap. The demon king extends his hand to his lover behind the glass. I’ve come to whisk you away. Together, we shall lord over my domain. I promise vitality. I promise eternity. And of course — my ever lasting love. If only you take my hand. And with joyous alacrity, she accepted, and was never seen again.