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.

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.

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A/N: I have a bunch of other poems already completed too, but I'll upload a few at a time.