A witch, a beautiful warrior maiden and a wolf.
THE BALLAD OF GORIN
Anana, swift of foot and wise,
ran beneath the starlit skies;
through the branch, gorse and wood
until atop a rise she stood.
The moon's light filtered through a cloud;
with tilted head she howled aloud.
When soon beside her knee a friend;
his life for hers he would defend.
So long ago upon this rise,
he stared into a witch's eyes.
A witch with jealous heart and mind
cursed his body new defined.
His days would always be in dens;
his nights alone, no love, no friend,
unless he bent to her desire;
his human form she would retire.
And so, upon this hill he stood.
A wolf with one who understood,
because he loved Anana so,
and with her he would always go.
But now the witch was in the sky.
Her foul shadow passing by.
He howled and in answer true,
Anana howled in union too.
From her hand their shot a lance,
not thrown with hope, or faith or chance.
Speeding fast to pierce the heart,
of she who kept these loves apart.
Striking once the evil crone,
fell from her ride with painful groan.
As she died her magic faded.
Its time long past, its actions jaded.
The wolf in painful transformation
suffered once more indignation.
For the changing did begin,
from hairy beast to human skin.
Anana was his love and savior.
No more the animal behavior,
would lead them in their nightly jaunts.
No more the howls through valley haunts.
And so the tale was told to me,
Anana and Gorin live free.
Far from the memories of that night,
when true love won a hellish fight.