The Brooding Stalker

All was silent through the night;

All but a rustling bush,

And followed liveliness into sight

Like when a creature waits to ambush.

All were heard in those cluttering claws,

And all was felt in a motion of jaws.

All was silent in the dale;

When dear Trasken walked it past -

And twice the leaves thrust in his gale

As he reached the spray's mast.

Above perched was with predator's eyes,

The reason of his prowling sacrifice.

The beast had teeth and a rugged hide,

And Trasken breathed every breath it took;

Lowering his gaze without much to bide -

Drew his sword and razed it by the brook.

Whence, a bruised shadow lowered into the cascade;

Missing broken bones; and the beast, a myth to evade.

All was silent through the night;

And to save harmony and peace at all,

Trasken slept a sleep of illusory plight -

Until the beast of preys made him fall.

There on, a brook was all but just a grave;

Both of the feared victim,

And the perished victor so brave.