Frantic, the full moon at her back,
She tore through the briars,
Sharp pinpricks piercing tender flesh
As her eyes peered into the night
For a flash of silver fur.
The scarlet drops, trail of tears and blood,
Led her ever deeper into the forest,
And she trembled when she heard
His maddened roar of despair,
Form shifting despite his deepest groans.
Red and silver, colors of despiar, colors of his night
Of outrage at the Soul-less gods
Who so shaped him.
Weeping, she thrashed further inside
The tangled briars and branches,
Searching, longing, wanting oh, so much more
Than the sleek fur, the pained eyes shining through the bleak night.