The evening sky has
wind enough
for lightless wings
to catch and lift.
I sail across a
hunter's moon.
As stars arrive,
I scry a gift.
Staked upon a barren hill,
stands a maiden pale
with tender fear.
As I plung quickly near,
an iron soul contests
my prize, offering death
in a pitiless dance
with shield and lance.
Fire, I give,
meeting this warrior
scream for scream,
I am the nightmare
that has torn free
of his darkest dream.
I come from dark warrens--
lantern eyes, unlidded,
alight with flame.
Slithering from a nest
of marrow-drained bone
and failed armor, I come
for those that curse my name.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!

Come feed me your steel!