Read: The Werewolf Epic

The Addition:

Now by her light the woodsman stalks the deer
drinking the moon in yon reflective pool,
its head lowered gently lapping the pale,
bright disk. Upon the dewy earth careful
he steps, drawing closer while drawing back
his bow. The shaft comes to his eye, and he
along that dart takes aim. At th’arrow’s swoosh,
the deer in panic turns its head too late;
into its side, into its heart, piercing,
the shaft embeds halfway its length. The deer,
in weakening struggle its hinds explode
in desperate leap. Falt’ring, it landing falls,
crumbling into the shallow pond. Racing
from the obscuring brush, his glinting knife,
as like a star, he brandishes. Into
the neck he quickly cuts, severing life
from body by spilling red blood. A flood,
crimson, over the moon’s image, that orb
en-cloaks, tinting her light in sacrifice.