In the night wood I tread softly;
the leaves no rustling make.
The moss absorbs my footsteps,
and the stones cover my wake.
Yet throughout my silent travels,
in my head there is a tune;
my blood sings with the magic, while
the wolves sing with the moon.
I do not fear the fanged ones
on their swift and silent paws,
for I was there in the darkness
before the birth of the stars.
I was there at their dawning, and
I will be there at their end.
I am neither creator nor destroyer,
but in the night forest I tread.