- Main article: Books (Online)
- Author: Anonymous
But that was a different place,
much colder and not nearly so full of trees.
That was before I opened my eyes and shook off the sleep.
Now I walk the forest, not as a hunter,
but as a prey, hoping for a hunter,
hoping to be tracked, caught, and killed.
Wispmother, ethereal and strange,
do not be a ghost to me.
Snow Elf, do not be a legend.
Release me from this restless enchantment,
wrap me in your spell,
and let the last word on my lips be your name: