She   

                                                                             with

                                                                             golden

                                                                          eyes &

                                                                        shadow-dark

                                                                      furs t a l k s

                                                                   cobblestone streets

                                                                 in  the dead  of winter

                                                             one f  r i  g i d January.

                                                         H  o m  e i  s       b a r r  e n;

                                                  toofew deer    dwell in the     forest

                                           to feedsuch    f e r o  c i o u s     appetites.

                                 T  h i  s f i  e r c e   & f r i g  i dJ a n u a  r y,

                          Golden                  Eyes                  have                known

                      h  u n  g e r&d  e s  p e r  a t i o  n & d  e f  i a n  c e,

                 &   now       they will   know     f e a r.   Forty   lives     worth.

           The      time      has      come.                The      walls       they        built

        brought c  a t  a s t  r o p h  e, but  the      walls have       w  i t  h e r   e d.

     The   pack   has       starved                 & the    pack     has    learned:

          prey                 can walk                          on t w o              legs.

              Every     night   of      that   f  r i  g i d   January,    she    leads

                  themas    theyhaunt&    huntthe   alleyways,

                      s  p u  r n e  d by        the        scent

                         of warm     flesh &   cold      d r e a  d.

                            The  city is  s e i z  e din  a chokehold

                               of                blind   t e r r o r,

                                 it             will not            last,

                                      (blood   will spill   on the steps

                                          ofour Lady     of Paris)

                                          but  for now,  Golden Eyes

                                                & Dark Fur rule the

                                                         City     of Light

                                                                 one  f r i g i d

                                                                      January.