I shall hang 500,000 antlers this winter!
Hopelessly Pretty: 2, 3, 1
Just the sound of your name sends a chill down my spine.
Hound: 6
Entry: The last of winter’s dying light
Sits humbly on the pale moon
Shadrach’s song is on your breath
You know not words but only tune
The forest’s banks have all turned white
Your path now a silent silk cocoon
Winter’s prayer is for him to bless
The wandering soul lost too soon
Frost dappled fur breaks through the night
And shines like silver spoon
He offers you safety against coming death
The hound who whispers ancient rune