She had fire in her eyes,
Bejeweled as they were with emeralds.
He was a rising prince,
And tears were his pay back.
He ran in a pack,
While another howled at the moon,
And yet others embraced the darkness within,
Once friends, now traitors.
This was not a story of hate,
Nor was it a war bent on revenge,
Despite it being both,
In the end it was his love,
That died protecting what was their own,
It ended wars dearly won,
With years of deaths,
Fight and peace,
Emeralds, hazels, pools of silver and gold,
And much, much more.
Wisdom and strategy and owls white,
Two generations began to fight.
