My feet are on the path. Questions no longer plague my heart, so I dance in Autumn's harvest wind. My mother's light is my armor, her claws shred the night. No fear have I to walk with the Lady of the Dark. My way is clear.
Death claims the wind.
The wolf snarls. He knows this path. It is treacherous and steep, but where it ends is not dark. Menu Dance Written by Brion McGinn and priorly published in The Issue, an independent student magazine on the University of Illinois campus. Distracted by the reflection, a lifetime Of memories pass by behind her quiet Contemplation.