The Riders of the Storm-Sky

I heard your horns before the wind rose.

The hounds bayed in the marrow of trees,

their howls splitting bark from bone.

Then the riders came—

shadows cloaked in moonlight,

eyes burning like iron in the forge.

Your horses struck sparks from the sky,

and every cloud was trampled into storm.

I pressed myself to the earth.

It shuddered, knowing you.

The moss curled over my hands,

as if to hide me from your sight.

But still I saw you—

a thousand strong,

thunder and fire bound together,

passing through the veil.

Take me if you will,

but if you leave me behind,

let me carry the echo of your horns,

so that I may remember

what it is to run with the dead.