I rarely rest but I feel her restlessly seek.
That gristled form slips through wherever it finds fluid.
Dreading the day when she bathes in my red, her coveted meat.

I can't remember what drew me there.
Some pull, some playfulness or curiosity.
I stumbled dumb upon her, far into the mire - The Huntress.
Her maw mocked a smile when she tasted my scent.
Her hunger became my doom.

I was spared through the violence of my revulsion.
Running, panting, pleading, emptying my bowel.
Headlong, back to the light.
A promise from the night behind
Her call resounding through the swamplands.
And like that promise she has shadowed me.

Tracked.
She bides her time pursuing through aquatic realms.
Mistress of the Drenched.
Less woman, barely hominid, more parasitic thing.
Running water heralds dread and panicked flight.
Through the taps, the cisterns, through the pipes, the drains.
Her song I hear it distantly. Diligent inhuman malice.
Memories of the time before grow dim.
Yet that night when I was marked as prey still haunts me.

Pursued.
Making my way day to day further inland.
She knows I know, I've heard the local news.
Rumours of the small, the sick, the dying.
They sate her while she hunts.
Dreading the day when she bathes in my red - her coveted meat.

Tracked.
The desert my final hope but I tire.
Arid lands my final hope but I thirst.
The desert my final hope but I tire.
Arid lands my final hope but I thirst.

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