Beneath tree-corpses and no moonlight
Entrance the glen, like that of a wolf
Hallow eye-holes, and empty rib-caves,
On crawl the soon-dead, they won't get far.
Linked now forever, skin curling off.
Dead they were by fire's light.

Slaked is the ritual's thirst,
Knives in the thirteen-trees
In words not spoken, only screamed
Netherworldly bone pieces
Walk the earth again.
And animal I am,
Life leaving fast - the magic is strong
Know you yet your truest fear?
Even now your fate is written in blood...
Return of the Skinwalker

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