From whence came the sound of hounds.
The baying of the fragile crown.
No man could ride the fragile mare.
No woman wanted to.
For truth be told
the mare was foaled upon the midnight eve.
A dark and fierce grifter neared
gracing the mare with his magic.
The fae have struck when this one was born.
The wise could see it in the eyes.
Saturn's Premier Poet 