"Starving for you, you crazy special freak,"
She mutters to the nothingness beneath mountain's peak.
Long since past did she ever know why
In her sleep
Did she these words cry.
A sword in her hand, paint round her eye,
She quests through the land though she remembers not why.
Not why does she remember that she travels in the shade.
Not why does she remember that the reflection in her blade
Shows flames on her face, drawn up in Red,
The color of her cape, stained from the dead.
Dead embodiments of fear that lie in her wake
Had been armed with struggle, discomfort, and tears.
They slashed at her heart, their target, to break.
But still she moves forward away from her fears,
Toward that Nameless something, with bravery and strength.
And yet she is Lost, Completely she feels,
As she reaches the summit and sees only fields.
What is she seeking?
Why is she Lost?
For what is the Nameless that she pays this cost?
Beside a small spring she chooses to rest,
And in its reflection sees her bare chest.
Quickly she covers her cleavage with care.
For some reason she knows that Danger is there.
A tattered Red vest is now tightly zipped,
And she notices her cape had at one point been ripped.
Directly in half the thing had been torn,
Then resewn up the seam,
In haste, without care.
Perhaps as an apron this thing once was worn.
Beneath the blood stains, seems an H once was there.
She notices her legs as a chill is blown past;
Just a cloth round her waist and a black metal clasp.
On her feet are the only garments not ripped;
Tall boots lined with fur.
From her head was it clipped?
Enough, she decides, with this outer reflection.
And again now she moves in her Nameless direction.
"For what am I questing?"
She continues to ponder.
"Toward what do I travel?
Why do I wander?
Why do I hunger?
Why do I speak,
'Starving for you, you crazy special freak?'"