Guile alone will not save young Scorpan
Under the falling midnight snow, he sits
Inside him, silence and more eating at his mind
Like a lullaby of war with only one refrain:
This is all your fault,
Your deeds mark each equine form, freezing in the night

And so with all the stealth he can muster
Scorpan sneaks away, hiding among the stilled bodies of two conquered tribes

Snow offering him a single mercy
Inching flakes of ice to hide his tracks
Now he heads south, hope never crossing his mind