In a forest glade,
hidden from the world,
beneath a Hemlock's shade
there lies a Fayre girl.
Her eyes; a wild, unknown green,
her hair; no colour known.
Her clothes glimmer the softest sheen,
the wilderness' her home.
The boughs the wind begins to shake,
her eyes fly open wide.
Startled, to her feet she leaps
and grasps the sword at her side.
"Curse ye; I fear not Death."
Her words echo around.
The Blackness laughs and closer creeps,
his movements shake the ground.
"The Frost boy thought that too."
His taunting laughter died.
Her head to her chest she bowed,
And a silent tear she cried.
"If I should die, so let it be,
but you shall not pass this way.
The boy Frost I will find and free,
and you my sword shall slay."