Ode to Pelril
by Avathar Valcana

A little poem about an adventure in the early life of a quiet woodsman:

I was born of elf and man,
My life for ten score will span,
Raised on a ranch of horses,
Living three separate courses;

First, I am a rancher's hand,
For the ranch is poorly manned,
Just my brothers and I farm,
Since my father came to harm;

Next, a ranger tried and true,
And with nature can commune,
Handy with sword and bow,
Better than most I know;

Last, a priest of healing faith,
To protect and keep you safe,
To keep from demons your soul,
As my love for all unfolds;

Sent out to catch a horse thief,
Searched from stone to stray leaf,
For hours without a track,
Finally, I headed back;

Just then, the wind mussed my hair,
And I knew the thief had rode the air,
I prayed a sign give unto me,
Then a feather I did see;

I tracked through guidance divine,
Until a shiver went up my spine,
With a screech, claws raked by back,
'Twas a griffin on the attack;

Pulled my bow hoping to kill,
I spied a horse, that lay too damn still,
Filled with fear and unable to move,
Destined to die, I now knew;

Circled again in the sky,
Furled it's wings into a dive,
Loosed an arrow, then I saw red,
I thought of the life I had led;

As darkness swiftly rushed in,
Felt proud of what I had been,
Then light flooded into view,
Red-brown hair with eyes of blue;

I found I clung to life still,
The griffin was her first kill,
She saved me and I owed her,
From this day on, her protecter.