Born deep in the forest, far from the prying eyes of mortal men,
a small creature flits ceaselessly ‘round the perilous rack and fen.
It searches for a bit of *Magic* to keep it’s Age Olde Race intact,
snooping in the Neverlands, Stealthy Fugitive from Truth and Fact!
A raptor plummets from the sky, cruel talons spread…..
Shrill Scream of Pain….. THE ANCIENT TRIBE IS DEAD!
Forest Giants tremble, they moan this sad refrain,
“We’ll never see their like again, dancing naked in the rain!”