Poem found on birch bark about a fairy and the Horned Doe
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I found this poem in a book made of birch bark while researching the conflict between the Fae and Scarlet Horde. It's about a servant of Lady Yoru. I added some annotations on this copy. Keep it in case we use it for the Observations and Stories section of a future entry or something. I'll continue to do more research, but it is quite a chore reversing the mirror writing often used in Fae books. - M

From a midnight summer's dream of fairest folk,
Heed now this dreadful tale from the houses of oak.
There once was a servant who fell for a prince,
But he was already promised a bride long since.

The servant cried out to the night of her woe,
And her plea was answered by the Horned Doe.1
It spoke softly to her with words that enticed,
"I can end your great sorrow for a small price."

From her despair the servant began to hope
And unto the Mother of Them All2 she coped,
"What payment do you seek in return, great one?
Tell me now and I shall do what must be done!"

Then the Horned Doe said to her what was due,
"Give me your name to rewrite in scarlet hue."
The servant then chose to be both bold and rash,
And thus she betrayed dear Grandmother Yash.3

The Horned Doe took her name with an iron grip,
And shouted a cruel curse from her darkened lips.
The servant bowed her head in newfound devotion
As her name turned sour by her own temptation.

Thus gentle beauty became more like a beast.
Hunger took hold and demanded a grand feast.
Bandersnatch4 claws with a roaring voice like flies,
She glared into the night with the darkest eyes.

At last the girl sought to claim her dearest prize;
Flying forth like a jubjub bird5 through the skies.
She stormed the royal grounds in her grand pursuit,
But the guards were ready to banish the brute.

A knight upon a jabberwock6 struck the final blow,
And sent her all the way back to the Horned Doe.
'Twas the prince under the helm with vorpal7 sword.
His kingdom cheered and he did wed his burd.

The servant still hungers, so we must still flee;
Cautioning our kin of She Who Sees Through Trees.
From the tulgey8 wood she shall bring about dread
Where birch shadows lengthen and rivers run red.

Among the Scarlet Horde where death is aplenty,
She marches forth with her heart always empty.
Only in death shall come the end of her torment,
And may she rest then in the great Nevermeant.9

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