She has what seems to be liquid silk attached to her head
Of onyx color that flows to the bed
With crimson tips and streaks of silver
That shine and glimmer.
Her gray eyes slant with grace
That enhances the beauty of her pale face
Short in height that may be
But her presence is there for all to see
The daughter of two powerful beings
But none believe what they are seeing
Her grace is only matched with her ferocity
Grinning and snarling comes from this monstrocity
Who hides within such a petite frame
That gives her a horrid fame.
She and the wolves share one line
That shall extend until the end of time.
She is the mother, they are the children
She is my ancestor, they are my brethren
She is known by many names
And known for many different fames
But she is connected with the wolf of shadow
She is the daughter of the Moon.