A muscular ragged monster,
The villagers called him.
Hides in the forest,
Stealthily moves, completely unseen
Able to spring arrows quickly,
Thrice a time from a taught sinew, bow string
All found their desired mark.
Master of Archery.
Villagers claim he is devoid of mercy
Kills any who steps in his way
That his voice finds any ear,
No matter how near or far his body hides
A laugh so wicked
It mortifies any nearby divine soul.
The villagers are petrified of him,
And of his rumored skills
This man was no monster made to haunt dreams
He was handsome-
Like a lion on his pride.
Like the fleeting sunlight as the artist painted the sky
No, this Forest Man was not immaculate;
Not perfect, not talkative,
not even trustful.
Too many meaningful people
grasped by the claws of the black, listless cloaked figure,
too many horrors that burned in his past-
Sister afraid of him
Brother that wished him ill
Father murdered in front of his childish eyes
He hunts animals
He did not want any man dead
Due to his hands.
Little did the villagers know,
He protects them from dangers ablaze,
From enemies destroying lives,
From burning down their quaint village,
Protecting it with no praises and
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