Literature
Her metamorphis in the snow.
In her eyes there were a thorn,
Filling her tears with blood,
And she cried in pain,
In anger, in fear,
She cried until she was empty,
Just a big hole,
inside her,
Filled with dust.
Her clothes were torn apart,
By wolves,
Her skin was filled,
With marks of their teeth,
But the wolves were gone.
And now she was alone,
In the snow,
She changed,
In the snow, darkened by her blood,
Her eyes turned yellow,
Her hair turned black,
The hands became paws,
And she could hear everything.
The hunters, far away,
Calling her name,
The raw barking of the dogs,
She rose,
The empty space was filled,
With a lust for blood.
The smell