No title

January 3, 2011
With hooves flailing and hearts pounding,
they canter through the wood.
A yelp is heard,
and then a twang,
as archers shoot them dead.
She looks around, nothing said, but swerves,
synchronizing with her herd, and they dash
into the trees.
As warriors they blend, and as warriors
they fall, right to the very end.

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