As I sat in the grass, swaying with the breeze,

Approached did the most curious creature, I'd ever see,

A scrawny beast stood tall as a hunting hound, with pelt dark as night,

Great blunt claws, emerald eyes full of fright,

The elongated ears of a vixen, the strong tufted tail of a lion.

It rose on hind legs at the plum tree, reaching with it's long, humanoid fingers at the bough,

Sniffing the ripe fruits carefully with it's petite pointed nose,

It draws back its head as it makes a selection.

The stem, cut with it's claws with ease,

And the fruit fell precisely into it's palm.

It slowly lowered back to the earth, sprawling its mass at the base of the tree,

As it gently ate its reward, I wrote silently to not startle the beast.

It is a soul of terrifying intelligence, and otherworldly grace,

It goes by names; The Moon Pacer, The Night Thief, The Dark Wanderer, and many more,

But one called to me, resonated with me the most;

The End Walker.