So this is what I came out with when I was listening to Colour of the Wind from the Pocahontas movie and then the Misty Mountains from the Hobbit.
The Poem - Misty Mountains like tune
Aster's chest heaved as he stared around at the barren earth. What once was green and vibrant with colours was now covered in black chars and roaring fires. Agonizing pain rippled through him as he felt one by one of his kind begin to fade.
What once was a brilliant song of all clans: the beating drums and music flowers of the spring clans, the rustling leaves and flutes of the autumn clans, summer clans harp symphony to the winter tribes clinking ice and fife tune was now gone. Only his song remained, but he couldn't give up hope. He couldn't give up hope that there could be someone still alive.
"Oh god…" Aster choked out as he tore his shredded robes from him. He and his Da were on their way to the Season Meeting when the Fearlings and nightmares struck unannounced. Kozmotis's laughter echoing over the screams of his home, they had barely gotten their weapons before the Fearlings began to strike them.
"NO!" He screamed as he pushed himself towards where he knew his Dam was last. He knew that all the people in Bunnymund Village were gone, he was there when the fire began and where the Fearlings took out the unsuspecting Pooka's.
His feet beat against the ground in a way that seemed to echo the beat of his heart and the drums that were heard on the wind pushing in forward. He could see the ground becoming darker and muddier as he passed Pooka's of all season and slain fearlings. So many were gone, so many heart songs snuffed from the great song.
"DAM!" Aster cried as he bound over the last hill, his eyes landing on the burning warren of the seasons before landing on the familiar colourings of his Dam's armour.
His heart's beat was loud in his ears as he rushed over to his Dam, pulling her into his arms. Her jasper and emerald eyes wide and unseeing as blood coated her fur. Aster sobbed as he rocked his Dam back and forth, letting the grief flow. He will let his agony show for this, he will cry for his family, for his race and then he will never shed a tear again.
He will search for others, burring who he found and then leaving his home of Gallifrey to find another. He could feel the hope, the one that burned in the middle of his planets core begin to dwindle; he would do everything and anything to protect it. Hide it away and then he will take revenge on S'motis for all he had done.
"I'm sorry Dam," he choked out before grabbing his mother's weapons and holstering them in Felonwood's discarded bandolier, the worn leather sitting comfortingly on his fur. If he could do one thing, one thing it would to be wearing the Tribe's leaders markings in battle, he would honour them this way.
With a steely resolve Aster stood and lifted his dam with him, carefully walking to the Blackhaw tree that represented his mother and placed her carefully in its roots. Closing his eyes he tapped his foot softly once and watched as the roots rise and covers his Dam in a coffin.
From the river to the sea,
From the mountains to the plain
You can hear the wind whispering their name
From the songs of the Autumn's tribe.
To the beats of the Summer clan's drums
With the aid of Winters coldness
And the Spring clans endless hope
You will remember them
For our loss are still with us
Their spirit with ours,
We will always treasure them
With the last line of the mourning song, Aster turned away and began to move the leaders of the tribes to their own marking plants and did the same thing, only stopping to remove the bracers from Bearberry Thatch; the summer tribes leader. The only one he couldn't find was the Winter Tribes chief.
With a shake of his head and one last look over the area Aster left, burying those he came across in search for any live Pooka. He will search the whole planet if he had to, he just had to hold out hope.
A/N: Hopefully this had feels. If it did, I'm sorry.