A Sentinel's Plight

By: Eirik Posted on: April 28, 2010

• An episode in the life of Vixen, the Sentinel House tutor, in three sonnets.

. Vixen

The air that rises from the Shrine of Death,

O'erripe and cloying, to my clothing clings.

Remaining here in Gaia's fane, its breath

Has bound to me the stench of dying things.

My dreams are veiled in brumes of blight. Mirage

Becomes my waking sight as all around

I see the trees in terrible montage,

Displayed as corpses prostrate on the ground.

My fevered brow foretells the burning fate

Of these beloved forests I have known.

In tortured silence, I am reticent to wait

Until the dry and crackling leaves have blown

Away. Into the Western woods I flee

Where once I walked in green tranquility.

II. The Handmaiden

Titania! O, Ithmia! Come see

A fallen servant of the wood. So pale

Her visage; hollow, haunted eyes has she.

Beyond the Zaphar, by the Elmwood trail

She lies upon a bed of ginger leaves.

Attend her wounds by some forgotten art

Which absolute recovery achieves.

To see an ailing Tsol'aa grieves my heart,

And I with pity have been deeply moved.

This one has been called Vixen. By her name

Her dedication to our cause is proved.

A Sentinel is she, of wide acclaim.

Make haste! My dryad sisters, to the weald!

In order that her spirit may be healed.

III. Titania

I wonder, will they hesitate to lend

The power of their groves to Vixen's aid,

If knowing that the cure itself may end

The vital bond to Nature they have made?

Begrudge them this decision, I will not;

And I, a Queen with hundreds in my care.

For life, in spite of all its joys, is fraught

With difficult decisions everywhere.

I sense a change within the woods will mark

A new beginning for these forest folk

Who Sentinels are called. Will they embark

Upon this journey? Will they bear the yoke

Of novelty? To uphold Nature's laws,

They must become the champions of Her cause.