There was a young and sweet, Whose parents left her all alone; being one year old, she was laid down on a bed of cold, grey stone. How she survived nobody knew for the wood was so dark cold, but growing up she learned the truth and got a heart, as pure as gold.
And every time she ran through the and everytime she sang a song, there was this silvery light all around her everywhere she came along.
She did not fear the howling wolves, she did not fear the blackest night, were the family she´d lost so she grew up in might. The only thing that frightened her was when she heard the hunter´s shot, and every time this cruel man came there was a of tears and blood.
And every time she cried for the fallen and everytime he killed a deer, oh, how cried her hot, bitter tears, everytime this man was near.
So she did love and she did hate and grew a woman, wise and she lived life in a wonderland with so much magic to behold. She knew the wood, she knew the wolves, she knew the deers, they all were one, they played owls and unicorns, but then one day the girl was gone.
And then it rained as if heaven was crying for wood´s lady now was dead; so the beasts carried her to her meadows and in full bloom was her last bed.