Wildren Wood Introduction

There’s a strange dark place So very close to our home It’s the Ancient Old Wood Where none of us dare roam. We hunt at its fringes For none of us dare enter There is death and despair At its fearsome dark Centre. As we hunt at its fringes We just hear branch’s sighs. Sometimes the wind carries Loud shrieks and fierce cries. The fringes are dark The ground mud runny It never seems to dry even When it’s been full sunny. Our land here is beautiful And our lives here are good So long as we respect that Ancient living breathing wood. It’s been there since creation. It’s called the Ancient Wildren. We live in its shade for We are it’s Chosen Children.