She slips past branches.
Runs past trees.
Her bow and quiver in her hand.
She rushes against the forceful wind.
And yet, she never makes a sound.
The moon makes her skin glow, flawless.
Her hair,a long, midnight braid that was a river when let loose.
Her target, a white stag, runs swiftly.
It avoids the false bird calls behind it.
It knows.
It has been hunted before.
The goddess runs swift as the wind.
Her feet barely touch the water as she leaps over it.
Hair blows in her face.
Brush it away.
She has no time to lose.
The stag runs into the fields.
The tall grasses do not stop the huntress.
The stag rushes into the darkest wood.
The darkness cannot hide it from her sharp eyes.
The stag rushes into the deepest cave.
The goddess will not stop to rest.

She keeps chasing.

The stag runs past the sharpest stones.
The goddess doesn't skin her knee.
The stag runs swims through the longest river.
The goddess mearly rides the wind.
The stag then finds no where to run.
It faces a high canyon wall.
She stops.
She aims.
But she refuses to fire.

She just turns and says, " You're free."

And she disappaers into the moonlight.