Don't you see me in the mist?
Or in the woods,
Or in the air you breathe?
Maybe you see me in the clouds.
Or in the fire of life,
Or in the clothes you wear.
Don't you feel me in the heat?
Or in the lakes of calm,
Or in the darkness in which you can't see?
Maybe you see me when you look within,
For I am the instinct by which you live.
I am everywhere.
I am everything.
I am life.
I am death.
I am....the hunt.
The hunt which drives you on so wild,
So far, so free.
The hunt by which you hear, live, breathe, and see.
I am....the hunt.
The hunt who brings the balance,
To this world of the damned.
For every life,
There is death.
For every good,
There is evil.
Aye.
I am....the hunt.

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Severin, in the year 63 MA.