Wander loud.
Stay off-key.

As we stole our way into the mountains 
We had molten our fears and despairs 
We stood apart and refused to walk in pairs. 
We became Mad Men too familiar with pain

The loud howl came from within,
And our poor souls immediately grew thin. 
The myth was real or so we gazed,
In the cold heat we shivered and freezed.

She looked surreal and big,
With grace did she pace her keep. 
We still hoped for a glimpse to catch, 
Covering our mouths with limbs we watched. 

She flapped one great wing and the other, 
Draguda, the black furred daughter of thunder. 
Her long slender tail with a sword on it's tail,black-furred
Flailed it's way about in the dark cave. 

Her eyes were red like the fire she spat,
Her Wolf nose shone, it was coral white. 
Her dark furred body was always silhouetted,
As she spread her eagle wings against the sky at 
Night. 

After we left the keep of myth, 
After we saw Her Majesty move with grace and
Power. 
We were never the same. 
When we returned home, we were gilded,
We just met the myth, we just met with legend.