I recall the countless snaps of strings on wood.
And the rush of air -- the signal of death.
The approach of death in flight.
I was once a champion with a dangerous secret-
Now old and gray, fingers trembling to grip a simple quill-
I have resigned myself to the light.
Those who follow the true path of the hunter need only seek the light -- I will be here.
Waiting for you to come.

- A hermit