Blinding snow obscures the moon,
Stinging waves of crystals,
A rose is blooming months too soon,
Eyes like violet jewels,

Starlight reflected off of silver stakes,
Chosen weapon of her enemy,
A hunter skulking through snowy brakes,
Following her infamy,
Laughter sounds inside his mind,
A phantom hand's caress,
Another trick of their damnable kind,
Intended to render stress,

A lull in the gale reveals a shape,
The hunter's hand drops to his stake,
Leaving no impression on the glittering snow,
Rose blurs forward in a preternatural show,
But the hunter is ready as battle is joined,
He was baptized in blood and has a will of iron,

A silver blade appears in his hand,
As Rose moves in for the kill,
A beautiful death against which none can stand,
Time seems to nearly still,
Twin streaks of silver cleave the air,
And this roses thorns are bared,
Hands hooked into claws to tear and rend,
Time resumes as the hunter meets his end,

Crimson roses taint the snow,
Laughter carries as the wind begins to blow,
The body cools as life recedes,
Violet jewels, the final thing he sees.