Lay deep in the lightly tread-ed forest.
A man sat trying to mend to his wrist.
Cut badly it was on a thorny bush.
Yet it looked as if it a bloody mush.
The moon was bright and round in the dark skies.
Showing behind a shrub a pair of eyes.
You could not tell to what they belonged to.
But he could see what he thought a clear view.
The beast started to maliciously growl.
It nastily hunched as it started to prowl.
It was time, for the beast showed dark intent.
Its nostrils flared cruelly with the scent.
No more waiting the silence had broken.
Before the last of screams had been spoken.