Walking At Dusk In The Woods Poem by Matthew B.Star

I walk alert, the woods are a dangerous place. I whip my head around, it shakes the heavy clock I am wearing.
My Conrad trails behind jabbering away, complaining, of all things!
I held up my gloved hand, he fell silent. He was experienced but quite foolish.
But he new better than to disobey.
I've spent my life gaining this much power, however very few respect it or even know its there,
just like the old ways.
My Conrad leaks a sound, not so much as a word as a muffled err, to bring me back to the present.
I say to him in our native tong 'we are running out of time, we must not be late.' he nods, and we continue into the dusk.