'Fireya the White had a fondness for riddles,
If wrought with a cunning and guile.
Rixosa, her fool, held many in store,
That ever could make the Queen smile.'
The Annals of Old Moon
Riddle One
Swift as a spear thrust and soft as a sigh,
I'm stranger to crow's eye, a mystery to lark.
A gleam in the night's vault gives glint to my eye.
With gloves of fine leather I delve through the dark.
I scream and I listen and hunt to the hark.
I laugh at the feather, pour scorn 'pon the beak.
A dusty-backed damsel at dusken I seek.
Riddle-me-ree!
What could it be?
(clue: it's a real animal)
Riddle Two
Tanner's hand-strong yet supple and pliant,
I push ‘gainst the pull of a snicking hack-hack.
I am gaoler to gluttony’s harvest defiant,
And will gnash my tail raw before letting up slack.
Reflection’s offense is a cinch to attack.
My closed-hand embraces, though painful, console.
I am bound to keep dignity held high and whole.
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