Earl King will do you grevious harm.
If your parents warn you about witches and gouls and monsters under the bed, they should warn you too of the Earl King. Child-snatcher. Wood-eater. King of the hunt.
And as beautiful as a summer's night. He is like the throne of the forest. White as birch, a perch for birds and small beasts. Where he treads in the leafy aisles between trees he leaves no tracks. Nightingales nest in his antlers, morning doves, and love birds. Entire dawn choruses are sung from his antlers.
Like a timid fawn, he approaches children and shy maidens. But timid fawns do not have eyes as old as the woods themselves. They do not have eyes with teeth. They do not swallow people whole.
Where the woods go, he goes. Where the hunt goes, he goes. If you dream of a bow and arrow, of Orion the hunter, of the path the moon carries through the night, you may wake to see the Earl King in the shadows of your room. And it will be too late to make a sound.
Earl King is silent.
Earl King means you grevious harm.
Art by Stephanie Pui-Mun
Text by Lucie MacAulay
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