Werewolf Hunter

A shadowy figure runs ahead.
Keeping low to the ground he flees through the woods, among the gnarled roots.
Leaves whip up and saunter down, rustling the nearby folk.
The faery's cackles echo through the woods.
Like a wolf, silent and deadly
Graceful he moves on the path.
Adorned in ivory, a blade stained rose.
Scars on his body are everlasting reminders of his past.
The moon is his lonely companion. The cry of the owl, his lullaby under the stars.
For his mind is consumed in hate, his lost love will he never hold in his arms again? She's not coming back, it keeps running through his mind.
Someone must pay.