How dark and cold the deepest pit
Of mortal soul's despair.
So too, the darkness of the depths
Of Mythic Tigers' lair.

"Death's not the end," so say the gods,
Though it might as well be,
For all I owned of worldly goods
Lay on the stone 'neath me.

A drifting ghost, I drank too deep
Of death's most bitter wine,
And as I watched, the tiger lord
Laid claim to what was mine.

So thus it ends, my hope all gone,
In this dark tiger's den,
For should I use the silver thread,
I'll not find this again.

A light! A hope dawns! Who has dared
To lift my dark exile?
Ah, no, it seems a rogue has come
To steal my whole deathpile.

I've learned to expect nothing more
From those who walk this land,
Save greed and selfishness and theft
Of all that comes to hand.

But what is this? He leads away
That tiger boss, and then
He says to me "My healer wife
Will grant you life again."

He sends the call to wake his wife,
Who does indeed arrive.
She casts her spells, I find myself
Though sore, once more alive.

"We'll help you slay the boss," they say
"No, you deserve that kill."
"I thank you then; here is his drop,
To help pay the smith's bill."

With life and wealth and new-found friends
I leave that lair once more,
Nor will I be alone when next
I venture through its door.

The unexpected kindness of
A spirit touched with light...
One such I found within the dark
Of Tigers' lair last night.