Where Legends Gather - The Harbinger of Doom v0.3

Where Legends Gather
The Harbinger of Doom
v0.3
7.22.14

If ever you find yourself traveling through the woods
And sense you are being watched, your instincts do not fail you.
Many travelers have told tales of a pair of emerald lights that stare (gaze?) intently.
They shine through the darkness, slice and slash and cut through them as a scythe to stalks of wheat.
They say a dark, sickly, figure stands in the distance,
Thin and tall a shadow that stands still and instills in you nothing but dread.
A crow suddenly appears nearby and it calls:
Caw,
Caw,
Caw.
The calls, the cry, bounces nearer and nearer,
The distant figure still (and cold) as stone.
Travelers yearn (urge?) to avoid these dark winds.

The sense of dread never dies, travelers have said,
So long as the dark messenger is near you.
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(^ So long as the dark messenger is near you,
The sense of dread never dies, travelers have said(?))
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If traversing the twisted treelines, you find empty camps,
And hear silence where wildlife should chirp and call,
You may have found a place victim to the dark figure in the woods.