On winter's night, bleak, frigid, still
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when breath is smoke in late night's chill
upon arctic gale winds she ventures forth,
healer of suffering, judge of life's worth.
To compassionate souls of earth and sky, she
remedies and purifies. To defiler hearts
eager to spread plague and poison, she
euthanizes, regardless of season. Weeaga,
shaman's daughter, healer of people oppressed
by greed and corruption's weal. Planetary
defender, preserver of life, sworn enemy to
exploiters and whores of strife. Thus like
a banshee, a warning to the wicked: to hear
her dark song is to be her next victim.