The Lore of Shaman Robert of the Valley aka 0xSpot

Long I tracked him. Scat and breath and bone. I listened for the howls. White as a ghost, that ancient wolf. When I hunted alone I spoke to him. Better hearer than most, his diamond eyes that promised me the force of power, if I could catch him. Traps and snares, arrows, illusions. Long I strayed off-course, but one day, warned by my faithful brown hare I waited as wolf walked across my path, and loosed an arrow. Between neck and chest, and in an instant, dead. No time for wrath, regret. They tell us that wizards know best. His bones my staff, his pelt my winter cloak— my changing-power conferred, ere I spoke.

Entered by: 0x000d…2FF3 and preserved on chain (see transaction)