It Wasn't the Hunting

I'll go gather wood
 What I do I'll do good
 And when I have it in my fingers
 I hope I know
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 It was not the hunting that led me there
 It was ice in my hair
 And the wind from the western mansion
 And the mist from the eastern lodge
 It was the night's long lying
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 I'll find someone new
 And I'll not treat them like you do
 And when I have it in my fingers
 I hope I know
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 I hold the fingers firm and fair
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 I'll crack open streams
 Then I'll heat the water to clean
 And when I have it in my fingers
 I hope I know
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 It was my own heart that led me there
 It was the way I saw wolves' tracks
 Left the lair and just went back
 It was my new baby stare