The Black Wind Howls

Soft, gentle drips of water fall into a deep, silver bowl. The waves ripple, one after another, slowly resonating. It calls forth to its surroundings, beckoning its creator to gaze into it. Nearby, her eyes open, as she awakens from her slumber. It is night time, and to her, this moon is the moon of the morning, not the evening.

She lifts herself up from her humble place of rest, brushing an old, torn blanket to the side. She dons her black cloak, raising its wolf-like hood across her face, the faintest Strands of ivory white hair poking through the sides. Then, she hears the ripples. Curious, she walks to the pool of water, tracing along its surface with an outstretched finger. It glimmers with silver light, and glows with rising heat, steadily increasing with each passing moment.

An image appears in the waves, a sight with ever-changing frames, each signaled by another droplet of water from above. A red moon, coated in blood. Forgotten hands gently plucking the strings of a harp. A sword. A shield. A glaive. Three warriors. Vast armies. The light reborn, to be quelled anew. The living and the dead, together as one, bound by the strings of fate.

A winged terror. A fallen angel. And the light of hope. That life might prevail. That he might prevail. All of these things, shifting into her vision one after the other. And through it all, a reverberating sound, echoing louder and louder. The howl of a wolf. The call from the lord in the sky. Calling to her. What role would she play? The pool did not tell her this, for as quickly as it began, it ended.

It was interrupted by another figure entering the room. A black Hound, traced in gold. It slowly approaches the wolf queen, sitting in front of her, raising a paw. She kneels, and places her palm beneath it.

"What is it, little one? Do you have need of me?"

The blackened creature lowered its paw, rubbing its claw into the dirt. Renfri cocked her head at it.

"The dirt?"

It raised its head, it's ears darting up, as it turned, a ran through the flap of her tent. Renfri sighed, and followed it, yawning as she walked. It raced across her makeshift town, if you could call it that, and into the forest. She did not hesitate, and slowly followed it through the brush, with only moonlight to guide her.

No stall or trouble met her along her path, for here, she reigns as queen. Eventually, the spotted the wolf, breathing heavily as it rested in the center of a small clearing, tired from its sprint. She sat down next to it. "Tired, are you? As am I. What have you brought me here to see?"

The nearby trees began to rustle. Leaves began to fall, only a few, but enough for her to know something had perched itself in the branches. Then, she heard a caw. The distinct shriek of a Raven. Then another, then three, then ten, and so on, until all she heard was that noise. When it finally ceased, the wolf dug both its claws into the dirt. Renfri stopped for a moment, contemplating its meaning. Until she realized what it had meant.

"...Oh."

The Wolf raised its head into the sky, and howled. A long, drawn out lament into the night air, one which, like the raven it mourned, echoed in Renfris heart. Renfri disappeared, in that moment. She lowered her hood, stroking the head of the Hound in front of her. It prodded at her with its snout, circling around, and finding a seat comfortably in her lap. Renfri mourned the raven. Mourned her like the raven had once mourned her. To be plucked from among the living, just like that. It was cruel, and unjust. She imagined her fate had been much like her own: slain by one she trusted. For if she had learned anything, it was that death was a cruel, cruel spectre. And death would soon come to the world in full force, once again.