Bramblepoint [BWP] Frosty Winds Made Moan

Over the week the cold would grow,
The grounds would freeze and thicken with snow,
The dancing, dervish winds would blow
And make the mortal shudder.

O'er land and sea the hallowed howl
of icy zephyr winds most foul
would cause the birds and beasts to scowl
and curses they would utter.

The sharp and biting chill of frost,
might make it seem all hope is lost,
and seek its toll and seize its cost
from those too old or weak.

A snowy blanket of moon-drunk white,
a parent's dread and child's delight,
would thicken and grow each passing night
a beautiful cape most bleak.

Those who fed on grass and leaf
pawing through snow found no relief
would leave the lands in disbelief
in search of greener pasture

But those with claws, teeth and fangs
fall prey to growing hunger pangs
and cry out in feral, starved harangues
in advent of disaster.

Written by @Niamh

I meant to snag this forever ago <3 likely a single post but can't resist

The Wintersmith was snarling tonight.  Maia shivered as she slunk through the trees in search of prey, but so far, it didn't seem like anything was out and about to be found.  They were all tucked away.  Like you should be, dummy.. Yikes it was cold.

Flakes swirled in front of her nose as they were kicked up by an errant wind and she snorted, wrinkling her muzzle against the icy claws.  Icy claws...

Winter's wind purrs and winds,
Tendrils merely curious,
Gentle within its master's binds,
Playful, never serious...

Till the storm clouds roll and steal the sun,
No longer can it bask.
It retaliates with claws of ice,
And takes even the cliffs to task.

Howling and cleaving through forest and fen,
It freezes all as it draws,
The warmth from those unlucky enough 
to be caught within those claws


She sat down and huddled against the wind, smiling as she pictured it slinking around her, a cougar-like entity formed entirely of mist and glowing white rage.  She supposed it made sense for the Wintersmith to have a companion.

Eventually it reaches the sky 
and slashes its way through the grey,
And once again the sun appears,
Drawn to resume the day.

Once more the wind winds down it's charge
And purrs with contented success,
Once more it stretches and winds to a close,
Tamed 'neath that golden caress.

She said the last line with a little bit of longing.  What she wouldn't give for a bit of sun right now, but instead, all she got was another blustery buffet from the subject of her poem.

Alright, alright.  I can take a hint, she said to no one, grinning.  Maybe it wasn't a fan of being the subject of poetry?  Or maybe her rhymes were off.  If you're a critic, next time, you do the poem and I'll listen.  She laughed, shaking her head, and then turned and began pushing her way through the snow towards home.

It was a little disappointing to be going back empty-pawed, but the story had cheered her up.  Maybe she'd save it for Wraen tonight if she managed to remember the words.