Stavanger Bay lay low our warriors of old

Backdated a few hours in the past.

The true silence was heavy on her eardrums. All evening it had been quiet, the world holding its breath, and she with it. She was afraid, but dare not share her feelings. Something was coming, its impending wrath a heavy pressure behind her eyelids. It hurt her head, and so in the stillness of a waiting wood, she slept.

It was no wonder that, hours later, she woke to the screaming of wind. She was no longer afraid. A storm had descended, a heavy and total blackness that swallowed up the blue sky. Whether her family was awake or not, she couldn't tell. Her heart thudded a steady beat as she rose carefully, picking her way to the mouth of the den to peer into the inky darkness outside its mouth.

Here, the wind howled like the call of a wolf. Like the screeching of an eagle. And the leaves and branches writhed on the trees, ripped at by the cutting winds, flattened as though great wings beat them down. Now she knew to be afraid, but at the same time she wanted to be in the middle of it. Rain beat down steadily, and she wanted to feel it in her fur. She wanted to have the wind raise her up. Surely, if only she was out there, she could learn to fly.