Moonsong Glacier [BOO] In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

The howl rose and drowned the boy as he pled against it, but when permission was granted (of a sort) the air became preternaturally still again. Leaves caught in the draft were suspended in motes of fog with pinpricks of ice glinting off of them. The trees which had been bowed outwards with the force of the gale now came to rest and sagged in to their natural hang again.

The green settled now within the eye of Fjall; though hard to catch a glimpse, it was a sheen of color that was imperceptible. The feeling of a presence would now weigh upon the boy; he who had acquiesced the spirit's demand.

Home, sang the fog now, sorrowful. The spirit clinging in its way to the boy as a drowning sailor might grip to a float. We go... home. Now. Should this desire not be met, there would come a tightening to the boy's limbs as the spirit constricted, and the shadows bent to heed it.