Totoka River Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud;

Wolf of Promise, Wolf of Providence. 

Again, the summons drew up over the nightblack river, though this time it battled upward through a steadily pattering rain.

I call, I call.

And still, it was more of a conjuring than a song -- more a spell than a prayer. Her scent beckoned also, as it was her time, but she sung for those whom the wind did not reach. Due to the weather, it was darker this night than the first, meaning she would have to explore any potentials with little sight at her command.

This was night two of three; she would assess those who came near, if any, and on the fourth night she would choose the father of her children.