Faces in the Crowd

The last traces of dying light picked out the females pelt as she lay, spread out, on one of the mighty rocks that stuck up out of the frozen ground along the mountains base. Green eyes gazed up at the beautifully painted sky, traces of pink, orange, red and yellow flung across the cloudless canvas. A hawk screamed from somewhere high above the fae, a single bluebird began it's final song. A breeze teased the girl's fur, blowing it gently along her spine.

As the sky darkened, the light faded, so did the usual sounds of the day. Sparrows and squirrels retreated to their burrows fearfully, while others, the hunters of the night, slipped out into the dark that was their day. All through this Tempest lay, and as the sun vanished beyond the horizon, she stood, a sudden urge overtaking her. She raised her elegant head to the darkness, and howled a beautiful ode to the night, to the wolf, to freedom.