are the dead really silent?
I smile and laugh softly at her question, pleased that she had been straightforward. It seemed as though many wolves mistook the meanings of their words. They tended to ask the wrong questions. ‘Who are you’ is a very different question than ‘what is your name’. “I am called Samhain. And you?” I step closer into the clearing, curious about this woman who seemed to be enjoying the rain as much as I was. There was a shift in the wind. For the first time in this meeting my eyes come off the woman. Orange and black pools look up into the falling sky. For a moment I enjoy the feeling of the rain that falls down my face, attentive to the drops as the roll over my fur. There is a bite and a nip, the cold storm promising of something more to be coming. I open my eyes and look back at the woman again. Carefully I step towards her, offering my nose to touch her lightly.
“I believe it will become cold soon. I know some shelter nearby, if you wish to join me. Unless your home is close?” There was a place I knew in the forest. It was sheltered from the coldest of winds, but permitted softer rains to mist into the shelter. Fallen logs created a comfort and a quiet, but still allowed for someone to watch a storm passing overhead. It was peace, it was quiet. It was mine, and only mine, to invite other souls to join in its solitude.
 lord; 4 falls; 41in/190lbs; fatelessXheartless; wandering ghost |