The weather had been wild in all the lands; dark clouds had swirled and crashed across the free lands and packs; rains had swept new rivers into existence come the spring thaw and yet, as if all at once, the skies had cleared but for two or so days. Mist gathered in the folds of the land, peeling away only to return as the brisk nights returned; Beltane felt in her element. She felt a buzz in the air, a certain electricity that seemed to make her skin twitch and prickle with anticipation. It was only instinctive that she call out for others as the day waned on - a haunting, wailing sound across the free lands as she roamed.

As night fell, the moon began to rise, full and round. It hung low in the sky, a red star adjacent, as the sky remaine clear - but ah, only the fields remained as such. Dark clouds had begun to form towards the shores to the east, deep mists enveloping the moors and mountain valleys - but the fields? No, their maw lay agape to welcome the sky.

Beltane, like a mist of her own making, swirled among the grass and flowers as she watched up in fascination; she howled thrice more as the moon began to turn. First, it seemed to dark at its edges but soon the crimson spread across its face. Blood red; fall leaves; like a red eyes that peered down upon them all. She basked in its red glow, ever curious as to what strange fortune it foretold.