The high-pitched whine of the bitter winter winds

echoes through the forest, seemingly the only respite

from that eerie stillness which comes with night.

Fresh white snow coats the forest floor,

so perfectly untouched that one could almost

fool themselves into believing they are alone –

until the illusion is shattered by the caw of a bird as dark as treachery.

The sudden thump-thump-thump of pawsteps quickly follows the raven’s cry,

as five sleek shapes with fur somewhere between

the pitch black of the sky and the pure white of the ground

streak across the forest floor,

in heavy pursuit of something that cannot be seen.

Just like that, they are gone again,

and the forest returns to total stillness –

until somewhere in the distance, a triumphant howl pierces through the darkness.