'Twas the midst of winter, a day so calm, so peaceful. The only Winter's day where the snowflakes and flurries fell at unbelievably beautiful ways. The sun shone brighter than at midst Summer's Eve, the light reflecting ever so elegantly off the pearly white snow. There was but a hint if greenery, except for the evergreens that were frosted with snow crystals. O' how beautiful the winter is most beautiful... Though that is just an opinion.
The distant calls of a lone Black Raven were heard by many from faraway places... and the calls were absolutely wonderful, though they sounded unemotional.. lonely, sad... hollow, empty.
That was how Raktoz described them. He sat amongst a boulder which perched gently near the mouth if his den, his tawny auditives flickering every which way to analyze the calls in-depth. It has been decided, as the great wolf lowered his head and slowly waded back into his fairly large den.
"Daetir, the Raven calls," said Raktoz. He laid by a beautiful fae, whose fur was as silky as warm milk and as soft as a wool blanket. The name she wields is Daetir, a name that rightfully fits her personality at best.
Hearing her brother speak, she opened her eyes revealing golden optics.
"May I speak the poem?" Raktoz asked, his voice wading swiftfully into the chilled air. His sky blue eyes showed his thoughts clearly, as he recited the Raven's poem of Midst Winter's Eve in his wise mind. Daetir peered out of sockets from an old skill she wears proudly upon her head as she spoke through he heavy British accent, "Of course, brother. Let the poem die and live 'til the next." Her words were true, and rang out with burning passion.
A faint smile appeared on Raktoz's toffee-hued face, as he opened his mouth to form the peaceful poem... which was thought as an old legend of the Black Ravens from the ancient but forgotten civilization.
"'Twas midst Winter's Eve.
The Black Ravens call to
Other animals receive..
The land known of covered by rich winter dew.
And to later, of which life starts anew...
The dim moonlight shines.
The diamond stars gleam bright,
As of the wolves whose head reclines..
A great howl touched by light,
A voice of integrity from wrong or from right.
The Ravens travel to and fro.
Their worshipped Black Feathers
Drifting elegantly below..
O' how peaceful of the weather,
To touch the Black Feathers with strong flakes as leather.
To whom we acknowledge?
The Ravens of course.
They possess great knowledge...
Unlike other birds, their calls not as hoarse,
Though calls hold of unbearable news to which some react with great remorse..."
Raktoz finished, his accent fading slowly. Daetir unleashed a heart-warming smile as his words were pure and thick with meaning. The Black Raven calls...
Where shall things lead...?
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Hope you guys liked it so far. Comment for more chapters.~ :3
