Snow sat alone, unmoving, as if her paws had frozen to the icy ground, or melted into it, becoming one with the cold heart of the earth.

Her thoughts whirled like a blizzard, confusing and thick, difficult to pick apart.

She had never been satisfied, and the latest war had proven to much for Snow to bear on her weak shoulders.

Warg loped up to her, a cloud heavy with the rain of saliva and the light of words. Of comfort to his daughter.

He placed himself beside her, and weaved the prophecy from his tongue like a tapestry, his words roared like thunder to Snow's comparatively large ears.

He spoke, for he was the only wolf living who knew.

High above the mountain tops falls the snow, crunched underfoot by wolf paws, melting, freezing.

But this time, a slightly different prophecy left his voice:

High above the mountain tops falls the Snow, crunched underfoot by wolf paws, melting, freezing.

Nuzzling his daughter as she realised what was destined.

She saw only sadness in Warg's eyes, only longing.

Only pain.