Sage
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It had begun as a distant cry, the echo of an echo of something sorrowful yet all too easily swallowed by the vastness of the ancient green and timber. Prey creatures turned their heads up, their ears perked, seeking the source, but went on their way. The trees moved scarcely at all, pushed by the wind and only thusly. Then, twice more. Thrice more.
Each time came louder, sharper, piercing through the boundless and careless wood. The leaves rippled, and their branches pulled respectfully away from the now-keening wail. Predators froze in their pursuits, prey in their escapes. Slowly the creatures settled themselves upon the forest floor, with its slow churning soil, as if they sought to hide within it.
The fourth did not rise from the throat of beast or man, and with it came the burning rains.
A great leviathan settled amidst a carpet of moss and vines, in a clearing that was not of nature's making, and trembled in its fury. The waters sizzled against its oaken hide.
The skies cried for it, now.
