The whispers of the land were hush, and even the wind could be heard.

The songs of birds were hush, and even the wind could be heard.

The taps on the floor were hush, and even the wind could be heard.

The howling of the wolves was hush, and even the wind could be heard.

But then the rush of the wind so strong grew hush, and nothing could be heard.

The sound of the wind retreated itself, as if to join one of its own.

Then all remained silent, deep, and dark.

From this silence came the roar of the wind, calling upon its victims.

It called and screamed in fury, but nobody moved.

The winds grew weary, and left without a worry, leaving a great scar.

The whispers of the land were hush, and the wind grew softer and softer.

The songs of birds were hush, and the wind grew softer and softer.

The taps on the floor were hush, and the wind grew softer and softer.

The howling of the wolves was hush, and the wind grew softer and softer.

The wind grew softer and softer, yet still it could be heard.