The next morning, the day of the dreaded Presentation, I was woken up by the wind that blew cold air into my room. It was so cold that I was shivering and werewolves didn't shiver, but the wind wouldn’t stop. It just kept on blowing and blowing relentlessly, the sound of piercing wind that whistled making me wince.
It felt like a warning, the same way it was the day I arrived back at the fortress.
The wind. The tense atmosphere. The impending doom that was in the air.
An omen.
A terrible sign that something was going to go horribly wrong.
As if to prove my point, the wind picks up once more, louder and harder than ever before.
There was no backing out now though.
Thousands upon thousands of werewolves of all ranks and bloodlines from all over the world were already camped outside t
