A Cold Wind Blows

The door banged open and in stumbled a guard, clutching at the arrow sticking from his shoulder. He managed a single “ser” before collapsing. His shoulder and arm were cold as ice and his skin white as a sheet. It took the best healers the knights had to determine what had happened. The arrow was cruel and barbed yes, but no poison had coated the head. It was a darker wound, only elvish medicine could help…
When he was roused again and questioned it was sheer terror they saw in his eyes.
“It was the huntress ser, the one what keeps the little cabin for vagrants. We had report she came blastin’ through the gates, ridin’ on a whirlwind, as it were. Me an’ Brody were on patrol, asked to keep a sharp eye, the gate guards said there was sum’in wrong with her. Well we found her horse wandering about master Zargudun’s place, all sweatin and latherin. He was a chompin at his bit and rollin his eyes. She rode him fast and hard she did.
Well there was a great ruckus a comin from his place and his door was hangin off the hinges, or what was left of em. So we step up and have a look about.”
Here he sits up, his eyes grow wide, he looks furtively about and his voice drops to a whisper, he grows even paler. “It was her Ser, the huntress. I never learnt her name right, she’s always in an out. She was always a swarty one, bein out in the wilds constant, under the sun, but she was pale as death. She had a wild look in her eye and she was thrashin the place, screaming empty sounds as she did. Well, me and Brody jus stood there in shock, but she sensed us. She whirls about bringing her bow up an shot me, speakin some black words as she did. The room got dark and Brody dropped like a rock, I think his heart gave out.
“I ran ser, I’m sorry to say it but I ran like a scaert child. I don’ know what happened to her but she’s gone all wrong now, all wrong.”
He doesn’t know any more than that but just then the horn blows at the gate…
When the knights arrived at the gate they saw it smashed through, from the inside. The two gate guards had arrows, with the same barbed heads, shot through their chests. Ulfban had gone...
Her horse, a beautiful elven beast from the valley had finally calmed down and wandered about by the waterfall, drinking his fill and enjoying the sweet grass. Zargodon’s home was smashed and wrecked; she had turned the place upside-down looking for something. Perhaps the only clue was a map lying under an upturned table, a dark burn marking the region of Angmar…
Later that night, just as the moon was rising a terrible howling sprang up out of the dark. A huge pack of wolves was ringing the town howling and slavering. Staying out of bow range and the light they terrorized the place yammering away until just at midnight the whole pack set out to the north, their terrible calls slowly fading into the distance. The last sound heard was a terrible screaming howl, not from any animals lips did it come; the sound stopped children’s hearts and filled men’s veins with ice. It was terrible and cruel, all fury and sorrow. In its wake a cold wind sprang up, gentle at first, it slowly gathered power until it was a raging fury, a towering black cloud of anguish and anger howling away to the north.