In dawn’s bitter cold and most blinding wind, a vast cloud thus shrouds the land in grey and there invades and blankets all these rural lands.
To the far edges of the fields, there howl a hundred Coywolves, each in cascading echo that carries upward with the swift West wind.
The Puppy walks with a most tenacious step, looking to his right and far off to his left. With each measured step towards the altar in the vast open field, his ears and tail drop towards an awaiting acceptance.
Upon the splash of Holy water to his bowed head, there does all howling cease, the clouds part and the winds suddenly dissipate.
It is then that the warmth of the sun is revealed.
So it was.