A roaring wind comes, not soft, but a storm, thunder and lightning, waves crash on the shore.
Up on the crags, with the rain beating down, the girl stands in the midst, her hair streaming down. The rain falls in rivulets, so no tears are seen, the thunder is loud, hiding her screams.
She looks to the water, as it rages below, as her heart longs to leap, to her knees she then goes, her legs are so weak, so shaken with cold, no strength in her bones. Her faces she lifts up, to the moon pulling through, her whisper is faint, with the winds howling too. How long will she stay, drenched in cold on the crags? How long will it be till her soul heals at last?