A poem from the whispers of the forest after Taranis saves the she-wolf and her pups.
They say the storm once walked alone,
Through fire’s breath and forests blown.
A child of exile, ash, and flame,
Who bore no crown, yet earned his name.
He found her there the mother torn,
Her belly bruised, her breath still warm.
The hunters laughed. The kindling caught.
But mercy moved where rage was taught.
The wolves rose first with fang and howl.
Then he, with eyes that shook the boughs.
Through smoke he tore the yew’s black roots,
And bore her forth with bloodied boots.
The fire danced. The forest burned.
But in the blaze, a legend turned.
Three pups were born from soot and sky,
And none who watched tell you why.
One bore lightning on its spine,
One with eyes of gold, divine.
And one was pale as ghostly thread
The fire not fled, but burned instead.
Now whisperers call him Storm fire still,
The boy who chose not rage but will.
Who fed the flame and spared the beast,
And from that night, the howls increased.
Thank you for reading.© 2025 Emma Hewitt / StormborneLore. All rights reserved.Unauthorized copying or reproduction of this content is prohibited.
If you enjoyed this story, like, share, or leave a comment. Your support keeps the storm alive and the chronicles continuing.
If you would like to read more Taranis stories please see: The Prophecies and Tales of Taranis Unfolded
StormborneLore 