Voices on the Wind

She walked in darkness, her white dress rustling in the directionless wind. “I have come,” she said.

“Yes,” said the wind.

“Each time before, you have prevented me and sought to devour me. I have always escaped.”

“Yes.” There was a shifting in the darkness, a hint of form, black on black.

“Now my people are in danger. I must succeed.” She stepped forward, her back proud and straight.

“You may pass without harm.”

She hesitated. “Why?”

The shadows looked on her without a face. “We consumed a saint, once. We understand virtue, even if we do not practice it.”