new way
The wolf stands atop the broken Wall, silhouette dark against the moon despite white fur. Mist gathers around its feet, trickling down to pool over the ashes of Kells. It howls, and the people can't help but let their own tears flow along with it.
Its sheer size would've been enough to discourage those who wished to drive it off, but in truth, it simply didn't occur to anyone. It came when they were still safe within the Tower, and by the time they rebuild, it's so integrated into their lives it was unthinkable.
Every night, they see it. Every night, just after the sunset, comes a single howl that once would have inspired fear. But though they know not exactly who or what it's for, they know in their hearts that the sound is an unwavering, horrific mourning, just like their own.
It never comes inside the wreckage, but it doesn't have to. The people need to venture into the forest to survive, and they pass the wolf when the few strong ones return from forraging and attempts to hunt.
It does not stop them. In fact, sometimes it follows, though no-one can tell exactly where it is-sometimes they catch glimpses of white through the trees and think it's the wolf, only to discover nothing when they cautiously step through the branches to see.
When black wolves tear one of the older survivors apart one evening, it merely watches, but after it leads the group back to Kells. From the wall it watches the burial with solemn eyes, and it howls early that night-but it leaves early as well.
Some say it's an angel. Some say it's a demon. Some say it's a faerie. Others ask, with varying degrees of fear and respect, if there's a difference.
(From the shadow of their fear and losses, some secretly, quietly, begin to worship it.)