She stood opposite him, her form shrunken inside her cloak, the storm whipping her hair furiously across her face. He could see her lips form his name and he ached to hear it just once more, but the wind's vicious tendrils tore it from her lips and away through the trees.
He wanted desperately to chase the sound, to tear through the forest until he could snatch it back, to feel its caress one last time.
With a sad smile she was gone and he knew he would never hear her voice again.