But outside, wind hooted, lightning flared, thunder bawled, rain crashed on roof and walls and roared down to swirl among the courtyard cobblestones.

Outside, wind hooted past the cave entrance.

The wind hooted.

A cold polar wind hooted in the eroded bluffs, chilling my face and hands.

He saw empty rides standing against the sky like scaffolds; the wind drummed and hooted in the weird angles of their struts.

Outside the snug little cottage the wind hooted in derision.

The wind hooted and roared like the air choir of the world, gibbons had nothing on the winter forest as far as vocalizations were concerned.

The wind hooted and moaned.

The sand scratched at the tent entrance like tiny hands, and the wind hooted against the flap.

The wind hooted and wailed outside, and for an instant Swan thought she did hear a dark voice in it.