“The wind was a howling wolf.” Normally I would say that such a phrase was hyperbole at best. Yes, the wind often takes on that eerie wailing sound as it forces its way through the branches and rooftops, but “a wolf”? No, a sound carries no real threat. Much less the possibility of it being a predator set upon devouring the unwary.
Until tonight, however. The shutters have broken free and are slamming open and closed with each gust. Roof tiles have taken flight from the old barn, and the livestock are shrieking in terror. This is no ordinary wind. It is a hunter. It is seeking to devour and destroy. By all that is holy, protect us from this wolf-wind.
Mad About Metaphor: The wind was a howling wolf.