Wolf Pack

Chapter 3

I ran through the woods on all fours, panting, the forest bluuring by me as I raced toward nothing. The wind felt powerful and liberating against my fur. I was dimly aware of two more figures racing beside me, but I barely registered them. The moon's light shone down through the treetops, covering the forest in a pale, silvery glow. I came to a stop by a narrow river and drank using my wolf-like tongue.

When I was satisfied, I lifted my head. A pair of piercingly blue eyes stared at me. I stared right back into them, then at the beautiful black hair surrounding them. There was something different about this wolf's eyes. They seemed oddly... human. I realized why, and turned my head back to them for another look, but they were gone, replaced by blackness. I looked around; everything was black.

My eyes snapped open. I was breathing heavily. That dream had been so vivid...

A thought tugged at the back of my mind, but when I reached for it, it disappeared. There was something I had realized in that dream, I just couldn't remember what. Oh well.

"Hyacinth! Breakfast!" my mother called through the house. I groaned and looked at my bedside clock: 8:00 AM. Too early to be waking up on a Saturday.

I rolled out of my blue comforter, walked to the kitchen, and sat down at the worn-down, yet beautiful, wooden table. This table had gone through many different owners, many different adventures. My great-great grandmother bought this table, my mother once told me, from her favorite antiques store down in New Orleans, Louisiana. She passed it down to a daughter, who gave it to her son, who left it to his daughter, who handed it over to my mother. It went through the turning of the century, the Great World Wars, the Great Depression, the Harlem Renaissance, the Vietnam and Korean Wars, and the first African-American to become president. Maybe even more before all that; who knew how old this table really is. It's my favorite thing in the house. I love the idea that behind the scruffy, beat-up exterior, an entire century of history, maybe more, lies just underneath its furnished surface. I think of all this as I chew my bacon-and-eggs biscuit.

I realize I am staring hard at a knot in the wood when my mother ruffles my hair a bit. "Any weird dreams last night? I could hear creaking and rustling coming from your room."

"Uh, no!" I said too loudly. I chuckled nervously. "I was up late doing homework; you probably heard me moving things around on my desk."

My mom looked at me like I had two heads. "Ok," she said, "whatever."

I sighed inwardly, thinking about last night's dream. I had felt so real, so alive, so complete, running through those woods. It was weird, but I wanted to... do it again. That idea scared me more than anything else.

Author's Note:

Hey guys so sorry for the short chapter the next one will be longer I promise! Thanks for sticking with me this long also! Love you!