short story when I cannot sleep

The hybrid

"You're not my real parents, are you?" Arynn's voice trembled as he stared into the fire, the flickering shadows playing across his face.

The silence was thick, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the small wooden hut. His adoptive mother, Elara, paused in her mending, her eyes never leaving the dancing flames.

"Why do you say that, Arynn?" she asked finally, her voice gentle but firm.

Arynn turned to her, the firelight glinting off his tear-filled eyes. "Everyone says I don't look like you. They say I'm too fast, too strong. And then there are the dreams..."

Elara sighed, setting aside her needle and thread. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. "Dreams can be tricky things, Arynn. They often tell us more about what we wish for than what is real."

The young boy looked unconvinced. "But what if they're not just dreams? What if there's something... something else?"

The white wolf, usually a silent sentinel at the door, shifted slightly, as if sensing the tension in the room.

Elara rose, walking over to Arynn and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes, the truth is not what we expect it to be. But you are loved, here, with us."

Her words hung in the air, unanswered questions swirling around them like the smoke from the fire.

---

The next day, as the village buzzed with the usual sounds of life, Arynn slipped away into the dense jungle that surrounded their home. The vibrant foliage whispered secrets as he passed, the branches brushing against his skin like the soft caress of a long-lost memory. The air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and blooming flowers, a stark contrast to the whispers of doubt that plagued his mind.

He moved with a grace that belied his age, his muscles tensing and releasing in a rhythm that seemed almost inhuman. His eyes, a piercing shade of blue that matched the sky above the treetops, searched the underbrush for any sign of his elusive guardian.

For as long as Arynn could remember, the white wolf had been there, a constant presence that kept him safe from the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the jungle. Yet, he had never seen the creature in the light of day. It was as if the wolf was a figment of his imagination, a ghost of the night that vanished with the dawn.

Today, Arynn was determined to find it. He had to know if it was real or just a figment of his longing for a past he could never remember. His heart pounded in his chest as he ventured deeper, the calls of exotic birds and the rustle of unseen creatures his only companions.

The sun painted the jungle floor with dappled light, casting intricate patterns on the leaves and vines that wove together like a living mosaic. The air grew heavier with the scent of something wild and untamed, something that called to Arynn in a way he couldn't explain. It was the scent of freedom, of a world beyond the confines of his village, beyond the whispers and the stares.

---

Suddenly, the jungle fell still. The cacophony of life retreated to the farthest corners, leaving only the sound of Arynn's breathing to fill the void. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for the source of the sudden silence.

And then he saw it. The white wolf, standing proudly in a clearing, its fur as brilliant as freshly fallen snow. It was larger than any creature he had ever seen, its eyes a piercing gold that seemed to see straight through him.

Arynn froze, his heart hammering in his chest. The wolf didn't move, just watched him with an unnerving intensity. For a moment, the world held its breath.