mell of burning wood,

me pulsed as if it were alive, scorched and cracked. The sky above was black, with streaks of blood-red cutti

d to the soil. The pack grounds were eerily quiet, except for the soft crackle

, I wasn

heir eyes glowed silver, fixed on me, their fur glistening with dew-or wa

epped

t rippled like starlight. Her eyes were just like mine: burnished gold, rimmed

thunder, and flames erupted from the ground, forming a circle around us. A gust of wind

eam ch

n every direction. Blood soaked the ground. I searched for familiar faces, calling

was unreadable. Was it grief, regret, or indifference? His eyes met mine, and something passed be

covered the walls, showing wolves kneeling before a burning moon, with a woman at the center. Her hair was aflame, her eye

on the wall. My hair was no longer chestnut brown-it had streaks of silver. My

You are the moon.

nd feminine yet filled with power. It

" I wh

s no reply.

mbled like as

d in sweat, the sheets twist

sat up and tried to catch my breath. The room was quiet, too quiet. I could still feel the heat o

n too vivi

on my shoul

cally. It lit

e side. The mark-once faint and silvery-now glowed

n shot through me

happeni

ng heavily. Was the dream a

ike a message. The images haunted me: the silver-gold wolf, the blood-

y questions that grew

lear-this wasn'

ent was waking

wasn't

-

fter the dream. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw fire and blo

ded a

o? Zara? No. The Elders? They'd probably dismiss

his meant. I couldn't keep pre

omething

d it had al