She Wolf
She Wolf fell into the dream with the practiced ease of a diver entering the water. In her nightly journeys, she was the master of her mind's landscapes, bending reality with a flick of her consciousness. Tonight, however, the familiar mental terrain of her dreams gave way to something new: a forest of silver birch trees under a sky illuminated by a full, ethereal moon. The air hummed with a primal, electric energy that made her feel more awake than she ever did in her waking life.
She moved through the trees, the crunch of fallen leaves a whisper beneath her feet. The scent of pine and damp earth filled her senses, and a shiver of anticipation raced down her spine. Then she saw it. Lying on a bed of moss, bathed in moonlight, was a white wolf. It was not a wolf of flesh and blood, but of pure, concentrated moonlight. As it raised its head, its eyes met hers, and she felt a jolt of recognition so profound it resonated in her very soul. The wolf's eyes were not an animal's but two luminous, perfectly smooth moonstones that swirled with opalescent light.
The wolf rose and approached her, its movements fluid and silent. It circled her once, its gaze never leaving hers, before nudging her wrist with its snout. She Wolf watched, mesmerized, as the moonstone eyes seemed to soften, their light focusing on her skin. The sensation was not cold, but a rush of cool, serene energy that settled deep within her bones. The wolf then disappeared, dissolving into a shimmer of silvery light, leaving her with a sense of peace and a newfound, intense clarity.
Waking with a gasp, She Wolf sat upright, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The cool morning air felt strange against her skin, but it was the weight on her wrist that brought her back to the world. A silver chain, unfamiliar yet fitting, was clasped around her wrist. In the center, a single moonstone pulsed with a soft, milky light. It was the same stone she had seen in the wolf's eyes. The memory of the dream felt more real than the blankets tangled around her legs.
She Wolf touched the stone, and an instinctual understanding flooded her mind. This was no ordinary piece of jewelry. A deep sense of wildness, of belonging to the forest from her dream, began to stir within her. The world seemed sharper, scents more distinct, and the sound of a distant bird clearer than ever before. Her heart raced with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.
Driven by a powerful urge, she walked to the woods behind her house. The air was crisp, the light muted by the canopy of trees. With trembling hands, she clutched the moonstone, concentrating on the memory of the white wolf. The cool stone warmed against her skin, and she felt a strange, shifting sensation deep within her. A searing heat bloomed in her chest, and her bones began to ache, not with pain, but with the pressure of change.
Her world spun into a blur of tearing fabric and shifting perspective. The ground rushed towards her, and her hands and feet elongated, sprouting sharp claws and pads. A muzzle replaced her face, and her senses exploded with the unfiltered information of the forest. The rustle of a mouse in the undergrowth, the scent of a deer a mile away, the subtle change in the wind—all were instantly comprehensible. The pain receded, replaced by a surge of incredible power and freedom.
She Wolf's human mind struggled to make sense of the new sensations, but her instincts took over. A low, joyous growl rumbled in her chest. She leaped over a fallen log, her new body effortlessly agile, and raced deeper into the woods. She felt the ancient, wild part of her soul finally awaken. She was the wolf from her dream, the moonstone a shimmering link between her two selves. Her life would never be the same, and as she ran beneath the dappled sunlight, she knew her true story had only just begun.