What Lies Beneath the Pines

I have the same dream as I had the few nights before. The only difference is, I am running with the wolves this time. Free and wild with a growing frenzy about to explode in my chest. My pack and I stop by the creek. I suck back the fresh liquid as it cools and soothes my dry aching throat. The same glaring brown wolf stops me, pacing around the pool. He seems to snicker when the tall white female wolf—the wolf I felt so safe with in my previous dream—sneezes and staggers back with her tail between her legs,
whimpering softly. An inferno begins to chase the cool water out of my veins, leaving burnt roads in its wake. I lunge for the green-eyed monster, tumbling around in the dirt. He clamps his jaw onto my palm, a yelp escaping my volatile lungs. The white wolf, with her almond eyes barks furiously. We stop immediately. I seem to bow my head above
the water. I expect my own reflection to look up at me: brown curly hair, sage green eyes, and dark tan skin, however, I see no such thing. I seem to be staring at a boy, more like a young man. His face chiseled with a square jaw, waves of hair encompass his crown at ear length, which is darker than onyx, and his eyes are a piercing deep blue. His tanned skin, similar to mine, only with a hint of olive. His appearance is strange.
These features don’t seem to match, and yet in unison, they unearth a melodious song from the sparrows over head. A growl counters in the sandy wolf beside me—I mean the boy—as the wolf lunges for his throat.