Ellie
It was just a dream. The same dream I've always had, if you could call it that. I never see anything, no faces, no memories, no places I wish to go, just voices. One voice, to be specific. And all it says is my name. I've never heard so much emotion put into the name I was given. There was pain, longing, grief, and something else that sent shivers down my spine. It's like someone's calling me but I don't know who. I can hear the yearning in the voice as if it's begging me to remember. But I don't.
I don't know why I hear this voice every night, I don't know why it's so alluring, I don't know why I can't help but feel that I know that voice. Yet, each time I search the deep crevices of my memory, I come up blank. It feels too real to be my imagination. Too mysterious to ignore. Too familiar to deny.
My thoughts are interrupted by a weight dipping my bed. I could feel him looking at me as I pretend to sleep. But once I feel his tongue on my face, I can't hold in my giggle. His cinnamon eyes look into my own as if he's telling me that I can't fool him. I smile at my companion lovingly.
"Hello, sweet boy." He starts jumping on the bed, urging me to get up, "Okay, okay, I'm up." Throwing the covers off me, I can feel his snout pressing into my back. He does this every morning like I need help to move. An adorable gesture I've grown used to over the years.
My companion, Koga, hasn't left my side since I found him as a pup. His mother had been killed by poachers and I found him shaking in a nearby shrub. I buried her, said a prayer to the moon and brought him home. He attached to me instantly and I fell in love. My sweet boy has become my best friend and as he grew in size, so did his instinct to protect. He stands guard outside the bathroom, and I have even caught him growling at innocent rabbits passing our cabin. I can't help but find his protective nature adorable.
We walked together to the porch. I sit with my cup of coffee while he runs off to the tree line to do his business. The morning sun peaks over the tree line, gracing me with its warm embrace. I breathe in the scent of pine and dew and shiver at the pleasure it gives me. This is home, our sanctuary. Probably the safest place I have ever known.
I'm all Koga has known since his mother died, but she died protecting him. Mine couldn't even look me in the eye most of the time. We all knew father had a soft spot for me that made his knuckles itch. Mother, being the obedient wife he trained her to, wouldn't do anything to upset him. I tried not to be bitter towards her. I knew he would hurt her too. But the child in me couldn't help but be angry that she wouldn't even comfort me afterwards.
I still cover the evidence he etched into my skin over the years, not because I'm ashamed. Never will I be. But because I refuse to let him see me broken. Instead of cowering under his shadow, I took his beatings, stood tall on shaky legs, looked him in the eyes and told him three words that made the hairs on his neck stand. In just three simple words, I could feel my father's proclaimed dominance cracking under my own.
"It doesn't hurt."
One time, I was punished for having the audacity to laugh at the man. He didn't stop until he heard my bones cracking so in return, I didn't stop laughing, even though it felt like my ribs were on fire.
I hit the brakes on my trip down memory lane and focus on where I am now. I am not in my father's clutches. I am not nursing my own wounds in the confinements of a dark closet or a cold basement. I am safe. I am healed. More than that, I am free.
I see Koga trotting back towards me, he has an extra pep in his step if you will. Once he reaches me, he nudges my legs with his snout. I giggle, thinking he's playing, but he keeps doing it. I stand and he moves behind me, pushing me towards the stairs. He wants me to go somewhere.
"What are you doing, sweet boy?" He stops nudging me and runs around me down the porch steps. He's acting – strange. He's pacing fast, looking between the trees and me, even hopping a little to emphasize his point. He has free reign here. He can go as he pleases, and he knows this. But I'm guessing he wants me to go with him. He wants to go on a run. I grin as I run inside to change.
After a few minutes, I walk back outside dressed in black spandex shorts, a green tunic, and my running shoes. Koga barks his approval.
Tying up the laces on my sneakers and stretching my muscles, I'm ready. I look out over the land, the trees, the critters scampering about; it all calls to me. Koga stands at the ready, he hears it too.
Here ... we ... go.
I push off the porch and let myself go. Koga running alongside me as we head towards the forest. I can't tell if I'm catching up with him or he's slowing down to match my human speed. Either way it's an exhilarating feeling – running with a wolf. I've always felt caged, in a way. Like something inside me is just itching to be released. I feel it now as the earth crunches under my feet and the trees become a blur.
I feel wild, free. But I can't help but think that there is so much more even if I can't see it or understand it. I listen to the land, it seems quiet, but I hear everything over my feet. I can hear the hills singing and the trees whispering. I can hear the dew dropping off petals and the streams dancing over rocks. I can hear the hearts of the creatures here beating as one. The rhythm of my own is in tune with their symphony, the sense of belonging is strong and for a precious moment, I forget that I'm human. Trapped in the confines of my own skin.
Sometimes when I close my eyes, and I feel the breeze whipping through my dark locks as I keep pushing and pushing until my legs can't take the fire anymore, I pretend that I broke through the chains I wear and nothing remains other than pure, primal, animalistic urges. I pretend the dirt under my shoes is my home and the moon above is my everlasting companion. I hear the howls of wolves every night, calling to their brothers and sisters or to the moon goddess, I don't know, and I can't help the envy I feel towards the majestic creatures. I can't help the pull I feel towards the call. Sometimes, I like to pretend that I am one of them. When Koga howls at night, I join him. Together we are a pack.
I stop in my tracks when the most exquisite aroma hits me like a truck. Koga circles me, wondering what's going on. I look all around, and I can't find the source of this divine scent. I take a deep breath, greedily capturing it in my lungs, the scent of musk, sandalwood and leather mixed with something sweet like vanilla or honey. It made my mouth water; my head is spinning. The scent is fading, almost gone, but it was there. I never smelled something so ... so ... I couldn't even find a proper word for it; I was blind in ecstasy while I took another deep inhale.
All I could think of was that scent and I couldn't shake my curiosity. I need to know where it came from. I try to follow the trail with Koga on my heels. It's fading fast, I run after it. I don't know what it is, I don't know what I'll find. I'm not of reason right now and I can't find it in me to care. The scent seems … no … it feels familiar. It's like seeing an old friend for the first time. Only I don't remember this friend. I push my legs harder, chasing the trail. I'm getting closer. I can taste it. Just a little more …
Koga rounds in front of me forcing me to skid to a stop. I fall to my knees, sucking in air like I've been drowning. Koga moves out of the way to show me why he did it. The ground drops just fifteen feet ahead of me. I shudder. I was so blinded by the strange aroma that I nearly ran myself off a cliff. He saved me. But with the loss of the scent comes a tight grip on my heart that I can't explain. Koga whimpers as I do, like he can feel what I am. This sadness is overwhelming and inhuman. I know this sadness; I've felt it before when I brought a puppy home that I found in an alley and my father forced me to watch as he released the poor thing into traffic. It's grief. But for what? What did I lose?
A tear slips from my eye and Koga rubs his head against my body, offering comfort and I cry harder from the gesture. My sweet boy. My dearest friend. His presence warms my heart, filling my broken heart with warmth and love. He stays in my arms, never moving. I pull back to look into his cinnamon eyes and let him know that I am okay.
"Let's go home."
Before we make our way back, I take one last look at the land. Wondering where that scent came from and hope that maybe someday, I'll have an answer.