The night passed in a blur of restless thoughts and fleeting dreams. She had been getting a different set of dreams lately.
The wolf cub was not a cub anymore. The silence and peace of the garden were now replaced with the sound of the crashing waves and the shimmering waters, with light trails marking their paths. She walked with the wolf, feeling the strands of his fur between her fingers.
At times, she would feel this heaviness in her heart, not the sinking dreadful feeling, but as if a weight was resting on her chest followed by a ticklish feeling. She loved it.
In those dreams, the wolf would be resting on her chest, his hair tingling on her neck. She'd allow him, as she caressed his hair, for it was only a dream.
In the nights she couldn't dream of him, she missed him.
