Маленький волк

Colors, fragments flash through my mind, a kaleidoscope of pictures, like watching a movie reel spinning on overdrive. I know I am dreaming, stuck in the semi-conscious state, aware but unable to wake.

Letting my mind drift, I attempt to slow down what I see, to focus on one picture rather than all. I am not familiar with the images and scenes, but there is one common element in everything I am witnessing: Griffin. My Wolf. And with each slide comes foreign emotions, like I am in his head.

Pushing all my energy to try and stop on one, I finally snag a fragmented image of a child, a boy, with innocent blue eyes, and I am pulled in.

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She is in so much pain. I want to help her. I do not like seeing people cry, most of all girls. But he will not let me. He never lets me. He tells me I can only watch. Why won’t he let me help her? Ma says I am a good little helper.