The Lady who dreams of Death

And then, there’s him. The man in my dreams. He is the black wolf, hidden in darkness, revealed only in the light of the moon. And I, I am nothing but a white rabbit, small, fragile, and too easily hunted. My fur is my curse, my vulnerability, and it will be my end.

He calls out to me in those dreams. Alora, he calls, his voice husky and distant, echoing in my mind long after I wake. My name, spoken like a secret, like a promise, like a threat. I can’t escape it. I can’t escape him. He is both my doom and my destiny, and I don’t know whether to run from him or towards him.