Syllea sits by a pond; her feet are in the cool water, her pants rolled up to the middle of her calves. Her brown hair flows down her back, and her bright green eyes are full of the peace she feels. She knew she was dreaming, but it was peaceful. The peaceful dreams were new.
She looks to the trees that surround the pond and smiles as her wolf appears.
She doesn’t call out; she waits for him to come to her. He slowly and gracefully moves to Syl’s side, resting his head on her lap. The girl’s hand pets his smooth, shiny white coat before turning back to look at the shimmering pond water.
Her wolf’s head leaves from her lap, and she looks over to where he stood. Syllea gasps. In front of her stood a tall young man. His eyes were the shining icy blue of her wolf’s eyes; he had messy short brown hair and a bit of stubble on his pointed chin and upper lip. He had an angular face shape that made all of his features come together perfectly.
The man gave Syl a shy smile, running his right hand through his hair. As he did, Syl noticed the muscles on his body…the muscles of a wolf. “You are my wolf…” she breathed in shock. She thought that if she could faint in her dream, she probably would.
The man shrugged and sat by the pond, staying a few feet from the girl. “I am.” He spoke softly, his voice a deep rich sound.
“Wow,” Syllea breathed again, unable to get more than a few words out at once.
The man chuckled and looked away. “Am I scaring you?” he asked, his eyes looking at her through his shaggy hair that fell in front of his face.
Syl had to pause and think. Finally, she shook her head, “No, no, you’re not scaring me.”
The man nodded, his broad shoulders relaxing as she answered. “That’s good then.” He looked away, staring at the pond.
“Are you going to explain anything to me?” Syllea asked once she finally got her nerves about her.
He continued looking at the water but tilted his head towards her slightly, “What do you wish to know?”
“Your name would be a good start.”
“Sigurd,” he says softly.
She repeats the name softly, letting the name roll off her tongue. “So, are you a spirit, like my great-grandfather?”
Sigurd hesitates, then nods, “Aye, I am a spirit.”
Syl smiles, “I knew I was right.” She chuckles to herself.
Sigurd looks at her and gives her a crooked smile, “You’re a smart lass. I knew you would get it eventually.”
Syllea laughs, shaking her head. “How old are you, Sir Sigurd?”
“No need for the ‘sirs’ and ‘misters.’ As for my age, well, that’s a tough one. When I…” he pauses, shifting uncomfortably.
“Died?” Syl finishes for him.
Sigurd nods, “Aye, that. I was nineteen winters. I am older than your parents now, I’m afraid.”
Syl chuckles, “You must see a lot of strange things in your long life?”
“Aye, I have and do.”
Syllea smiles and looks over to him, “Wha-“
Sigurd cuts her off, “I think it is time you wake up Syllea.”
“But…will you let me see you when I am not asleep?” the teen girl asks in a rush.
Sigurd pauses and nods, “Aye, maybe eventually. Now leave your questions for later.”
Before her eyes, Sigurd transformed back into her wolf and ran into the trees: the way he had come.
Syllea wakes with a gasp, covered in sweat, but a large smile is on her lips. Finally, she had learned the truth. Her wolf was a spirit.
“Sigurd,” she whispers to herself with a small smile.
