08-13-2021, 02:50 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-13-2021, 02:51 AM by Olive. Edited 1 time in total.)
dreams. vivid dreams. Visions of a land, from another time — another life. Faces of wolves, as familiar as they were foreign, beings of shadows that spoke in voices only faintly discernible. They came to her in her dreams often, these souls, and felt as real as if she could reach out and kiss them. The lamb often did try to touch them, and that was when their shrouded manifestations fell away, and Olive realized she was dreaming, and that they weren’t actually real, and she had gotten no closer to knowing who they were than any other night that came before.
It wasn’t always pleasant, but Olive did her best to interpret whatever message she was receiving and to act upon it, and not really complain about it. After all, who could complain when life was filled with such weather, full and heavy, at the end of a long summer? Lazy from a night of interrupted sleep, the woman spent the better part the day strolling along, categorizing the seasonal blooms. Only this time, she took nothing, and left only shallow paw prints in the dirt.
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