1 -Prologue-

I was racing through the skies, the wind rushing past me, my wings skimming the air, catching the breeze and carrying me off wherever I please. I slowed down when I saw a copse of trees up ahead. I came to a stop, my viciously sharp claws clutching a low-hanging branch. As I scanned my surroundings, I looked beyond the trees, and I saw a pair of golden eyes glowing within the dark night.

Wolf eyes.

I took off to the skies, attempting to dodge the trees in my path, but one branch snapped on my wing, injuring me, slowing me, making me unsteady. From the noise behind and below me, I could gather there was more than one wolf chasing me. They would catch up. They would eat me. They would devour me. I gave one last heave then fell to the ground, fluttering down like a dead leaf.

Gasping, I snapped my eyes open. Sitting up, I took a breath. My dream shifted my room in and out of focus as my eyes adjusted.

When I was little, my father always told me that dreams were just my imagination, that people couldn't be birds, and people were certainly never chased around by wolves.

But when I argued that it happens in books and movies, he wouldn't let me watch TV for a week, saying my brain couldn't handle it. I almost believed him, but there was always something about these dreams that no matter how hard I convinced myself that I was making it all up, I still felt off. Now I'm fifteen years old, and I was still having the same nightmare.

Sitting up in my bed, I almost laughed at myself. Almost.

I convinced my waking mind it was all made up, but my nightmares didn't seem to get the memo. I pushed my covers off. The chill night air sailing through my thin camisole and sweatpants. Confused, I looked around my room. I usually slept with my curtains open letting in the moonlight. My father said the window had to stay closed, but I saw the bottom cracked open. I stepped as silently as a cat on my floorboards, praying they wouldn't squeak and wake my father.

Fate was apparently on my side, for the floorboards stayed quiet. The moon's light shone through my whole room, my shadow a silhouette, which was following close behind me. I placed my hands on the cold windowsill. I scanned the treeline in my backyard. I took a deep breath, taking in the night air. My thoughts cleared, and I continued looking for something that might've opened my window, but I realized I was looking for something that didn't exist. I sighed, shut my window, turning to go back to sleep. But as my eyes moved, a shadow flitted across the moon, almost like a flicker, and then it was gone.

I knew it had to be a bird, maybe a fast one. Most birds can't fly that fast, my thoughts countered, making me nervous. I gave myself a hard shake. No, I couldn't think this. I was tired, and I probably imagined it. I crawled back under my covers and finally fell back asleep.

My dreams were now full of shadows, full moons, and birds I thought were myself, with different predators chasing me every time.