There Is No Title

I have a recurring dream.

Actually, I have several recurring dreams, my psyche's own little video library, but I'll spare you most of them for the moment.

This one particular dream, I've had quite often, of late.

The colors are dark - greys, blues, purples, colors of night. I'm in a forest. There are hunters. They are not after me. I am gliding from shadow to shadow, sliding across frozen puddles of moonlight, seeking the hunters' prey.

He's there in the wood. I can hear him, soft though he treads; his heartbeat thunders in my mind.

I find him in a tiny clearing, illuminated. He is waiting for me, silver in the night. Just as I reach him, the hunters break through. He snarls. I place myself between him and the people who would kill him, though I am armed only with wit and will.

No words are spoken, but our intents are clear - the wolf will be the wolf, himself always, never tame, never docile, he will tolerate his chosen few but never bend himself to another's will. The hunters will destroy him if they can...all they see is his danger. And me? I will split wide the earth, call down the gale, loose the conflagration, summon the rushing waters, fight tooth and toenail to protect him. Whatever the cost, I will not let them destroy this wild, beautiful thing. In my dream, I am more than equal to these fluttering, ineffectual fools. All they have are weapons of metal and wood - I have Nature's fury with which to do battle.

Within the dream, I fear only that I will be too late. Once I've found him, that fear passes - I am absolutely confident that I will prevail. I will not make the first move, but I will not hesitate to defend him against all comers, and they will fail.

Sometimes the dream ends there - hunters circling, wolf growling, teeth bared, my hands raised, face set in stony determination.

Sometimes it ends in the midst of the melee, slain and wounded hunters scattered around us, more coming at us, wolf exuding primal rage, myself drawing on my cold anger to fuel the arts with which I do battle.

Sometimes it ends with the wolf and I walking through the silent forest, untouched, moonlight marking our path.

What have you been dreaming of?