Samara
Three months later
Ayla is running through the most beautiful field I’ve ever seen.
‘Ayla, where are we? How did we shift?’ I ask her.
She’s quiet a moment. ‘I think we’re dreaming. This is ... real, but also ... not real.’
‘What does that mean?’ I ask her.
The air here feels so clean and crisp, the flowers are a perfect balance of scent without being cloying. The sun is shining on our back, and it feels warm but not too hot.
Ayla begins to slow, going from run, to jog, to a walk. I follow her line of sight and see another wolf up ahead of us. She lifts her nose in the air and we both immediately recognize the scent.
GILLIAN!
Ayla races to her sister, sliding her body against Gillian’s as the two wolves whine and whimper at seeing each other again.
‘Where are we, Gillian?’
