Novelas y relatos de Albedo

A small spark of hope flitted through me at the thought of my dream wolf being on his way. The wolf that crashed through the trees, however, was not the wolf from my previous dream, he was different in almost every way. He was smaller, built for speed over brute strength, and his fur was the colour of a sunrise. Beautiful reds, browns, oranges and streaks of golden yellow. He was unlike any wolf I had ever seen before. His fur was beautiful and silky, looking to be soft to the touch. His eyes were the amber of fresh honey and so intense I felt small under his gaze.