The words his mother spoke all those years ago lingered in his mind. He remained seated beside her on the porch, watching the wolves dart between towering pine trees. The afternoon breeze stirred the leaves overhead, carrying with it the sweet scents of the forest, fresh earth and woodsmoke drifting from the nearby homes.
Somewhere in the clearing, his father laughed at something one of the younger wolves had said, and the sound blended with the chatter of the pack going about another peaceful day. It all felt so warm and so safe. His fourteen-year-old heart swelled with excitement as he imagined the person his mother had described. He wondered what she would look like, whether she'd enjoy the forest as much as he did, whether she'd laugh often, and if she'd smile when she looked at him the way his mother smiled at his father.
