She glanced up. No moon. No stars.
Amber’s totem animals tended toward birds: owls, sparrows, ravens, hawks, reflecting her light spirit and searching nature. Although she’d been contacted by a bear spirit once that was almost a year ago and she was still waiting for the confirming visits. New guides could declare themselves at any time and it wasn’t as if she didn’t need some advice.
Amber shrugged. Okay. She would be polite and welcoming even if the spirit was being theatrical. Who was she to judge the spirit of the wolf? Maybe the wolf was here to help her against the spider.
She wasn’t certain about the mythology. Was there a First People legend she could look up?
But if this was a first contact, then the current behavior of the wolves was unusual. Wolves. Yes. There were several coming over the hill now. They stalked toward her, each movement telegraphing suspicion, confusion … anger.
Now that was different from the guides she’d previously attracted. Amber’s off beat sense of humor usually called guides who demonstrated a similar attitude. Maybe she was going to be told to take things in her life a little more seriously. That wouldn’t be a surprise. Maybe she was due for a spirit guide type kick in the butt. She deserved it after this morning’s pitiful showing. Getting caught? Shameful.
One of the lead wolves raised his head and gave a hunting cry. At the command the pack charged toward her, the dust their paws raised streaming behind them in the heavy air. After a few hundred yards the charge faltered. The wolves slowed and exchanged almost human glances.
Amber stood, waiting.
Behind them came a snarl and they resumed running directly at Amber. Howls echoed to the horizon and back.
Amber settled her feet on the hot stones, ignoring the burning pain.
It’s only a dream. Pain is transient.
Wait.
The wolves ran hard toward her until a few feet away, then the tide of fur parted and they rushed past her to either side. Wheeling about they stalked toward her … prowling … circling … constantly moving. Jostling for position. They yipped, snarled, and growled, to each other and at her.
Run … run … run … came a whisper in her mind.
One wolf took up position behind her, brushing against her skin. Then he leaned his weir body against her, trying to force her down or into motion.
She dug her toes into the stone, refusing to move.
The other wolves started running back and forth across the dream. Away, then back to where she stood. With each mock charge her heart beat faster. The skin on the back of her neck crawled and her instinct demanded she run. Hide. Amber breathed deep through her nose, forcing herself to stay still, calm. One wolf leapt, flying past her in a blur of fur and teeth. She moved her head just enough to dodge the snapping muzzle only inches from her face.
Run … run … run …
From her childhood came the warning in her father’s voice. Never run from a dog. If you run, he will chase. They will always chase. Once you run, you’re prey. Don’t run.
Run … run …
Amber studied the wolves as they paced around her feet. She couldn’t remember offering offense to the world of the spirit guides. Done nothing recently that would inspire an attack. Unless by touching the web she’d become contaminated. Rejected by the spirit world as well as the house?
“Who are you?” she demanded.
The words sank, dull and empty into the dream.
The wolves did not respond.
Perhaps this is an ordinary nightmare, thought Amber, examining the dreamscape again.
No. That didn’t seem likely. Her imagination didn’t work that way. This was no ordinary dream. This was intense. Too much detail. Too much information.
One heavy male took up position directly before her, a hundred yards away, looked into her eyes and pawed the earth. Deep in his chest she could hear him grumbling. Growling threats.
Claws digging into the hard soil he ran toward her. Each movement graceful,