Her memory glided into visions of wolves.  She massaged her temples as she concentrated, trying to shut these horrid memories of blood and pain out of her mind.  

"Ah, what do I do?"

"Arwen."

She whirled around to see a boy with soft brown hair.  His eyes were pleading, his hands reaching out to her.  

"Who are you?" she narrowed her eyes through the misty haze.

"Arwen," he called out to her again.  He held his hand out welcomingly.

She hesitated.  Who was this boy?  

Just before she could enclose her hand into his, her dream world evaporated.  

She stared at the ceiling as she opened her eyes.  She rubbed them sleepily as she looked at the clock.  2 AM, it read.  She sighed and nuzzled her head deeper into the pillow, falling back into her world of imagination.