I dream of wolves every night. There are times when I simply watch them race through cold, shrouded forests. When I stretch out a trembling hand and silently beg one of them to place their muzzle against my fingers so that I may feel true strength with my own skin. When my heart pounds louder than a summer storm as they sprint together in one pack, their breaths stirring together in savage harmony. When I long to run alongside them, my soul more free than I could ever possibly imagine. And then there are times where I am one of them. I can taste the crisp moonlight on my tongue as my paws kick up half-frozen mud; I can smell the fervor of t