He stared into the cold, amber orbs. So like his own eyes, but different somehow. The water rippled and so did the image.

Something tugged deep within him, making him glance up. It was the day of the first blue moon this century and the wolf grew restless. The boy knew better, knew of all the horrors the blue moon would unleash. The wolf did not, and if he had, he would not care.

As twilight reached the mountains above, he looked back to the surface. A proud, chestnut coloured wolf stood there, resting upside down in the water. It stared back at him with the same gold eyes that he had since birth.

The boy turned, sickened with the image. He looked back barley a moment later, as did the wolf. Just a glance over the shoulder and a swipe of that great tail were enough to infuriate the boy.

Picking up a stone, he threw it down upon the wolf, then ran before it regrouped.

That night angry screeches were heard throughout the village across the forest. Every sane man or woman stayed inside, knowing in just a few weeks it would be back.

The morning that followed found the boy lying in a bed in a white room. The walls around him were lined with beds too, but only his was occupied. Alone, the boy rolled onto his side and let out one muffled sob before falling into a fitful sleep.

He dreamed of the wolf running far away, and of the freedom that would bring him.