To a surprise

To a surprise
But the car’s gentle rocking, the steady rhythm of the engine, the sun on my face—it all conspired against me.

I slipped under. In the dream I was running.

Not as a human. As a wolf.  Golden fur gleaming, paws barely touching the ground.  
Beside me—Damien, black as midnight, silver eyes flashing with joy.  We tore through a field of wildflowers—green so vivid it hurt to look at, poppies red as fresh blood, daisies white as moonlight, lavender stretching in purple waves.  
The air smelled like honey and earth and him. We leaped streams that sparkled like liquid glass.  
We chased each other in dizzy circles, nipping tails, rolling through grass until petals stuck to our fur.  
I laughed—wolf laughter, deep and rumbling—and he answered with a playful growl that vibrated through my bones.

We ran until the field ended at the edge of a cliff.  
Below—ocean, endless, blue-green and glittering.  
He stopped. Look at me.  In wolf form his eyes still held that same quiet devotion—the look that said you are safe, you are mine, you are free.

I stepped closer.  Nuzzled his neck.  Felt his heartbeat under thick black fur—steady, strong, home.

He licked my muzzle once—gentle, reverent—then threw his head back and howled.  I joined him.  Our voices braided together—gold and black, light and shadow—rising over the cliff, over the sea, over the whole damn world.

The sound woke me. “We are here, mademoiselle.”

Marcel’s voice was gentle. The car had stopped.  
I blinked, disoriented, cheeks warm from the dream and the sun.  
The yellow Citroën idled at the bottom of the private drive that led up to the condo.  
The cliff path stretched ahead—white stone steps winding through bougainvillea and sea grape.

I rubbed my eyes. “I… fell asleep.”

He chuckled. “You did. Snored like a kitten.”

I laughed—embarrassed, light.  “Thank you, Marcel. For the ride. And the company.”

He waved a hand. “Anytime. You come back to the market, you say hello, yes?”

“I will,” I promised.

I gathered my bags—thread, leather, hardware, hope—and climbed out.  
Marcel gave a cheerful toot of the horn as he pulled away, yellow car disappearing around the bend like a friendly bumblebee.

I stood there for a moment—bags heavy, heart light—and looked up the path toward the condo.

Home.

Not the mansion. Not the cage.  This place.  
This life.  This man who was probably inside right now, waiting, wondering where I’d wandered off to.

I smiled—wide, real, fearless—and started up the steps.

The wind caught my hair.  The sea sang below.  
And somewhere deep inside my chest, the golden wolf howled softly—content, curious, ready.

I was home but something looked wrong. They were cars everywhere! What is happening?

And men in black, the air wasnt the kind i came with.
Did Shallow wake up? IS he here for me? To kill me definitely.
What happened to Damien?
Oh Mon Dieu