The Dream

When Saffron opened her eyes the following day, there was a scowl on her face. She closed her eyes again, wondering if she could go back to the dream she had just awoken from, and what a dream that was.

Saffy never remembered her dreams, but there was no way she was going to forget this one. It had played out like a blockbuster film starring Superheroes. Jack Goldsmith and a whopping giant-sized silver-coloured dog. Not so much Wolverine, more like the overall champion dog at Crufts dog show. It was a silly dream as Jack, and the dog seemed to merge into one. The animal was rolling around on his back on the lawn.

"Oh my God!" Saffron screwed her eyes up as she remembered, "No, oh no!" She could never un-see. Jack Goldsmith full frontal- again. Fuuck! She covered her eyes as if that would prevent her from remembering his incredible body. Powerful muscular arms, a full washboard of eight abs, and a pronounced vee shape leading to — Well, she wouldn't think about that spectacular part of his body. The only penis she had seen in real life was Jack's and never in a dream come to that. So, she wasn't sure if it was stupendous or not. But she would give him the benefit of the doubt. What in the world brought that dream on, and how would she face him without turning scarlet? She didn't know who was the most handsome, Jack or the dog. Saffy drew her brows together. The silver beast was huge, and it had four legs and a waggy tail. In reality, it was an enormous flipping wolf. So what did that make Jack? Saffy burst out laughing. In her dream, Jack was a Werewolf.

"Oh, that's hilarious!" She laughed as she got out of bed and opened the window to feed the birds gathered on the windowsill. A Starling landed right in front of her, the sun shining on his incredible coat of many colours. His beak was full of—Saffy inspected what the bird held in its beak, and she held out her hand full of seeds out to the bird.

"I'll swap you," she whispered, as a beak full of silver fur landed on the inside of the window.

The bird flew off with a beak full of seeds, and Saffy examined the silver fur. It was so soft, and as she looked out of the window. Saffy's mouth dropped open at what she was seeing. The garden was full of birds who were busy taking the silver fur which the wolf left when he was rolling on his back.

Saffy ran down the stairs and stormed into the garden. This was unbelievable; it was a dream, a bloody dream. There were no such things as Werewolves and fairies and flipping unicorns. Was she losing her mind? Huh, without a doubt.

Saffy marched back into the house and put the kettle on. Tea that solved everyone's problems, well, perhaps not everyone's, but it would help. She leaned against the worktop and folded her arms; there must be a reasonable explanation for all this. What colour was the dog next door? His name was Blackie. Maybe it was sheep's wool, and there were tons of sheep in the countryside. Though not within a couple of miles near her garden. Saffy made the tea, and as she sat at the table, she jumped up again. Perhaps her grandmother had left a note.

Saffy peeped around the door to the workshop, shocked to find several pages held down with the same one-ounce brass weight she'd used for her note. She gathered all the pages together and went back to the kitchen table and read the letter.

Dearest Saffy,

I'm so glad that you realised we

could communicate this way. You have a great deal to learn about your heritage and your gifts. I am sorry, and I am somewhat disappointed in your mother. Although I'm sure you love her, she has done you a great disservice by keeping me away from you. However, your mother was never of the otherworld.

"Otherworld? What the heck do you mean by that Gran, It's all fairy tales. There is no strange world full of mythical creatures." Saffy shook her head and finished her tea. "Otherworld my foot." She carried on reading.

What you saw in your dream is true. Jack and Silver are one. A Lycan, or a Werewolf to the uninitiated. Oh, don't worry, Jack is a delightful man, and he is the last werewolf in the country. He can tell you some tales, that is for sure, but there is one thing that Jack wants most of all. A mate. 

Saffy closed her eyes and covered her face. She was going crackers. This couldn't be true. What the hell, who'd broken into her house and left this note. When she looked again, Saffy's eyes widened, and her mouth fell open, and she pushed the chair away from the table, feeling scared. There, on top of the letter, was a bright pink Post-it note.

Saffy, no one has broken in. Don't be afraid, sweetheart, I'm your grandmother, and I'm here to look after you. If you relax and believe what I am telling you, you will see me and have a proper conversation. This is all your mother's fault.

Saffy snorted, believe what? That there are ghosts and werewolves? She flipped through the rest of the letter and burst out laughing.

"Oh, come on, you have got to be joking! You are not telling me that the old dear who runs the post office and village shop is a ghoul? That is ridiculous. Talk about half-baked!"

Saffy almost threw the china mug into the sink. She had been here just a few days, and so far, she had seen a naked man at the side of the road. She had watched a bit of the past from four hundred years ago in her front room, and had crazy dreams about werewolves and discovered his fur in the garden, and now she was corresponding with her ghostly grandmother. God, what a fuck up. It's not real. It can't be!

Saffy had sat in the kitchen for most of the morning, turning things over in her mind. She almost fell off the chair when the doorbell chimed. It wasn't difficult to guess who was there. She could see him through the tiny diamond glass window pane in the door. Werewolf my foot! She opened the door.

"Saffy, how are you today?" Jack almost smiled at her. She looked a bit fraught, Jack thought, just like her gran had said when she popped over this morning.

Saffy stood on the doorstep, hands on her hips, "I feel as if I should be saying 'What time is it Mr Wolf?' not that I think any of this is true," she said, thinking of the game she used to play at school with her friends.

Jack chuckled and looked at his watch. "It's a long time since I heard that." He put his hands on Saffy's shoulders, "Are you sure you are okay? It's a lot to take in, I know."

Saffy laughed, "You don't think I believe all that, do you?" She chuckled again and then stopped, shaking her head, "It's—quite frightening really to think that someone has been coming into my house to leave notes purporting to be from my grandmother and leaving sheep's wool on my lawn." Saffy burst into uncontrollable sobs.

Jack picked her up and took her to the sitting room. "It's okay Saffy, I'm here to help you," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. It's going to be okay." Jack sat with her on his lap until she stopped crying.

Saffy took a deep shuddering breath, and she wiped her eyes with her hands. "I'm sorry, I can't get my head around this."

"No one is breaking in, I promise you, they would have me to deal with if they were."

"The letter from Gran says you are a Lycan?" She shrugged, "I've read romance novels with Werewolves in them but never imagined that they were real. I mean, according to the stuff I've read, you are supposed to live in a pack and do training and patrol the forest."

"Yeah, don't read too much into that Saffy, I do have a pack, and I am the Alpha, but it's an odd sort of pack, mainly because I'm the last wolf in the country."

"Oh, you poor thing, you must be very lonely?"

"Sometimes, but I have lots of friends who keep me busy." Jack bit his lip. There was no way he could spring on her that she was a part wolf too. Just getting to grips with what she knew at the moment was enough for her without turning her completely crackers.

"You said you had a pack?" Just who was in it, the ghoul from the post office?

"Yeah, there's Clint Walker, he's er, got some funky teeth. I've known him for a very long time; I met him in Paris, they were having a bit of trouble then, you what these revolutionary types are like."

"Er, funky teeth?" Saffy raised her brow. "Revolutionaries? Bloody hell Jack how old are you?"

Jack grimaced, "One thing at a time, Saffy." Would she have a fit if he told her he was four hundred years old? That knowledge would probably go down like a lead balloon. He had to get off this track, all that would come later, so for now, the only thing he could say was, "Would you like to meet my wolf Silver?"