My head is going to explode. I know it is.
Luna curled up into a fetal ball, convulsing with spasms of pain. She could hear distant cries of: “Luna, honey! What’s wrong?”, and, “Hey! Luna! Get a grip!”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Images popped behind her eyes, like someone had slipped a slide show behind her retinas.

An abandoned temple. A dull-brown colored wolf. His blazing red eyes. A white light.

The two wolves met in a flurry of jaws. The fight continued. Both were wounded. The white wolf staggered backwards, the wound on her back bleeding severely; her snow-white fur was dyed red.

They lunged at each other again, and this time, both found their mark.

Both held each other, determined not to let go.
They died together, gripping each other in the cold embrace of death.

Luna shivered as if the temperature had dropped. She could faintly feel the tears rolling down her face.

Is this my fate? she thought.

Was I born only to…

die?