These prickles pierce my arms as I crouch low to the sweet-scented earth. The forest is damp — mist swirls — and I am bone-chilled.
“I left my warm bed in the night to come here?”
I chastise my stupidity. The blankets were so snug and here is so…
But the crack of a twig and sure crunch of hooves stops all thoughts dead.
Through the darkness I catch my breath, as though, if the beautiful beast were to hear, he would hurl me across the sodden ground with those striking antlers.
Clammy nightclothes cling, and a bead of drizzle — or sweat — streaks across my cheek. His silhouette slinks between the outlines of branches in the vapor.
“It is him,”
“Be still my heart.”
“Does he see me?”
I squat even lower, curled in a ball of wet leaves, and he walks over, his head ground-ward and nostrils flared.
Gasping, I see my hand rise to greet his muzzle and stroke his velvet neck.
For a second relief-washed, a wave of calm soothes me until I wake in bed with a startle.
The clock on the nightstand says 3.30 am. That’s the time the universe births miracles into the inkling of dawn’s edge.
Rising, I tread with soft steps to the bathroom mirror, and look my reflection in the eye. My iris shows the proud stag of the forest staring back at me. He walks with me now, affirming my footsteps with courage.
Each dream animal you see in your sleep offers a gift. You may fear the creature when he walks into view, but accept what he gives and your power will grow.
Copyright © 2019 Bridget Webber. All rights reserved