The sky was tinted a deep blue, the kind one sees just before the stars show through. The shallow sound of rhythmic thumping framed the scene. Tall, black trees encompassed the area, and despite the heat, goosebumps rose on my forearms and legs. "Summer" a voice whispered, somewhere deep and unexposed. My vision was hazy and confusing. Nothing stayed still, my eyes were on constant panorama of the sky, moving with each beat of the dull noise. Now, gauging control of my neck, I cast my gaze down, and saw rocky, uneven gravestones stones surrounded by fresh, malleable dirt. A large paw print compressed the dirt under its weight, larger than even my hand when all fingertips are extended. My knees were wet with the slightly dampened dirt, and the long, flowing nightgown I wore billowed in the wind behind me. My red hair danced around my face. Again, the muffled voice bellowed"Summer... come to me, child. I have a gift for you." I shook my head, terrified. Streams of tears had reached my jawbone on either side, and I answered the voice

"Whatever you have, I don't want!"

The hands connected to me seemed to belong to someone other than myself as they planted into the dirt, deeper and deeper until my wrists were only visible in the soil. Again the deep, dark voice whispered

"My gift. The best of all. Dig, Summer. Dig."

I read the tombstone in front of me 'Ezekiel J. Wolfe'. My fingers stretched out, grabbing mounds of dirt and tossing them out of the way, digging deep into the ground. The sound of a pounding heart grew louder as dirt cleared the area. My nails tapped against hard, polished wood. The casket. I thought no more. Driven only by instinct, and the command of the voice, I cleared enough dirt to open the lid of the casket. With a slight screech of the hinges, the heavy wooden piece fell away. Inside, was not my grandfather.

A large, black wolf lied inside, crowded by the human-sized casket. It looked peaceful, sleeping. My eyes switched between the gravestone that clearly wrote Ezekiel J. Wolfe, and the beast in his casket.

In an instant, the peace was gone, and a blazing, fiery red eye opened, and the wolf lunged, this time for my throat.

I sprung up into a sitting position. My heart rattled in my chest and I gasped for breath as if I had run a mile. I was in darkness, but I could feel that my pillow was drenched in sweat.

In the bathroom, I washed the sweat from my brow, and watched thick mud drip from my hands into the sink. Perplexed, I examined the compacted dirt under all ten of my nails, and thought of the nightmare I'd had. I whispered to myself, feeling panic rush into my senses

"Just think... think of any other reason you'd have dirt under your fingernails... think... THINK DAMN IT!"

Temporary relief came when I realized I had started the garden today, and planted 12 kinds of seeds with my hands. The relief fled when I remembered that I'd worn gloves.

I put on a bathrobe and headed downstairs, planning to call Dakota, even though it was 1 a.m., and I simply couldn't explain the nightmare I just had; but I was throughly spooked and hoped he could come by.

Just before reaching the phone, it rang. The shrill sound of the noise was enough to send me a foot and a half in the air, and I tripped over the last stair. By the next ring, my hand had encompassed the yellowed plastic wall phone, and I placed it to my ear

"Hello?"

On the other side, Dakota spoke, sounding disturbed

"Summer-- I'm coming over. Ezekiel's grave has been dug-up and I want to make sure you're alright."

I gasped

"What?! Are the police there?"

On the other line, unintelligible voices were angrily speaking. Dakota replied

"The cops don't usually make it out here... Me and some of the guys were jogging by and saw it--"

A shrill voice rang out, that could only be Ivy

"What did you think you'd find, Dakota?! I know you dug up my grandpa's grave. You're SICK!"

Another voice in the background told her that the claim was absurd. I said, before hanging up the phone

"Just... come over. We need to talk."

I slid down the wall, my knees to my chest. I don't know why, I sure as hell don't know how... but the one who dug up Ezekiel's grave... was me.

...

I opened the front door to Dakota, whose broad shoulders were slumped forward, and his brow was furrowed, as if he was angry, or confused. The night, since my nightmare, was so still. I whispered

"Come in."

He passed me in the doorway, briefly touching my side. He looked tired. I thought to offer him a glass of water, but lost my train of thought when he spoke

"There's a lot to explain, Summer... You might want to sit down for this."

I cocked my head, now sitting down on the couch in the family room. He sat on the coffee table, facing me. I idly brushed a little dirt off the hem of my nightgown. He began

"There's a reason that we're not going to call the police about Ezekiel's grave..."

I felt hot and uncomfortable, despite the night being cool. I began fanning myself with my hands hurriedly. Dakota said in a voice that sounded concerned, yet distant from the room

"Summer?"

I fanned myself even harder, his words blurring now. I blurted out frantically

"I did it! I don't know why! God Dakota I wish I knew what I was doing-- I thought it was a nightmare and I-- I guess it wasn't! What the hell is wrong with me?"

He grabbed my hands, enveloping them with his own, and commanded

"Breathe. Breathe, it's okay... It's okay..."

I focused on his eyes. Warm, big and brown. His eyes shifted to my fingernails, which were rimmed with brown from the dirt. His gaze traveled up to my forearms and he turned my left wrist to see the marks. They looked more aggravated than ever before. I attempted to jerk the arm away

"Stop it, Dakota. You know I'm insecure about the scratches--"

He traced his fingers over them, and met eyes with me again

"I need to tell you... about a part of yourself. You have been marked."