Captain Jim Ellison awoke with a start as the one of the sentries passed by his tent on his nightly patrol. Ellison got and poured some water in the basin sitting on the campstool next to his cot. The Captain slashed some water on this face. He reached for his journal, knowing that he would not be able to go back to sleep any time soon. Opening the journal to a blank page Captain Ellison sat down and began writing down the detail of his dream.

March 23, 1865

I heard somewhere that talking about a dream will make it go away. Since there is no one here that I would feel comfortable discussing this with I hope that by writing down the details I can get rid of this blasted dream once and for all. I haven't had a decent nights sleep in three weeks. Every time I close my eyes I find myself in the same forest. There has been a battle here at sometime. The ground is torn up and the trees that are still standing are marred and maimed by bullets and artillery. As I wander through this place, I keep hearing the sound of someone or something in pain. A sense of urgency fills me as I try to find the source of these sounds.

I track the sounds to a fallen tree where I find a young wolf lying on its side whimpering in pain. I drop down beside the creature. I know somehow that it won't hurt me. I examine it carefully, trying not to hurt the poor thing any more than I possibly can. The wolf is starved and sick and his leg is caught in a steel trap. If this were real life and not a dream I would put the poor creature out of its misery but here in the dream I know that I have to save him. I reach out and stoke the matted fur on its head trying to comfort the beast. I somehow feel a connection to this creature. As I softly stoke its fur, the wolf opens his eyes and looks directly at me for the first time. Deep blue eyes that are clouded with pain and fatigue look at me and for an instant I feel as if I am connected to this creature. Then the eyes slowly close and I wake. Every time I have this dream I am left with a sense of helplessness and a vague feeling that there was something disturbingly familiar about the eyes of that wolf.

Captain Ellison put down his pen and rubbed his eyes. He read back over what he had written before closing the journal. He felt a little better but he still felt that there was something that he needed to do. He leaned over and blew out the lantern hoping to get some sleep before dawn came. His unit would be moving out soon. There had been disturbing rumors of coming from Camp Richards where Confederate prisoners were being sent. Stories of torture, sickness, and other atrocities had reached the ears of Colonel Davis and he wanted to know whether or not they were true.

Miles away at Camp Richards Blair Sandburg lay shivering with fever. Despite his best efforts to keep the wound clean he knew that his leg was infected. Weak from hunger and sickness Blair knew that he would not last much longer. He pulled his threadbare blanket tight around him, eventually falling into an exhausted sleep. Invisible to the other prisoners a large black panther curls around him to stand guard over his dreams.