Under the moonlight

 “Welcome home, love. How was your hunt?” Phryne takes in the worn appearance of her mate as he strides through the room, still a bow in hand and sporting the outfit he wore earlier the day. Living in the outskirts proved itself to be challenging. Especially the constant need of hunting as they are hours away from the comfort of trading, but it was a breath of fresh air, solemn, and peaceful. Something the once afflicted family has always needed. Phryne thought it was a fair trade. “Found a boar near the lake south from here and it’s a big one love. We could have a feast and still have a lot for the next”, A delightful wrinkled grin forms his lip just as he hung the bow and said lips are on Phryne’s high cheekbones. A habitual form of greeting between lovers with years on end. The excitement elicited a small smile of affection plastered on Phryne’s lips and just as she was about to lean in and reward her mate, the increasing sound of known little eager footsteps marched into the room and now jumps suddenly into the air to be caught by previously hunting-wearied strong arms. “Father look! I grew a tail”, their 5 years old son wagged his pre-mature but nonetheless beautiful ash-brown tail as he regarded the furry thing in between his lower back and buttocks. Werewolves when they transfigure are truly vigorous intimidating creatures. Towering over other species at an average height of 7 feet with 9 being the tallest, snarling teeth reveals long fangs that no doubt can latch onto a prey’s deepest flesh, and those physical capabilities coupled with rationale make them one of the deadliest creatures, men have ever encountered.  Though birth until at least the age of a decade and a half, they are as vulnerable as werewolves can get with their premature bodies’ inability to transfigure. That leaves perhaps the tail. It is the first to develop in their bodies, even 4 years young. “That’s amazing. I bet you’ll grow nicely into a big fox” Phryne’s mate said, eyebrows raising in an obviously teasing manner. “No silly, I’m a weewolf” The little boy argued lightheartedly. I’m truly lucky. Phryne thought as her endearing gaze fell over the still bantering duo. Her lover’s eyes roam around the room as a glint of curiosity lightly passes it, “Where’s Arya love?” He eventually queried the whereabouts of their daughter. Phryne adjusted herself on the seat to point over the bedroom, “Napping” she answered. “Got overly excited after she was finally able to transfigure. She started leaping and rushing into the woods. You should have seen her love, the happiest she’s ever been” Phryne continued, recalling the amount of joy in her daughter’s eyes. Something that once mirrored her own when she was younger. A feeling of finally being whole. “What? It’s truly a shame I missed it” He sounded genuinely forlorn. Werewolves consider transfiguration as an important moment of their lives, and it is no secret that he wanted to be part of that. Transfiguration depends on the state of the body and it varies from one person to another. Arya, at the age of 15, has started to feel the various changes in her body, but it wasn’t until she’s 16 and earlier that day that she was finally able to transfigure into a 7 feet tall ash brown werewolf. “It’s fine love. You couldn’t have known” Phryne tried to appease her mate, “Though unfortunately, we can’t have that feast you spoke of… It’s almost winter”, She added. “Right. I’ll check out back if we have enough to last for the season,” he looked over his son who was now busy playing under the table, and asked, “Son, can you fetch me a cup of water in the kitchen please?” The boy willingly sauntered out of the room and into the kitchen with a brief nod of his tiny head. “Now, where were we?” Phryne’s lover directed at her as he leaned in closer. “In the living room,” she quipped, garnering her a chuckle from his mouth that was just a few inches from her own. “Can I have you on that silk dress later?” “No, that is my favorite. You’d rip it.” “Swear on the boar, I won’t.” “Liar”, she smiled onto his mouth as they lightly kissed- An ear-piercing shriek cut through the air and the perfect moment vanished like it was never there, swallowed whole by the sudden dark atmosphere. That violent scream was something she’s never heard nor wished to come from that melodic tiny voice. It sounded unrecognizable at the same time that it was. Maybe because Phryne with all her might tried to deny that the horrible shriek wasn’t coming from- tried to fight all the images that came to mind. She doesn’t even hear herself anymore when the name she gave her son ripped through her throat, “LUCAS!” Her foot swiftly took her out of the room. Vaguely aware of her mate as he darts out faster than her, only to be stopped by the sight before him. It’s been a while since she’s seen that look- a look he had once as he watched the fire burn his home village- a look she promised to take away and yet, here they are. The difference is that only this time, a similar one is plastered on hers. Phryne took in the creature standing in the kitchen. In a cabin, they built themselves from the stack of oak woods. The cup of water and its contents spilled on the wooden floor.  The first thought that came to mind was horrendous. Ironically most creatures bathe under the beauty of the moonlight amplifying their own, and yet, the light only makes this creature even more hideous. Phryne’s felt her eyes started to burn and blur. A feeling she can’t quite describe flows through her like a storm when her gaze fell over Lucas’ nearly unconscious body. His limp body held up against gravity by long pale fingers on his throat, one that contrasts the boy’s tan rich complexion. Lucas’ eyebrows are knitted together in his struggle, grappling on the predator’s bony hands in an effort to break free. Oh how truly little he is- the effort so truly barren. And yet, he was still able to croak out, “Mommy.” Shaky as it was, the cry rippled to Phryne’s and his father’s bones, and whatever it was that left them on trance vanished. “Let him…” Go. The rest of the words came out as a vicious war cry of a werewolf- of a father that has something to lose. In all his might gathered from the strength and pace of his legs, he lunged unto the perilous gigantic beast’s lower body and tackled it out of the house, leaving a hole in the cabin and shards of glass on the ground. The vigorous assault made it release Lucas from its grasp and Phryne, in milliseconds, was quick enough to catch the little boy from his fall and settled him lightly in her arm. Alive, He’s alive. Phryne thought as relief washes over her, appeasing the feeling of hopelessness a moment ago. “M-mother” Phryne found herself addressed by another of her most favorite people. Another one that she would never let anyone harm. To all be damned. Phryne looked at her troubled daughter as she took in the disaster that is their home. Watched as Arya let the slightest form of teardrops on the side of her rosy cheeks when she saw her unconscious injured brother. Arya has always been a strong one, even when young. Many times she fought herself from crying. When she scraped her knees, or when she lost her favorite toy, she’d sniff a moment and that was the end of it. It seemed even that act has its limitations. “What happened?” Arya asked. Phryne never needed to explain as Arya finally noticed the ruckus that was happening outside. Roars, high-pitched screeches, and grunts of struggle started to get louder after the initial shock and when Arya caught glimpse of the creature, suddenly, everything made sense. The beast looked like it had its flesh sucked out of it and its bones are carved underneath its pale skin like it was washed out. A thin mist of black surrounds its skin as if even in its gigantic body, evil couldn’t quite be contained. It has hooded white marbles without pupils and its teeth all pointedly sharp, Arya was sure it could cut through bones as well. One thing that stood out the most though was its wings. The shape like a bat’s but the size? Enormous, Arya thought. Once Phryne assessed the brawl outside, and something became clearly inevitable. Her mate was a great werewolf no doubt. 8 feet tall with dark gray furs and marks of battle on his body- signs of a survivor. To an outsider, the brawl would seem like they were on equal footing, but Phryne knew better. By the stress of his tendons, He is getting tired, Phryne realized. Even in this creature’s frail-looking structure, it seemed like it has enormous limitless vigor like it was playing with its toy. So she carried her son and placed him softly in Arya’s arms. She kissed them both on the forehead. Arya decided she hated that- how it felt too much like goodbye. “I want you to transfigure and run as fast as your legs could, okay?” Phryne said softly, she held back the burn in her eyes as she realized that this would probably be their last conversation, at the same time she decided it’s her least favorite. “N-no mother, I can already fight! Let me help please...” Arya protested, letting all tears from all those years run finally on her cheeks. “You are helping baby,” Phryne said as she cupped her daughter’s cheeks and wiped her tears, “I need you to help us protect your brother.” “But- “ “Please.” Maybe part of it was the desperation, but mostly, it was the sadness in her mother’s eyes that Arya finally relented. She closed her eyes and took the deepest of breaths- perhaps in the air she’ll find the strength to leave her anchors. At some point, she found herself nodding. “Escape at the back door and go north to the kingdom. Straight to Selene” Phryne instructed. Arya knew of Selene, not only is she known as the fiercest werewolf of all time, but also, she was intelligent and wise. It only made sense for her to lead all of their people.  “Promise me, you won’t look back.” Arya shook her head. She hates this type of promise. For some reason, this was the promise she found the hardest, acting like she was blind to their suffering. “Promise me!” Phryne said urgently “I promise” “Now go!” And so she did. As Arya turned her back and began to run at the back door while carrying Lucas, she heard her mother softly say, “I love you” before the melodic voice turned into a familiar roar. Once out the door, she transfigured into her own and ran as fast as she could. Arya did as she promised, never looked back even when she replied voicelessly, I love you too.