Bright Moon

by Andria Canayo

  She dreamt she walked along a beach, but the water at the shore wasn’t the clear blue-green of the ocean. Instead, it was deep crimson and goopy. With every wave, she became more convinced blood lapped the shore. She peered over the waves, petrified when she saw her family wading in the sea of red. They were up to their hips and making their way deeper. Her mother was ahead of the others and was the first to be sucked beneath the surface. She was lost so quickly it looked as if someone had pulled her feet out from under her.

  “Mom,” Clara heard herself whisper. Tim hadn’t seemed to notice his wife’s dangerous dilemma and continued on. When the blood was the level of his stomach he held still. “Dad!” she tried to warn him, but it was too late and he was pulled beneath as well. Callan made his way to the depth their mother and father had achieved just before disappearing.

  “Callan!” she screamed. “No!” Her legs were stone and running was impossible. He vanished under the swelling blood and she struggled, finding herself on her knees. Someone ran by her and into the hazardous water. She looked up to see Mesha wading her way in and Tyson wasn’t far behind. Jack and Dawn soon appeared as well. One by one they drowned even after she called out to them. She fought, but her body was trapped.

  Someone shook her shoulders and she opened her eyes. She’d forgotten where she was and sat up with an air of confusion. Tyson stood next to the window seat. Normally she would have been embarrassed, but she gasped as her chest compressed.

  “What happened?” Tyson asked.

  “I…” she gasped, but couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “It’s alright, try to calm down and take deep breaths.”

  “I can’t!” her throat closed and she began to panic.

  “Yes you can, it was just a dream. You’re safe now, take a deep breath.” His voice was soothing and calm. He inhaled deeply in effort to get her to follow his example. The method worked and she was able to take several deep breaths until she felt her body relaxing. “There, you see?” Tyson said.

  “I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly once she poised herself. “That’s never happened before.” Her right hand rose to her throat.

  “I believe you just had a panic attack,” he informed her.

  “Did I?” she pushed her hair back. “I feel ridiculous, thank you.”

  Tyson shrugged her thanks aside. “Did you dream about me again?”

  She sat up straight and grabbed a chunk of hair to begin twirling in her fingers. “How did you know my last dream was about you?” she asked suspiciously.

  “It was pretty obvious how scared you were of me when you woke.”

  “Scared of you?” she repeated, stunned. “I was not scared of you.”

  His brow knit. “You just admitted you had a nightmare about me.”

  “Yes.” She looked away and still toying with a strand of hair. “Not the way you’re thinking though. I dreamt the wild dogs were attacking you, they were killing you.”

  He fell silent a moment. “What did you dream just now?”

  “You were dying, all of you…and I couldn’t help.”

  “Clara, you’re stressing yourself too much.”

  “You’ve been avoiding me because you thought I was afraid of you, haven’t you?” she asked, standing as the realization hit her.

  “Of course I have, I thought you…” he hesitated and it was strange to see him in any manner but self assured.

  “What?” Clara urged.

  “I thought you believed me to be a…”

  “A monster?”

  “Yes.”

  She thought it ironic how he chose to keep space between them when all she wanted was to know what it felt like to be in the safety of his arms. She couldn’t help the small smile that spread on her face. “I know you think being a werewolf is awful, but you haven’t been anything that would resemble a monster.”

  Chuckling, Tyson shook his head in desperation. “You are hopeless! You understand befriending werewolves isn’t a walk in the park, right?”

  “Danger, danger, danger!” she said while waving her hands in the air. “I know.” She thought she’d invoked a lecture for sure, but he only laughed.

  “Where is Callan?” she asked.

  “They haven’t returned, do you want me to call him back?”

  “No.” She glanced out the window as if she might catch a glimpse of him. “I’m worried. He seemed a little put out about Koty leaving.”

  Tyson nodded.

  “You were sure she was leaving almost before she left the house. How did you know?”

  He shrugged. “I could sense it, she was a threat.”

  “She was a pup, wasn’t she?”

  Tyson nodded again. “Callan found her about six months ago. Pups should have a pack, but Koty is too free willed to let anyone guide her.”

  “Do you think she’ll want to come back someday?”

  “She’s not welcome back.”

  “Oh.”

  “You think me callous for doing such a thing?”

  “How should I know? Do you think you’re callous?”

  He shook his head. “No, callous would have been destroying her, which is what any other pack would have done.”

  “Kill her?”

  “Yes.”

  “That is harsh,” she said quietly and looked into his steely blue eyes. It was hard to see anything but determination in them. What he’d determined to do was beyond her. Every so often she found herself searching his eyes for traces of warmth, usually she found him unreadable.

  “Dawn seems to think you forget to eat.”

  “What?”

  “Dawn is very concerned you don’t eat enough. She’s in the kitchen now preparing lunch.”

  Embarrassed to be discussing her eating habits, her cheeks went warm. “I don’t forget to eat.”

  “Pups like your brother eat a lot, but after our first few years, food becomes a little less essential. We can go days without eating, even as pups, and are none the worse. If you are hungry, you don’t have to wait for us, help yourself to what’s in the kitchen.”

  Her face got hotter. “Thanks.”

  “For now, it would ease Dawn’s worries if you ate something.” He indicated the door, hinting they should start down right away.

  “Before that,” Clara said quickly. “I hate to repeat myself over and over, but you implied we would see Jothram soon after we moved to this location. We’re here now, do you think you’ll get a chance to take me to him before too long?”

  “You’re in quite a hurry for him to completely ruin your life, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “I won’t be satisfied until this is done.”

  “We don’t have the equipment,” Tyson enlightened her. “You need gear that will protect you from the elements.”

  “Where will I find this gear?”

  He laughed. “I’ve taken care of it. The wait will delay you from meeting your Jothram a couple days, but the gear will be here soon.”

  “He is not mine,” she snapped.

  “Callan was right, you are too easy to tease,” Tyson said and his eyes smiled. Her lips pinched together and she all but glared. Her bravado didn’t affect him.

  “Are you ready for a late lunch?”

  She couldn’t say no.

  Chapter 9 - Nightmare

  Callan didn’t return until the next day, but he was boisterous and rejuvenated—evocative of the Callan she’d known before their mom’s funeral. Mesha’s return wasn’t long after. Jack seemed to want to stay in the wilderness for a time.

  Tyson informed Callan and Clara what he’d meant by Clara needing proper gear for the elements. Jothram had gone into hiding so deep, he couldn’t be reached by car and they would have to go on foot. She was going to ride Callan when he was in his wolf form so they could travel faster and would need special clothing to keep her mortal body warm.

  Mesha was insistent on going as well, but Tyson told her no. When she persisted, he said he could only take one extra w
olf and she would have to fight Callan for the spot. Mesha looked like she couldn’t hate Callan more than she did in that moment, but didn’t offer a challenge.

  As the days passed, Callan somehow found pink roses despite the freezing temperatures and Clara woke to a fresh one each morning. Her brother was shockingly chipper considering what had transpired with Koty. He went out at night and spent every waking moment with her by day as if he too wanted to make up for lost time. He didn’t seem to mind that Mesha hung around pouting more often than not.

  On the fifth morning after Tyson’s promised few days, she woke with a determined mind to leave that day no matter the cost. She showered and dressed, mentally preparing herself to face Tyson. She marched to the window and threw the curtains open with gusto, but the sun didn’t touch the glass. Snow had piled so high in the night it covered the upper story window. She groaned and sat at the window seat, punching a cushion. Tyson would never allow her delicate mortal body out in weather like that. Not even the happy pink rose standing fresh and tall could comfort her. There was nothing to do except go to the kitchen and have breakfast. Because she still felt a stranger in their world, she tread softly. Dawn and Jack were just finishing their breakfast. The storm cloud that usually hung over Jack graced the kitchen as he sat hunched over the counter.

  “Good morning,” she said tentatively as she entered the kitchen. Dawn was at the stove, but turned to greet her with her ever smiling demeanor.

  “Hello, Clara dear. How are you this morning?”

  “I’m fine. How are you and Jack?”

  “We are doing perfectly,” Dawn answered. “I daresay you came in search of something to eat? I’ve some porridge on the burner.”

  “That sounds great,” she agreed.

  “Sit there by Jack.” She waved a hand at a stool.

  “It’s very strange,” Jack commented in his gravelly voice as she sat next to him.

  “Hm?” she asked.

  “It’s strange you don’t eat meat. Aunt Dawn can fry you some bacon and eggs, I just had some.”

  “Oh no, thank you,” she answered quickly.

  “It’s peculiar. You couldn’t get me to eat mushy stuff.” He wrinkled his nose as Dawn set a bowl in front of Clara.

  “Just ignore him,” she said sweetly. “He’s getting on near sixty years old, but is stuck in a teenager’s frame of mind. I’m afraid he’ll never change his love of meat.”

  “That’s alright, he shouldn’t have to,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t think it would have mattered if he was able to age. Callan’s twenty and still doesn’t like vegetables. He used to say I became a vegetarian to compensate for his consumption of meat. My father is the same way.”

  Dawn laughed and Jack cracked a rare grin. Clara ate the steaming bowl of oatmeal, then got to her feet, going around the counter to wash her bowl. Dawn promptly took the dish. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, as she did every morning. “It’s no trouble.”

  “I am sure,” Dawn assured her.

  “Thanks for breakfast, it was tasty.”

  Dawn smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  She made her way back up the stairs, thinking she would see if Mesha was in. All of the rooms were located upstairs. She was about to knock on Mesha’s door when she heard a muffled yell from Tyson’s room. She hesitated, trying to peer through the crack left by the slightly open door. She moved across the hall and put a palm on the door, listening. She knocked, but he didn’t answer. She pushed the door open, tense upon entry. Tyson lay asleep on his bed. He thrashed suddenly and moaned in the depths of a nightmare. She went to stand by the bed and Tyson was breathing heavily. He showed no other signs of aggression and the nightmare seemed to have passed. The misleading stillness lasted all of two seconds before he frowned and a growl rumbled from his throat. His arms trembled and the pillow he crushed tore in two.

  “Tyson?” She tried to wake him with no results. She put a hand on his shoulder to try again. “Tyson?” His eyes popped open and his fingers closed around her wrist. He jerked her to the bed so quickly that she almost lost her breakfast. In the same motion he straddled her and put a hand on her throat. His eyes were wild and tinged with gold. His awareness came from his dream and he focused on what he was doing. He took a few shuddering breaths and his eyes locked with hers as he leaned back

  “Clara, you really are insane!” he growled.

  Callan appeared in Tyson’s doorway. “Hey Ty—” he started to say and stopped short. “Oh, sorry,” he said then backed out. She was amazed at his lack of concern.

  “Callan!” Tyson growled. He moved off her to try and explain. Feeling embarrassed and exhilarated all at once, she sat up. Tyson stood in the middle of the floor with his fists balled and his back to her. She waited, perched on the edge of his bed, afraid to say anything.

  “What were you doing?” he asked without facing her.

  “You had a nightmare,” she offered as way of explanation.

  “And what? You thought you would come and wake me from it?” He wheeled around, his eyes still lit.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You need to get out.” He grabbed her roughly by the arm and propelled her toward the door, pushing her into the hall. The latch clicked firmly behind her. Mesha stood just outside her room, looking amused.

  “What?” Clara asked suspiciously.

  “You are brave.”

  “How do you mean?” she asked in an effort to try and act innocent.

  “You went into the lion’s den, so to speak. Do you know how dangerous that is?”

  “I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong.”

  “You should realize Tyson doesn’t reprimand you the way he would the rest of us.”

  “He would discipline you for going in his room?”

  “I would never go in there in a million years, not unless he asked me to. You’ve seen how aggressive he can be.”

  Clara nodded. “I never realized how difficult I am to him. He’s probably about ready to strangle me.”

  “Oh no,” Mesha said quickly.

  With a sigh, Clara went to her room. Mesha followed her closely, not needing an invitation.

  “Don’t worry, I know it’s hard to understand a world you haven’t been given complete access to.”

  She faltered in falling to her bed, wondering at Mesha’s choice of words. She wanted to ask a question that had been pestering her for some time, but she was nervous her friend would think she’d gone mad.

  “Something on your mind?” she asked when Clara fell into a stipulating silence.

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  “Do you think someone would be crazy to…want to become a werewolf?” she asked slowly.

  “Meaning you?” Mesha smiled.

  Clara drew a deep breath as if that could draw courage. “Yes.”

  “Personally, I don’t think it’s crazy. I rather enjoy being one. Tyson would probably tear me to pieces if he knew I said that to you.”

  “He can’t hear you?”

  “Not right now,” Mesha answered with a smirk.

  Clara leaned forward. “Tell me more about being a wolf.”

  Mesha was only too happy to oblige, telling her how it was to become a creature of the night when the moon could hold you hostage for days and nights at a time, how it was difficult to want to return to human form, how exhilarating it was to be stronger and faster than any beast. The more Clara heard about becoming a werewolf, the more she started to question if it would be such a bad thing.

  Chapter 10 - Trapped

  Clara was snowed in for a week. The others were able to dig themselves out earlier, but she was mortal and not allowed to do such things. They had little choice. Callan was the youngest werewolf of the group and the most uneasy when trapped indoors. When he wasn’t sleeping, or with her, he was eating or out on a run. He was often so busy that she wondered how he found time to locate her rose every day.

/>   After the episode in Tyson’s bedroom, she did her best to avoid him. The cottage was small, but they managed to keep apart. She got up early to eat, sometimes before Dawn who seemed to otherwise live in the kitchen. After that, she would try to read from a small collection of books she’d discovered in the living area. She found it was hard to focus on anything when all she could think about was Jothram or the desire she had to become a werewolf. The week was nearly up when she decided she was done with yet another book. Listening for movement, she hurried downstairs. The bookshelf was located next to the TV in the entertainment room. Clara put the book back and scanned the shelves for anything that looked remotely interesting.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  She jumped and wheeled around. Her attempt to be quick and discreet caused her to overlook the fact that Tyson sat on the sofa. “I haven’t,” she lied after the initial fear subsided.

  “You haven’t pestered me about Jothram for days, I would say you’re avoiding me,” he said as he stood and strode over.

  She looked to the floor and twirled her hair when another lie wouldn’t come as easily.

  “Perhaps we’ve been avoiding each other.”

  Her attention snapped to him.

  “I’m not very good at apologies and I owe you one,” he explained.

  She shook hear head. “No, you don’t have to—”

  He put a finger on her lips and it was impossible to look away from his intense gaze, even when a pleasing shiver played down her spine. “I’m sorry for behaving like a bully, alright?”

  She nodded and her heart fell when he removed his touch. Despite her racing heart, she managed to speak in a small voice. “I-I’m sorry for going in your room.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have in your place, as you well know.”

  “Mesha said she would never dare go in your room. I don’t mean to do anything the others can’t.”