Lune
The boy slowly stepped out of the wooded shadows, the barrel of his shotgun continuously trained on my head. He didn't look much older than Cassandra with his coiffured hair sitting atop a youthful face. I titled my head, catching a glimpse of the serious look in his eyes and rigid posture. Actually, I take that back. He looked much older. Studying him from afar, I felt a strange air shrouding him. If it were me on my own, I wouldn't have trusted him, but Cassandra seemed to know him. I shifted warily. Still, I had to be cautious.
"What am I doing here?" The boy laughed. "I was going to ask you the same thing, Cassandra. Don't we have dinner together soon?"
"I still have time. Claire and I already picked out an outfit." Cassandra shook her head, fixing the boy with a stern look. "But that's beside the point, Peter."
The corner of Peter's mouth fell slightly, disappointed. "I figured something was up," he said finally. "You weren't acting normal."
"How would you know what's considered normal for me?"
He chuckled. "Seriously, Andra? You, me, and Claire, we were best friends, just the three of us. I know you like the back of my hand." Peter suddenly looked away, kicking at the dirt on the ground. "And also, at that moment leaving the town hall, you didn't find me as lovesome as usual." Peter paused, looking back up at her. "What were you doing in town hall?"
"It was nothing, Peter."
"Just like how your hand was nothing?" He gestured at me with the shotgun. "Did that thing hurt you?"
Cassandra moved to stand in front of me, and in turn, the shotgun. "Lune would never hurt me."
"Lune? It has a name now?"
"Yes. She has a name. Lune is human just like you and I, Peter."
"Bullshit. That thing has been killing off all the livestock one by one, and do you know what will happen when that food supply is gone?" He paused. "It'll come after us."
"No, Peter, this isn't what you think it is. Lune isn't—"
"Why are you defending this monster?"
"She's not a monster," Cassandra said. "She was cursed. She didn't choose to look this way."
"Cursed, huh? If that's so, it must have done something to anger the Gods. Even if it didn't look like a monster, wouldn't it still be one?"
Peter's words struck a clashing chord in my heart. I couldn't remember why I was cursed, no one can, but that was too much of a coincidence, wasn't it? Maybe everyone chose not to remember, and when the children asked, the elders brushed it off as our glorious destiny, but deep down, they would have been writhing with shame. Whole towns weren't simply cursed just to be cursed. We as a people must have done something wrong. Something that would deem us evil. I shrunk closer to the ground. That meant everyone I loved and cared for were monsters. I was a monster.
I turned my gaze on Peter and the hatred etched into his young face. He wanted to kill me—he would kill me. He'd make sure of it. But one misfire… He'd kill Cassandra too. Not intentionally, no, but she'd be dead nonetheless. My presence would be her doom.
I had to get away from her.
I had to run.
Tensing my legs, I readied to flee, but I paused. When? When would be the right moment? If I ran too early, Peter would notice and pull the trigger. Too late, and Cassandra may face the same end. My tail thrashed back and forth.
Wait for the right moment.
"Peter, we could be doing something brilliant here," Cassandra said. "Wolves are beautiful creatures. Graceful, strong, agile. We shouldn't be killing them off. We should—"
"Wolves are the beasts of the damned, composed of pure evil. Anyone who believes otherwise is a witch."
I saw Peter's expression freeze and Cassandra's posture go rigid. Even though I had been exiled from society for more than a decade and the passage of time changes all, I knew witchcraft would still be the highest crime. There was nothing worse than an immoral, filthy mortal abusing the sacred powers of the Gods. And to be accused of such a heinous scandal…
"Peter," Cassandra said softly.
"I don't want to believe it. I won't believe it!" He ran a hand through his hair, the shotgun's barrel falling to point at the ground. "I've wanted to ask you to dinner so many times, Cassandra," Peter said, "but I was so scared. I was afraid you'd turn me down."
"Turn you down?" Cassandra laughed. "Why would I ever do that?"
In turn, Peter smiled. "I don't know, but you shine so brilliantly. I guess I thought I could never compare to you." He paused and set his gaze on me, smile going cold. "You," he said. "You are the cause. You cast a spell on her, brainwashed her into believing your lies."
Peter raised his gun again and I flinched away from it, taking a step back. Cassandra stepped between us again, her hands raised in warning.
Tensions were escalating, but I couldn't run. Not now. Not yet.
"Peter, no," Cassandra said.
"Andra, let's just go home. Together. Let me rid the world of this evil, and we can forget this ever happened. Let me free you from its control."
"I'm not under her control," she snapped. "Lune has done nothing to harm our community. The real monster is still loose, and it is killing, and it will not stop until we do something."
"That's what it wants you to believe."
"You're not listening to me, Peter!"
"Yeah, cause I think I've heard enough."
Peter stepped to the side and aimed the shotgun at my head, and in his eyes, I saw nothing but cold, hard hatred.
"Peter, no!"
Just as he pulled the trigger, Cassandra grabbed the shotgun, complicating the shot. The bullet hit the tree directly behind me, and I felt bits of bark hit my back. The two struggled for control of the gun, shouting, shouting. My heart hammered in my chest.
Now.
Now was the time to run.
Without a second's hesitation, I bolted into the trees. I heard Cassandra call out my name, and Peter yelling to give chase. I didn't turn back. I didn't look back. I needed to get far away from here. Home. I needed to go home and to Marvey. Marvey, oh, Marvey. I felt a surge of heartache well up in my chest. I had been gone for so long. So, so long. He must be worried sick, but…
I crouched down beside a log, curling up in an attempt to hide my unmistakable, white fur.
But if he was worried, why didn't he come find me? Why didn't anyone come find me? Then I remembered Jaxton and his threats. He told them. He told them all. They all believed I was inciting an overthrow, that I was treasonous. I truly could never return.
"Lune?" a voice called out. "Lune, are you there?"
Cassandra. No, I couldn't let her find me. I'd hurt her like I did everyone else.
Holding my breath, I crept out from my hiding spot, keeping low to the ground. I saw her wandering the forest, searching for her friend, for me.
I'm sorry, I thought before running off into the woods.
I needed to find a place to hunker down for the night. I could risk coming back when everything died down a little, but for now—
"Gotcha."
The butt of a shotgun flew out of the bushes and rammed into the side of my head, the impact sending me sprawling on the ground. Blinking the stars out of my eyes, I scrambled back to my feet and dashed for cover. The sound of a shotgun told me I had just narrowly avoided death, and the clicks of a reload told me he would try again. I made a sharp turn, skidding on the leaves beneath my paws and dodging another bullet.
On Peter's third shot, I wasn't so lucky.
The bullet hit me square in the side. My legs crumpled, and I tumbled to the ground. A sob crawled up my throat as I contorted my body to assess the damage. The blood ran everywhere, staining the soil and my fur. I struggled to get back to my paws, but a piercing pain shot through my body, leaving me immobile on the ground.
Footsteps drew near and I looked up, meeting the dead, merciless eyes of Peter. He didn't bother to spare me a sliver of hope, reloading his shotgun right in front of me and sealing my fate.
"Your tyranny ends here, beast." He pointed the shotgun at my head.
"No!" Cassandra tackled Peter to the ground, wrestling him for the weapon. Amidst the fighting, Cassandra spared a second to shoot a glance at me and said, "Run!"
But I couldn't.
My body was numb and growing more so by the second. I felt a sticky liquid lapping at my paws. Blood, I presumed. My blood. Peter threw Cassandra off of him and onto the ground. Then, brushing off his pants, he stood and readied his gun. A tear rolling down my face, I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself for the finale. Peter aimed, and he fired.
But the bullet never entered my body.
I forced my eyes open. Cassandra stood above me, teetering and swaying on her feet. A red splotch formed on her chest and only bloomed further. Time seemed to slow as she fell, finally collapsing beside me. A scream wanted to fly from my mouth, but through the world of pain, all I could manage was a barely audible whimper.
Peter stood deathly still, eyes wide and frozen as if he was still assessing and unable to process the damage he had done. The shotgun slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground. His chest heaving up and down, Peter looked wildly around from me to the girl and back to me again. He took a single step backwards before turning tail and fleeing into the night.
I crawled closer to Cassandra. Her gaze stared upwards, unseeing, but remnants of her final moments still lingered in her eyes. Shock, hurt, betrayal. "I tried," I whispered to her. "I really tried to avoid this." I rested my head on her shoulder. Its warmth was fleeting. "I'm so sorry."
A faint light crept along the ground, settling upon the two of us, lighting up the pool of red in which we lay. Two bloods mixed in the moonlight, growing brighter and brighter, and through the light I could see a figure of beauty and grace and life. Her gaze shone with pity as she walked towards us, each soft and soundless step illuminating the ground surrounding it. The woman reached down and stroked my head.
"My dear, how you have suffered." Her voice sounded like a choir of angels, thundering, ethereal, and soothing all at once. "Your sacrifice shall not be in vain," she murmured.
The woman stepped back and began to glow. She took the light the moon so blessedly gave us; upon touching the ground, the beams of moonshine snaked their way to the lady, a stunning display of magic and power. As she grew brighter and brighter, the moon grew dimmer and dimmer until it was nothing but a grey circle in the sky like an empty dinner plate. I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the blinding light. The winds howled and wailed, and I could scarcely hear my own thoughts.
The world grew brighter and louder and brighter and louder. My eyes were seared and my ears would surely burst. A scream tore itself free, escaping through the mouth I had so desperately tried to clench shut.
But then everything stopped and it was quiet.
Unable to see, feel, or hear anything, I let out a final breath, a sigh of relief.
And then it was silent.