The autumn in the northern part of Arvenia came particularly harsh and biting, and the canopy of the Black Moon Forest was draped in a rust-red hue, as if soaked in fresh blood. Adrian hunched his back, treading softly on the soft fallen leaves, his short bow clutched tightly in his hand, the string trembling faintly in the cold wind. His hunter's garb was made of rough burlap, its edges worn white, and at his waist hung a steel dagger, its hilt etched with the faded initials left by his father—A.V. His breath clouded in the cold air, and in the distance, the cawing of crows filled the silence.
"Thomas, are you sure that deer ran this way?" Adrian asked in a low voice, his eyes scanning the shadows between the trees. He didn't like this forest. The villagers often spoke of the Black Moon Forest being cursed, that at night, the "Children of the Moon" would appear. Adrian never believed in such superstitions, but each time he stepped into these woods, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him from the shadows.
Thomas, a few paces behind, was carrying a heavy iron hammer, a prized possession he had forged himself at the blacksmith's shop over the course of half a month. He was dressed in a leather apron, soot still on his cheeks, making him look somewhat comical. "I saw it with my own eyes, Adrian. The deer still had the arrow I missed sticking in its leg." He grinned, showing off a set of uneven teeth. "Don't be such an old woman, getting all paranoid. The Children of the Moon are just stories to scare kids."
Adrian grunted but didn't reply. He tightened the bowstring, the arrow aimed at a distant thicket where something had stirred. The wind rustled the leaves, almost as though they were whispering. He held his breath, his fingers lightly pinching the arrow's feathers, preparing to release.
Suddenly, a deep growl echoed from the depths of the forest, low enough to be mistaken for the wind but carrying an unsettling tremor. Adrian's hand jerked, the arrow flying off course and embedding itself in the trunk of an old pine tree. Thomas stopped dead in his tracks, his grip tightening on his hammer, the smile disappearing from his face in an instant.
"What was that?" Thomas whispered, his eyes wide, like brass bells.
"It could be a wolf," Adrian said, trying to keep his voice calm, though his heart began to race. He drew out his dagger, slowly moving toward the direction of the sound. The wolf packs of Black Moon Forest rarely ventured close to humans unless they were starving. He hoped it was just a normal wild animal and not one of the absurd legends the villagers told.
The two of them moved cautiously, stepping on the dry branches that cracked loudly underfoot. The light in the forest was growing dimmer as the dense canopy blocked out most of the sun, leaving only a few stray rays to filter through the trees. Adrian's senses seemed sharper than usual. He could smell the dampness of the earth, tinged with a faint metallic scent—blood.
"Adrian, I don't like this place," Thomas's voice quivered. "Let's turn back. That deer isn't worth it."
"Don't be foolish," Adrian snapped, glancing over his shoulder at him. "You want to go back empty-handed and let the villagers laugh at you?" He suppressed the unease building in his chest and pressed forward. Just then, a massive shadow lunged out of the thicket, charging directly at them.
"Watch out!" Adrian shouted, instinctively releasing the arrow in his hand. The shadow moved with incredible speed, and the arrow barely missed, embedding itself in the ground. This was no deer, nor a typical wolf—it stood about half a man's height, its fur jet-black, and its eyes glowed a fiery crimson in the dim light. Its claws scraped along the earth, leaving deep gashes like they were carved by a blade.
Thomas screamed, swinging his hammer at the creature. The hammer struck it square in the shoulder with a heavy thud, but the creature barely flinched, as though it hadn't even noticed the blow. It turned its gaze toward Thomas, letting out a deafening roar, revealing rows of sharp fangs. Adrian seized the opportunity to rush forward, stabbing his dagger into its flank. The blade sank into its fur, and blood spurted out, splattering his hands.
The creature let out a pained howl and staggered back a few steps, but then it lunged at Adrian. He barely had time to raise his arm to protect his face before the creature collided with him, knocking him to the ground. Its claws tore through his hunting tunic, slashing across his left arm, and the burning pain spread through his body instantly. He gritted his teeth, summoning all his strength to drive the dagger into its side once more. This time, the creature staggered back a few more steps, letting out a low growl before turning and vanishing into the depths of the forest.
"Adrian! Are you okay?" Thomas dropped the hammer, stumbling toward him. His face was pale, beads of cold sweat dotting his forehead, his hands trembling.
Adrian panted heavily, struggling to sit up. His left arm was drenched in blood, and his burlap sleeve had been shredded to pieces. He glanced down, the wound deep enough to expose the bone, but strangely, the pain seemed to be subsiding quickly. He furrowed his brows, tearing off a piece of cloth to hastily wrap the wound. "I'm fine… But what was that thing?"
"It wasn't a wolf." Thomas's voice dropped to a whisper as he picked up his hammer and gripped it tightly. "I've never seen an animal that big. Adrian, we need to get out of here and tell the villagers."
Adrian nodded, forcing himself to stand. His legs felt weak, but he could still walk. He picked up his short bow and looked back at the direction the creature had vanished. A trail of blood stained the earth, mingled with the dirt, and the stench of blood hung heavily in the air. He felt a deep, inexplicable unease rising in his chest—the creature's eyes had not been those of a beast, but seemed almost human in their anger… and something more.
The two of them stumbled out of the Black Moon Forest, the sky darkening toward dusk. The setting sun bathed the village rooftops in a golden glow, and smoke from chimneys rose into the air as though nothing had happened. Thomas rushed toward the church, banging on the rusted copper bell. The deep, resonant sound of the bell echoed through the village, and the villagers quickly dropped their tasks, gathering around.
"That was a werewolf!" Thomas shouted, standing at the front of the crowd, his hammer raised in the air, his voice trembling with urgency. "I saw it with my own eyes in the Black Moon Forest! It almost killed us! Adrian, tell them!"
Adrian stood quietly off to the side, his gaze lowered to his bandaged arm. He didn't speak, only listening to the crowd's gasps and murmurs. Several elderly women began praying softly, making the sign of the cross. A child hid behind his mother, asking quietly, "Did the Children of the Moon really come?"
"Nonsense!" the village elder, a wrinkled old man leaning on a cane, stepped forward. "It was just a bigger wolf, that's all. You young people need to stop listening to those silly stories."
"It wasn't just a wolf!" Thomas insisted, his voice rising. "It had human eyes, I swear!"
The crowd's chatter grew louder. Some suggested lighting torches to search the forest, while others shouted about going to the church for divine protection. Adrian, however, stood still, staring at the wound on his arm. The cloth was already soaked through with blood, but oddly, the bleeding had stopped. He quietly unwrapped the cloth, and though the wound still looked gruesome, it seemed to have healed slightly. He frowned, pressing his fingers against the injury. The pain was sharp, but not as excruciating as it had been.
"Adrian, why aren't you saying anything?" Thomas turned to him, his voice anxious. "You saw it too, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Adrian murmured softly, re-wrapping the cloth around his arm. "I saw it."
He looked up, his gaze drifting past the crowd, toward the Black Moon Forest. The night was settling in, and the moon was rising from the horizon, round and bright like a silver coin, casting a cold light over the land. A sudden chill ran down Adrian's spine, as though the moonlight itself were peering through the treetops, staring directly at him. His left arm ached faintly, as though something was stirring deep inside the wound.
Thomas was still arguing with the villagers, trying to convince the elder to send people to search the forest. Adrian, however, quietly stepped aside, leaning against an old oak tree. His fingers absentmindedly traced the handle of his dagger, and in his mind, the image of those blood-red eyes replayed over and over. He didn't know what that thing had been, but one thing was certain: the moon tonight was brighter than any he had ever seen.