At a crossroads from one place to another sat a little idyllic town of thatched wooden houses, with farmland to one side and an ancient forest to the other. In one house at the edge of the forest lived a carpenter and a girl who everyone assumed was his daughter.
The girl laid restlessly upon her bed with her eyes fixed upon the shutter that her uncle always left locked. Until, at last, she got up and tried it. Never before had she managed to open it no matter how she tried, but this night it slid open with ease.
She took a few moments to stare out into the forest, at the spot where the moon would rise. Occasionally the moon would come up during daylight hours, before her uncle would lock them inside for the night. Those were the only times she had been able to manage to get a glimpse of her father since her mother's death. But tonight it had not yet risen, and she felt like she still had time.
Turning, she padded across the wooden floor to her wardrobe, shedding her night clothes as she went. Reaching past her dresses and robes into the very back she pulled out her mother's cloak. Somehow she had managed to bring it with her, although her uncle would've gotten rid of it if he'd known. But when he'd fled with her, afraid of losing his niece to the witch hunters like he'd lost his sister, he had not paid sufficient attention to what she'd packed in her own bag.
She shook her head as she threw the dark, nearly black, blue cloak over her shoulders and strode back to the wide open window. Her mother had been a priestess, her father was neither a carpenter nor a tramp, and
she
was no longer a child.
She stared thoughtfully at where she knew the moon would rise for a moment before she climbed nimbly out the window. She took but a moment to adjust the cloak to conceal her entirely before striding off into the forest with nary a backwards glance.
As she traversed the forest, her light steps kept her from being noticed, and her tough soles kept her feet from harm.
Just as she worried that she might miss the moonrise she arrived at a meadow, and there at the edge of the forest she allowed her mother's cloak to pool at her feet. She made her way to the center of the meadow and took up a pose that she'd once seen her mother take the one time she'd watched her mother dance. One hand pointed straight up, while the other pointed to where the moon would first appear.
She waited just a few minutes more until the moon arose. Then she let the moon guide her as her body hair melted away and the moonlight gathered in her black hair like little bits of starlight until her hair was like a flowing extension of the moonlight.
Shortly from the edge of the forest emerged a four legged creature with her mother's cloak caught in its teeth, just like a crazed unicorn had done for her mother on that long ago night.
Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered the gossip about a beast tearing apart livestock, and how a farmer had disappeared the night before. She knew that even one misstep would spell her death so she dared not falter.
As it approached it looked more and more wolf-like until it dropped the surprisingly undamaged cloak and reared back onto his feet showing off a physique that was definitely more like a man's.
She gave the hulking wolfman a graceful mockery of a courtly bow, which he easily returned, and then they both got swept up into the moon's dance. Her movements were graceful and wild whereas his started off jerky and disjointed, and yet still somehow nimble.
As he fell more and more in-step with her, her muscles burned and ached with exertion. They danced until the moon reached its zenith. Then, of their own accord, her arms twined about themselves rising up as she cradled the moon in her hands.
They stood there in a frozen tableau for a few moments, her sweating and trembling with her chest heaving and him seemingly completely unfazed. Then a soft voice whispered in her ear, "Bring my guard back to me."
And just like that the moon's influence pulled back. She could still feel it surrounding her like a parent's warm hug as her arms dropped like a marionette with its strings cut, but it no longer directed her actions.
