51
You lurch into the waking world, soaked with sweat, breath caught in your throat. Your apartment is dark, a rising full moon the only source of light coming in through the open window. You stare for a moment, caught up in the splendor of a night of renewal, the moon plump and full with the promise of new tomorrows.
The moon! You've overslept!
Cursing to yourself, you rush to your closet and don the proper attire necessary to go through the change. Baggy pants, elastic waistlines, billowing shirt, all tailored to survive the trauma of its occupant growing in size along with shifting bone structure.
In keeping with the traditions of the packs of old, the Haven pack acknowledges several phases of the lunar cycle, solemn rituals to be attended on each of the full moons. Tonight is the Hunter's Moon, an event of great significance, marked by a gathering in the Haven square, ritual transformation, sharing the gift of water, and the making of wolf-song.
You lay down to catch a few hours' sleep just after noon, but the strange dreams kept you in their clutches for far longer than you realized. Your mother…you haven't dreamed of her in years, barely at all since her illness took her. And that other wolf. What did she call him again? The name seemed familiar, but it fled in the nature of dreams, flittering away from your wakeful thoughts on gossamer wings.
No matter, there will be time for reflection once the ritual is over.
By the time your door bangs shut and you emerge into the empty street, it is too late. The faint sound of wolf-song rides currents of chill air from the direction of the square, and you feel the wolf within struggling to break free and join in the howl. Holding back your feral inclinations for a moment, you cock an ear toward the song's origin.
Something isn't right. You can't quite put a finger on it, but somehow the howling feels less jubilant than expected. No, it's not merely the absence of joy; this is a sound of anger laced with fear.
Fearing the worst, you initiate your change, allowing the sleek arms and legs of your lupine form to carry you forward at twice the speed you could have otherwise attained.
As you grow closer to the ritual site, an odd trembling takes you and you suddenly feel dizzy. Your eyes glaze over, your arms a mass of raised gooseflesh. You shake your head, willing the cobwebs of inaction away. You don't know what's going on, but your packmates might need your help, and you'll be damned if you're going to falter now.
At last the streets give way to the Haven square, and there are the silhouettes of dozens of werewolves, muzzles tipped upward, howling out wolf-song to the Hunter's Moon. None of the wolves acknowledge your presence, and the closer you grow to the ritual site, the more uncomfortable you feel.
That howl, you think to yourself. It's not in praise of the moon at all. It's a hunt! They're calling a blood hunt! But why? For whom? You haven't heard a call like that since the pack joined together to hunt a killer, a lone wolf gone feral. What the hell is going on?
A flurry of movement and shouting to the east pulls the pack's attention, and they turn as one, ignoring your arrival as they focus on a small group of humans dashing away into an alley. You feel yourself go cold as the pack drops to all fours and chases after the humans, baying for blood.
You don't know what happened during the ritual, but you do know that if the pack slaughters a group of humans in a rage, your lives as you know them will be over. You need to do something and quick!
You weave between alleyways and leap over fences, cutting every corner you can in order to keep ahead of the pack, but eventually you have to admit to yourself that the task is simply too great for you to accomplish. Your legs cramp, and as you double over, huffing and puffing for breath, the pack passes your position via the main road, howling as they pursue the fleeing humans.
You follow behind the pack, keeping just enough distance to avoid being seen. The wolves are in a frenzy, howling as they speed on all fours in pursuit of their human quarry. Block after block the pack runs, and you briefly wonder how the humans have stayed ahead for this long as you begin to flag behind. Soon you can run no farther, and you stop for a moment to take a breath just as the wolves ahead of you howl in triumph.
They've caught the humans! I need to keep moving!