Once In A Blue Moon

We stand facing each other in the clearing, nothing around us but the rustle and snap of trees, the fine rain misting on our hair, the sky low with dark clouds.

I can't see anything in the dark, but it's not like the surroundings are invisible. They're too visible. They fill my vision so full, it overflows into heavy nothingness.

So I can't see her, but I can hear her breathing. Hitching in her chest, coughing up her throat. I can feel her breathing through the sound, as if it's my own.

The moon appears from somwhere, some cloud-parting shedding pale light like fog, the clearing sliding into faintest view. She's hugging her damp arms around herself, chest heaving with her breaths. The air smells like the rain.

"Don't leave me," she says, as the moon reflects in her eyes and makes them glow, brilliantly blue. Light that takes my gaze in its arms and locks it tight before I've noticed.

She gasps and chokes out a sound like teeth coming up her throat, and she's doubling over, palms on the mucky ground, splattering her jeans with darkness. Her tank top arches with her back.

I look away. I can't help it.

She leaps forward on sinuous limbs, wrapping her arms around me, enveloping me in the warmth of fur and damp animal scent. I scream when she bites me.

It's not painful, the change, because I black out. It's nothing. And then I'm an animal too, and I love her even more.

But the night has to end, and we discover the horrible truth of it: she's a werewolf; I'm not.

I only got to change once, under that brilliant blue moon.