BOND OF THE FULLMOON

Lily

The moon tonight was unusually radiant, its silver glow bathing everything in an ethereal light. The air felt crisp and clean, filling my lungs with a sense of renewal as I breathed deeply. Today marked my eighteenth birthday, and for reasons I couldn’t explain, stepping out of the cottage felt like shedding an old skin. I was no longer a child. Something about the night called to me, urging me to step into the world beyond my little home.

As I closed the cottage door behind me, the urge for freedom blossomed in my chest. I craved the cool, quiet embrace of the woods, the way the trees swayed as if whispering secrets, the earthy scent of moss and fallen leaves. The woods had always been my sanctuary, and tonight, under the glowing moonlight, they seemed more inviting than ever.

Clutching the little basket in my arms, I hummed a tune as I trotted down the narrow path leading deeper into the forest. I planned to fetch a few special herbs to brew tea with for my grandmother. The melody was one my grandmother often sang, a soothing, wordless song that seemed to blend with the rustling leaves and the chirping of distant crickets.

The trees around me appeared alive as I filled the basket with the special herbs. Their branches sway in rhythm with the wind. The cool breeze danced through my hair, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth. I couldn’t help but smile, my heart swelling with a strange, newfound sense of freedom. It felt as though even the woods were celebrating my birthday, their leaves fluttering and spiraling down like confetti in the soft glow of the moon.

But then, a sound cut through the serene night air - low, guttural, and not far from where I stood.

I froze mid-step, my breath catching in my throat as my grandmother’s words echoed in my mind, a stark warning that tightened my grip on the basket.

“Don’t wander around in the woods at night, especially during the Fullmoon. It may be dangerous.”

The words rang louder in my head as my eyes darted around, straining to see through the shadows that the moonlight didn’t reach.

Something was out there.

I began to retrace my steps, my heart pounding in my chest as fear clawed at me. The woods, once a place of comfort, now felt eerie, every sound magnified in the stillness of the night. But just as I turned, another sound came—this time louder, like a heavy thud echoing through the trees.

A chill ran down my spine, and I shivered despite the warmth of the night. Summoning what little courage I had, I turned toward the sound, my eyes scanning the shadows. That’s when I saw him - a man, hunched over and clutching his chest, his movements jerky and pained. The silver moonlight bathed him in a pale glow, revealing his torn shirt and the dark stain of blood seeping through the fabric.

Instead of running, my feet seemed glued to the ground. I stood frozen, unable to look away as he stumbled forward, his body wracked with pain. He looked like he was barely holding himself together, each step labored, his breaths ragged.

Before I realized it, my fear gave way to concern, and I found myself moving closer to him, my steps hesitant but steady. What was I doing? I should have run. My grandmother’s warnings screamed in my mind, but something about him, about the way he struggled, pulled me toward him.

As I stepped closer, he stiffened, his head snapping in my direction. His movements were sharp, almost animalistic.

“Who’s there?” he growled, his voice a deep, guttural rasp that sent shivers through me. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, wild and full of pain.

My throat felt dry, but I managed to respond, my voice shaky. “Are you… are you alright? Do you need help?”

He groaned, his body swaying as he tried to push himself upright. His legs buckled, and he stumbled, his hand pressing against a nearby tree for support.

“Leave!” he howled, his voice echoing through the woods. “Run and stay away!”

But I didn’t move. Despite the command in his voice, something rooted me to the spot. His pain was so imaginable, so raw, that I couldn’t turn my back on him.

“You’re hurt,” I said, taking another cautious step toward him. “Please, let me help you.”

His head jerked toward me again, and this time, a low growl rumbled from his chest. “You don’t understand,” he rasped, his voice trembling with anguish. “It’s not safe… for you.”

He staggered, falling to his knees, his body trembling violently. The sight of him crumpled like that ignited a mix of fear and determination in me. I couldn’t just leave him here to die.

Gathering my courage, I stepped closer, my instincts screaming at me to turn back while my heart pushed me forward. “I can’t leave you like this,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the wind.

I grabbed a handful of the herbs in my basket, my fingers trembling as I pressed them together to release their soothing scent. The cool, fragrant oils seeped into my hands, calming me just enough to focus. I knelt beside him cautiously, my heart racing with both fear and determination.

As I reached my hands closer to his face, the unexpected happened—a faint, warm glow emanated from my palms. The light shimmered softly, like the glow of fireflies under the moonlight. I froze, startled by the phenomenon.

“What… what’s that?” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible over the rush of my own heartbeat. The glow faded as quickly as it appeared, leaving me shaken but unwilling to stop.

This man was in deep pain, and I couldn’t waste another second pondering the mystery. My priority was helping him. With steadying breaths, I brought the crushed herbs to his face, close enough for him to inhale. The sharp, earthy aroma filled the air around us.

At first, he recoiled slightly, his body tensing as if anticipating harm, but then his breathing began to even out. A look of relief washed over his features as he inhaled deeply, his shoulders relaxing, though his body still quivered from whatever agony he was enduring. Slowly, he inhaled again and lowered himself onto the ground, his head tilting back as he tried to catch his breath.

His eyes, now less clouded by pain, glanced up at me. There was something fierce and untamed about them, a depth that both intrigued and unnerved me.

“You shouldn’t be here at this time,” he muttered, his voice rough but laced with concern. “It’s dangerous.”

I sat back on my heels, clutching the now-crumpled herbs in my hands. “I couldn’t just leave you,” I replied softly. “You needed help.”

He shook his head weakly, his dark hair falling into his face. “You don’t understand,” he rasped. “The woods… under the Fullmoon… it’s not safe.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I refused to abandon him now. “Then it’s good I found you,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. “What happened to you? Who did this?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze shifted to the trees, as if expecting something or someone—to emerge from the shadows. “You need to go,” he said finally, his tone urgent despite his weakened state.

I hesitated, torn between heeding his warning and the overwhelming instinct to stay and help. “I’m not leaving you like this,” I said firmly, my voice steady despite the fear bubbling beneath the surface.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he groaned as he tried to sit up. “You don’t know what you’ve just gotten yourself into,” he murmured, almost to himself.