The moon remembers

Rhydian Vale hated history homework. He was supposed to do three pages of harvest laws for Raventon the words would not come out and make any sense. The wind pounded the shutters outside, but he hardly heard it. His father had given him a rare scolding earlier that evening. “Rhydian, you need to listen to me,” Kaelen said, quietly but sternly. “Lock all doors. Bolt every window. Stay inside. Don’t leave the home, whatever you hear. And for God’s sake don’t look at the moon. Tonight… is dangerous.” Rhydian rolled his eyes. “It’s just a full moon, Dad. I’ve seen plenty of those.” Kaelen’s expression didn’t change. “Not tonight. Nothing touches you tonight. As long as you listen to what I tell you, you’re going to be all right. Don’t test me.” Rhydian grumbled beneath his breath but did as he was told. He locked and barred all the doors, and shut all the windows. But … he couldn’t seem to shake the odd urge he had to the moonlight beyond. However, peculiar things have always happened around Rhydian … even before tonight. Some nights, he’d wake up in mid-dark, with the sensation that he was being watched, by someone, or something. When he would blink, the shadows in his room seemed to move a little. Animals in the village would stare at him longer than they ought, craning their heads as though they read his mind. And he would always appear to hear what other people did not--the slightest drip of water, the faintest puff of wind in the trees, the smallest footstep in the hall when the house was ostensibly deserted. His father would brush it off whenever he questioned him about these things. You are imagining it, Kaelen said, in that steady, monotonous voice that could not be disputed. At other times he would shake his head and murmur how Rhydian was too young. And yet there were other, odder times. As on the occasion of which Kaelen had awakened him in the midst of a night tempest, and carried him out of bed to conceal himself in the cellar. “Lock all doors. Stay low. Hush! hush! he said, terse and solemn, declining to respond. Or when he had had Rhydian put on thick gloves and boots and gone out in the woods with her, and had said something about not making a trail. And there were nights, when Kaelen would walk the property, in odd hours, with drawn sword and search the woods, even when all appeared well. Why his father was so... overprotective Rhydian had never known. This was humiliating at times, particularly when his friends wanted to know why he could not stay up late or why his father was so obsessed with locked doors and silent nights. He had believed nothing more than paranoia--or a peculiar sort of caution--but now, and now, all of it somehow made horrible sense. Then the scream came. Not a human scream--not precisely--but a scream of pain, fear, and other things, other than natural things. It came from downstairs. The pen of Rhydian dropped out of his fingers. His stomach twisted. “Dad?” he called, panic creeping in. The following instant he could be seen flying down the stairs. His father stood in the dark of the hall, the front door thrown open, banged against the wall, and there was his father. Kaelen had been fighting something that caused Rhydian to choke. It looked like a wolf... at first. But it wasn’t a wolf. It was more erect, cowering, with nearly human limbs, but shaggy with black hair. It had a narrow head and an intelligent expression. Its nails scratching the floorboards, its movements made it move, at one time walking on four feet, at other times standing erectly, as though it could choose which direction it might like to take at all times. It wasn’t just attacking. It was thinking. Planning. Watching. Kaelen swung his sword, and hit the creature. It twisted round like it had foreseen the action, with a low, intelligent growl which sent a chill along Rhydian. “Rhydian! Get back!” Kaelen screamed, and held the creature in check. The yellow eyes of the wolf flicked to Rhydian but for a moment, and there was something in the glance that made his chest compress--as though it knew him, or knew better than he did. Rhydian froze. His heart pounded in his ears. The animal wound round and round and crouched unnaturally. It was fast, too fast. Swifter than any wolf that ever he saw. Then suddenly he felt the heat flowing through his chest. There was pains in the muscles, extensions in the bones, exaltations in the senses. His eyes grew clear, his teeth extended, and he grew hairy on the skin of his body. His legs and hands became reshaped, and claws grew where there were fingers and toes. Rhydian’s mind spun. Frenzy and confusion raved within him. He made an attempt to call out but no words came. He could hear and smell and see--feel--all at once. The world was more clear, brassy, all upsetting. Instinct took over. He maneuvered, counter-charged, hit and managed to send the animal away. It gave a yell of surprise, and then fled, disappearing into the shadows. It was only then that the body of Rhydian relaxed. Gradually the tingling died out, his senses were neutralized, his bones and muscles were back to their usual size. He fell on the ground gasping. He looked down and froze. His shirt and trousers were ripped, and ragged here and there. Blood had burst out on his arms, and a purple smear spread over his left eye. He put his hand on his chest. He looked to his father, and trembled. “Dad... I... I turned... into a... a wolf! That was me... I... I...” Kaelen caught him and clung to him with a grip that had not been used since he was a boy. Worried and anxious struggled in his eyes. “I know... I know. But you disobeyed me. I told you to stay inside. I told you to ignore the moon. Do you know what might have occurred? Rhydian shook his head, not yet having got his breath back. “But... the wolf didn’t fight me! Why?” Kaelen’s jaw tightened. He turned his head aside, and faintly looked back at his son. “I... I’ll explain later. For now, you need to rest. Clean up. You are more than I thought... than I ever imagined. And that’s good and dangerous, too. Rhydian leaned back and looked at his hands, which were still shaky. His heart was beating like a throb, his head was turning. All that he had believed he was to know of himself... of his life.... was all at once falsely conceived. Tonight something within him had been roused. Something strong, something savage. And he was not aware of what it was. He was sure, however, that things would never be the same in his life