I’m having a bit of a to-do list crisis. This is what comes from being gone for about half of September. And now September is over, and maybe I can finally get back to work. Until I get my head back on straight, here’s a post to tide you over. So during all the hullabaloo over various Moon Things over the weekend, a bunch of werewolf-related stuff came up on Facebook, which lead to me writing and posting this:
Kitty and the Full-Super-Bloodmoon Thing
“So what are we expecting to happen?” Ben asked.
“Same as any other full moon. . .but more so,” I said. “I’m kind of hoping we all spontaneously break into a synchronized lip-synch of ‘Day-O.'”
Even Shaun gave me an annoyed look from across the clearing. So I guess that only sounded like fun to me.
We were at our spot in the national forest up in the mountains, all of us in the pack, waiting. The place — a clearing by an outcrop of granite, surrounded by miles of pines, usually felt like home. Any other full moon night the pack would gather, and as dark fell we’d shed our clothes. As the moon rose our skin would sprout fur, our bones break and stretch, our four-legged selves taking control. We’d run, we’d hunt — wolves, summoned by the full moon.
This night, however, we nervously waited and watched the sky.
“Supermoon,” Ben said, arms crossed, squinting through the trees. The moon — full, silver — was just starting to rise. “So we should all get x-ray vision or be able to fly or something.”
“Listen to you,” I said. “Like turning into a wolf every four weeks isn’t enough of a superpower.”
He frowned, clearly dissatisfied. “You’re right. Not enough superpower.”
“Well, next time get bit by a radioactive spider instead of a werewolf.”
He gave me this look like he couldn’t tell if I was joking.
People kept asking me: supermoon. Blood moon. Did anything change? Was it all different? I didn’t know why everyone was worked up. The supermoon happened when the moon’s orbit brought it closest to earth — a pretty regular occurrence. The lunar eclipse happened whenever the Earth came between the sun and moon — another pretty regular occurrence. Even both together happened every thirty years or so. I had to be honest — the philosophical underpinnings of the whole thing weren’t at the forefront of my mind when my fingers were sprouting claws and my mouth stretching to fit a predator’s set of teeth.
Which they were about to do right now. My skin itched. I flexed my fingers. Elsewhere in the clearing, others of the pack were stripping down while their backs arched and a sheen of fur grew down along their skin. Ben and I watched our pack, and a shadow took a crescent bite out of one side of the moon.
“It’s time,” he murmured.
I felt it, too. The animal inside of me pressing at the bars of her cage, waiting to break free.
But there was something else. Something. . .kind of tingly. Weirdly, I felt more relaxed, when this time during a full moon I ought to be feeling more than tense, like my body was ripping apart.
Then I saw Becky in the shape of her sandy-colored wolf charge across the clearing, stumble, and roll over on her back, paws batting at the air, tongue hanging out the corner of her mouth. Shaun’s dusky wolf sat nearby, teeth bared, face pointed upward — almost like he was laughing.
Ben watched, squinting. “Does that look kinda weird to you?” He spoke slowly–his words were almost slurred. I couldn’t really focus on what he was saying. Claws sprouted from my fingers. I was Changing. But the whole thing felt kinda. . .blurry.
I looked at Ben, and both of us starting laughing. The laughs turned into lupine whines.
“I think we’re drunk,” I managed to gasp out.
“So. Less Blood Moon and more ‘nice dry, merlot moon’?” Ben said, and it was the last thing he said, because his body slipped and the Change washed over him. His wolf emerged — teeth bared, laughing.
I was about to follow. And you know what? That was all right.