January 31, 2018

“You know, it’s exhausting,” Ben said, and took a long draw on his bottle of beer. “It’s like every other month there’s this new ‘Once every hundred years’ super-special moon-related event we’re supposed to be paying attention to. How do we know? How do we really know if it’s important? Are we really letting Facebook decide this stuff for us?”

We were naked, sitting next to each other, backs propped up against rock, part of a pile of boulders slumped up on the hillside. He offered the bottle. I took a drink and handed it back. The beer wasn’t cold anymore, but it was still bubbly and sent calm through my limbs as it went down.

“Yeah,” I said. “Before social media no one really paid attention to this stuff. But it’s not like it isn’t *interesting.*”

“Interesting, sure, but is it *relevant*?”

Across the clearing a wolf howled. The sky wasn’t full dark yet but had that rich deep blue edging to twilight. Soon, the fat full moon would rise. Our werewolf pack had gathered, like we did every month — or every now and then, on a blue moon, twice a month. A few of us had already turned, and the wolves yipped and played. Others were still in human form, pacing, resisting the call of their other selves demanding to burst free.

All of us were waiting to see what it meant, this super blood moon thing or whatever the hell they were calling it. What supernatural forces we’d be subjected to, out of our control and knowledge. Ben was right, it really was exhausting.

He continued. “What if Earth had five moons, hm? What if we were on, like, Jupiter, with thirty moons? Then what would happen? What would it be like being a werewolf on Jupiter?”

“We’d be crushed under the massive pressure of its atmosphere and tremendous gravitational forces,” I answered.

“Oh. Yeah. I suppose so. So everyone who’s ever talked about a cure for lycanthropy–has anyone suggested just blowing up the moon?”

I looked at him, his scruffy brown hair and his scrunched-up, thoughtful expression. He was awfully cute.

“No, honey, I don’t think they have.”

We were waiting for something–something else, apart from the usual full-moon madness to happen. A few more of us shape shifted. The clearing had more wolves than people now. Another howl burst out.

“Are you really worried?” I said, turning so I was curled up next to him. Ben set down the bottle and put his arms around me.

“I’m always worried.”

Yeah. Couple of werewolves in this crazy world? A lot to worry about.

I said, “Maybe. . .what if. . .just this once. . .we didn’t worry about it?”

An oversized wolf raced up to us, yipped eagerly, and darted away again. The moon was rising. It was time to go.

Ben bent his forehead to mine. “You know what? That’s so crazy it just might work.”

And then we all howled at the moon, the inconstant moon, together.




  1. David Hack Says:

    Thank You Carrie, that was great. And I’m sure soon someone will come up with a new one, like this month we will experience our first super new moon in 100+ years.

    Thanks again. It’s nice to be reminded that our favorite alpha pair is still out there.
    Carrie Vaughn: Science Fictions most generous author.

  2. Jazzlet Says:

    Thank you Carrie!

  3. Kitty and Ben are my OTP 🙂 This was lovely!

  4. carriev Says:

    Thanks for reading!

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