By Moonlight

For Graeme Reynolds
Who made an old monster scary again

Cassy walked silently through the village, avoiding the patches of snow that might crunch beneath her boots. The windows were shuttered, and it was unlikely the slightest sound could be heard, but Cassy still didn’t want to run even the small risk that a villager might mistake her footfalls for the tread of the beast and fling open a door, ready to bludgeon her to death.

But all the doors stayed closed and she made it to the other side of the village without incident. She glanced behind her, feeling eyes on her, hoping they were ones she expected and that she hadn’t made a terrible mistake. The only movement in the village was from the smoke that curled out of the chimneys. Cassy adjusted the strap across her shoulder, tucking her burden further beneath her father’s cloak, then walked into the woods.

Beneath the trees, it was impossible to avoid walking through snow. The weak winter sun couldn’t penetrate the thick branches above, even when they were devoid of their summer foliage. Cassy glanced left and right as she went, expecting to see moving shadows as forest creatures either fled from her or stalked towards her. But the forest was as still as the village.

She came to the clearing and, in relief, let out a deep breath which misted before her face. It was brighter here than it was beneath the trees, but the moon was still hidden behind clouds. Her gaze swept the clearing, to make sure she was alone, then she headed towards a pair of trees that had a small gap between them - just wide enough for a slim girl to slip through, but too narrow for anything larger, such as a werewolf, to follow.

Standing with her back against the trees, Cassy stared across the clearing. She knew the creature wouldn’t come from behind her. It would come from the village.

It could only have been ten minutes before she heard the crunch of boots on snow. A young man came into the clearing. He was hunched over and cautious, and for a terrible moment, Cassy thought she’d been wrong and it wasn’t Hebden after all. But then he stepped out of the shadows, still looking around, and she saw it was indeed him. Relief washed through her, even as the tang of fear soured her tongue.

He peered around the clearing until, finally, his gaze fell on her. He grinned and strode over. ‘There you are! I couldn’t see you with that cloak on. It’s so grey it looks like snow.’

‘It’s my father’s. Mine doesn’t fit any more.’

His eyes slipped down to her chest and he murmured, ‘I bet it doesn’t.’ He started, as if shocked by his own words. He grinned sheepishly and said, ‘So, where are we going to do this? I’d have preferred one of Mason’s empty barns, but you knew I was never going to say no, even if you’d suggested doing it on the village green.’

Cassy smiled and tugged a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Hardly.’ She glanced upwards. The clouds were moving quickly across the sky but the moon was still hidden.

Hebden leaned against the tree next to her. ‘So, shall we-?’

‘Have you brought something for us to lie on?’ she asked, playing for time.

His mouth opened, then closed. ‘Erm, my cloak? Will that do?’ She nodded and he took it off, making a show of lying it on the ground.

‘No, over there,’ she said, pointing.

He bowed. ‘Whatever my lady commands.’

As he moved his cloak, she glanced upwards. She judged it would only be a matter of moments before the moon was exposed.

Hebden stood up and gestured proudly to his cloak, as if it was some grand, gilded bed. ‘Awaiting your pleasure, my lady.’

Cassy took a step closer, but not too close. ‘It was very brave of you to come, what with the beast and all.’

He shushed her and stared around wide-eyed. ‘Don’t name it. You’ll call it down on us.’

‘Do the men know who it is yet?’

‘Who? You mean what, surely.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Everyone knows it’s a werewolf. The question is: who is it when it’s not a wolf?’

He shrugged. ‘Who knows? Maybe they don’t even know themselves that they’re a monster.’

She smiled sadly. ‘No, perhaps not.’

He scowled. ‘Look, it’s cold and god knows I want to do this, but if you’re going to yap like a-‘

Pure moonlight flooded the clearing and Hebden spasmed, crying out in pain. He fell to his knees, his breathing ragged. She watched as his shirt rippled. It normally hung from his skinny body, but now it bulged and surged as new muscle took form beneath it. The smooth black hair on his head shrank into his skull, while coarse brown hair prickled out in its place. His fingers warped as ragged nails extended from them.

He was panting as he raised his head, his blue eyes now bridging a lengthening snout. His hairy gums pulled back; Cassy thought he was going to speak, and perhaps he tried to, but all that came out was a wet gurgling growl.

The sound set gooseflesh across Cassy’s skin. For a moment, she was frozen by fear, but then Hebden’s muscles bunched as he prepared to rise, and she knew she had to strike now. She flung back the cloak and brought out her grandfather’s axe. It slid easily out of its harness and she swung it round and up, just as she’d practised so many times - only this time she was aiming not for logs, but for flesh. The axe buried itself in the back of Hebden’s neck and he howled, slumping forward. The axe was torn from her grasp and she lunged for it. Panic shot through her. She’d imagined that the head would come off in one swift blow. She gripped the shaft and tugged it free on the second try. She lifted the axe again, aiming for the same cut, but the werewolf moved and the weapon glanced off its shoulder, leaving a deep gash.

Driven by terror, Cassy no longer aimed. She brought the axe down again and again as fast and as hard as she could. Blood and gore rained around her. At some point, the creature stopped moving, but she didn’t stop chopping until her arms were too weak to lift the axe any more.

She stumbled away from the mangled flesh that used to be the blacksmith’s son. Brown fur clung to lumps of meat and she was glad to see the severed head had a snout rather than a face she knew.

While Cassy’s aching arms could not lift the axe, she wouldn’t leave it behind so she dragged it along beside her as she headed home. She made no effort to mask her entry into the village, and the sound of the axe scraping along the floor drew several to open their doors and peer out.

The first to approach her was the Sauvin, the village headsman, although she could see others clustering behind him. He stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. ‘What have you done?’ He looked her up and down with such horror that she looked down at herself for the first time. She saw that her father’s cloak was no long grey, but red and dripping.

She looked up and met Sauvin’s stare for a moment before she pushed passed him, saying, ‘I have down what you could not.’

By Moonlight

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