Lunar Zenith

Chapter Nine

Lune

The boy slowly stepped out of the wooded shadows, the barrel of his shotgun continuously trained on my head. He didn't look much older than Cassandra with his coiffured hair sitting atop a youthful face. I titled my head, catching a glimpse of the serious look in his eyes and rigid posture. Actually, I take that back. He looked much older. Studying him from afar, I felt a strange air shrouding him. If it were me on my own, I wouldn't have trusted him, but Cassandra seemed to know him. I shifted warily. Still, I had to be cautious.

"What am I doing here?" The boy laughed. "I was going to ask you the same thing, Cassandra. Don't we have dinner together soon?"
"I still have time. Claire and I already picked out an outfit." Cassandra shook her head, fixing the boy with a stern look. "But that's beside the point, Peter."

The corner of Peter's mouth fell slightly, disappointed. "I figured something was up," he said finally. "You weren't acting normal."

"How would you know what's considered normal for me?"

He chuckled. "Seriously, Andra? You, me, and Claire, we were best friends, just the three of us. I know you like the back of my hand." Peter suddenly looked away, kicking at the dirt on the ground. "And also, at that moment leaving the town hall, you didn't find me as lovesome as usual." Peter paused, looking back up at her. "What were you doing in town hall?"

"It was nothing, Peter."

"Just like how your hand was nothing?" He gestured at me with the shotgun. "Did that thing hurt you?"

Cassandra moved to stand in front of me, and in turn, the shotgun. "Lune would never hurt me."

"Lune? It has a name now?"

"Yes. She has a name. Lune is human just like you and I, Peter."

"Bullshit. That thing has been killing off all the livestock one by one, and do you know what will happen when that food supply is gone?" He paused. "It'll come after us."

"No, Peter, this isn't what you think it is. Lune isn't—"

"Why are you defending this monster?"

"She's not a monster," Cassandra said. "She was cursed. She didn't choose to look this way."

"Cursed, huh? If that's so, it must have done something to anger the Gods. Even if it didn't look like a monster, wouldn't it still be one?"

Peter's words struck a clashing chord in my heart. I couldn't remember why I was cursed, no one can, but that was too much of a coincidence, wasn't it? Maybe everyone chose not to remember, and when the children asked, the elders brushed it off as our glorious destiny, but deep down, they would have been writhing with shame. Whole towns weren't simply cursed just to be cursed. We as a people must have done something wrong. Something that would deem us evil. I shrunk closer to the ground. That meant everyone I loved and cared for were monsters. I was a monster.

I turned my gaze on Peter and the hatred etched into his young face. He wanted to kill me—he would kill me. He'd make sure of it. But one misfire... He'd kill Cassandra too. Not intentionally, no, but she'd be dead nonetheless. My presence would be her doom.

I had to get away from her.

I had to run.

Tensing my legs, I readied to flee, but I paused. When? When would be the right moment? If I ran too early, Peter would notice and pull the trigger. Too late, and Cassandra may face the same end. My tail thrashed back and forth.

Wait for the right moment.

"Peter, we could be doing something brilliant here," Cassandra said. "Wolves are beautiful creatures. Graceful, strong, agile. We shouldn't be killing them off. We should—"