Hare Moon

Aim

Warning: the following chapter contains violence and gore. 

Not recommended for dog lovers, but ideal for pug haters (you know who you are).

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Mum hangs up the phone and sighs. "Dad is working late. Some emergency with a shipment not coming in. This is becoming a habit but the overtime pay is good." She shrugs, then puts away one of the plates and begins dishing up the pasta.

"You think he's just got a cute secretary?" 

"Honesty Bun, if that man were cheating on me he'd probably have told me on the phone just now."

The truth in her words makes me laugh. Dad is honest to a fault. Mum is the one who keeps chocolate hidden in the bathroom cabinet, or can look you dead in the eyes while telling you you're not getting a surprise party this year, the ten party-sized packets of crisps are just because she has the munchies.

We eat dinner and have a mother daughter film night. Dad phones again just before bed to tell us he's going to be a little later because he and Joe are driving back from Buttbridge where the shipment had been held up, bringing with them the much anticipated truck load of toilet paper. Even a community of wolf-shifters need to wipe their arses.

As I head down to my room, I try not to think about how creepy the house feels without him here where he belongs. It sends a wave of unease roiling in my gut. Sounds drift down from the hall upstairs, breaking the silence. Mum scolds the pug for stinking up the place and subsequently douses its farts in air freshener. It's reassuring.

Before going to sleep I peer out the window. Steph's black wolf peers back at me. As a female she's often camped out beside my window. Security has been tightened around the town and the guards that used to roam the tree line have now moved in towards the house at night. At first I'd been freaked out, but Sunny assured me it was just a precaution. Then again, optimism is Sunny's religion. It's weird, having no privacy in my own room but I'm glad to see Steph there now. I give her a smile to signal that nothing is wrong and burrow into bed under Milton's coat, feeling better.

The clouds shift and the moonlight filtering in the window disappears but my room glows with the light of my lava lamp. Every time I look at it my heart stutters. Is he looking at his too? Probably not. Milton seems like the early night type. I imagine him curled up peacefully in his bed of pillows, and snuggle into my own special cushion.

I'm almost asleep when the dog starts barking. I can hear its claws scrape along the kitchen floor as it runs in circles around the table then stops to bark at the back door and then races around again. I bolt upright. My heart pounds.

This is ridiculous. I'm overreacting. It's just the stupid dog. This is what it does. So why do I feel this pressure on my chest? My ears strain for anything out of the ordinary. Maybe it's just Dad coming home. There is a noise from outside the window. A deep snarl, cracking twigs and a pained whimper.

My spine comes to life with electricity and I climb out of bed. Softly as I can I pad to the window and climb up. I feel exposed with my face so close to the glass.

Darkness.

The moon filters through the heavy cloud cover for a split second. The shapes outside the window look all wrong. Have the bushes moved? Something wet shines in the grass. Evening dew?

Then the moon is gone and everything is sucked into the void. No sign of the guards, but it is so dark now that someone could be directly in front of the window and I wouldn't know. I shudder.