The girl who chased the moon

Chapter 2

I could not believe my eyes. It had been a wolf. 

A wolf had been stood in our orchard, and it looked me directly in the eyes. Those eyes...like amber, it was like looking at an open flame. I did not know what the creature was exactly, it had been difficult to tell. I hastily left the kitchen, pacing anxiously up and down the hall, trying to work out what the hell it was. 

A number of options flashed through my mind. 

Demon. Shape-shifter. Warlock. Witch. Werewolf. 

The last one made me shudder, it would be a werewolf with my luck. The thing was, the other creatures, somewhat easier to slay or even reason with, but werewolves, no chance. By nature, werewolves were tempermental to say the least. 

Werewolves were not how they were described in legends, just as vampires weren't really like they were described in romance novels. Werewolves were not handsome, tragic heroes who were cursed to change into wolf every full moon. No, werewolves could turn whenever they felt like, as long as the sun had set. Young wolves felt the urge to turn on full moons, but older werewolves could control this. Werewolves were also volatile, hot-headed and quite frankly, dangerous. All supernatural creatures are dangerous, but werewolves were unpredictable, they were the bipolar creatures of the night. There mood could change in an instant. 

Slayers did not usually associate with werewolves, they were not the hunted as vampires were, but they were beneath us. All other creatures were, except angels. Perhaps that was why other creatures hated us, in a way, we were the stiff-lipped prudes of the supernatural world. 

I looked at the clock, it's incessant ticking was beginning to irritate me, in fact, I wanted to rip it from the wall and smash it into little pieces. My breathing was uneven and ragged, my fists were clenched and my vision was red. I had two options, lie down and cry like a weak, pathetic damsel, or, go and kill something. I chose option two. 

Quickly I ran up the stairs and changed out my night dress into a blue, muslin shift dress. Anticipating the cold, I buttoned up a jacket, it was mismatch of clothes, and my hair was hanging loose in a plait, I pulled it out, letting the curls cascade around my face like a mahogany waterfall. 

Picking up my stake and katiana, I left the house, the door framing quivering as I slammed the door. I gave a satisfied smirk before darting into the darkness, air filling my lungs as they pressed against my heaving chest whilst my heart pounded like a relentless hammering. 

Eventually, I made it into the slums, and I knew what I wanted. Blood. I wanted to watch the life drain from the eyes of my enemy as they turned to ash in my hands. I wanted to listen as they breathed their last. I wanted death. 

*****

When I woke up the next morning, the sun was shining through my open drapes brightly. I squinted against it but quickly my eyes adjusted, the sun no longer burned my skin, I had managed to re-adjust to a normal time table again after a few weeks, and was grateful. I had missed the sun's warmth, the way it's golden rays chased away the shadows. I loved to watch it rise in the morning, just because I could; I was no longer bound to live only at night. 

 Drawing back my sheets, I placed my feet onto the cold floor, closing my eyes and fighting the wave of dizziness as I got up. It was so common in the mornings, I barely noticed anymore. With a deep breath, I got to my feet, pouring some of the water left by the maid into a bowl and washing myself with a cloth. The sharp coolness helped wake me up and I looked into the mirror, I looked like hell.