Dawn

13

Dawn

The pastel glided over the page, a thick black line appearing in it's wake.

I wasn't in control of what I was drawing.

It felt like somebody else was holding my hand, guiding it over the paper and creating an image I hadn't yet figured out. This was the second drawing, and after the first time had turned out badly because I had resisted the force to draw, I had decided to just relax and see what would happen.

So that's what I did.

Intrigued by this mystical force making me sketch, I tested it out by looking away. Robotically, my hand still knew what to do. I jogged the book, and shockingly, it didn't even make a difference to the steady black line printed on the page. What if I fell asleep? Would I still be drawing, despite being unconscious? I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes, settling into the comfort of the mattress. Relaxed, I didn't even notice how long I was there, lulled by the sound of the pastel grazing the paper. It was when my hand stopped that my eyelids flew open.

I glanced down at the book on my lap, scanning the picture before me, drinking in the details.

It was a crescent moon, glowing like a huge fiery torch in the centre of a dark sky. Beneath it, dark trees smudged together and cast shadows onto the ground, detailed enough to depict pine needles in the dirt. Then there was a girl, looking bewildered in the middle of the forest clearing, staring at her hand. Her fingers were elongated, and long nails- claws- protruded from the tips. Her palm seemed thicker and fleshier, with patches of hair covering the skin; then there was the light shading focusing singularly on her hand, making it glow as brightly as the massive crescent moon in the sky.

But what struck me most was the sets of eyes looming in the darkness between the trees. A pair of green eyes floated to her right— where her glowing hand was drawn —and a pair of red ones to her left. I had no recollection of picking up a coloured pencil. I didn't use colours in my sketches, it was my only rule. And yet here, before me, was a drawing I, myself, had not instigated, using colours I did not even own. I felt dizzy as fear washed through me, scared at was was happening. Whatever it was, it wasn't natural.

I gasped suddenly when I noticed something just beneath the drawing.

Words, written in pure white, whiter than the professional sketch paper in my pad.

The power lies within you, Luna.

And that was when I called Hayden.

Hayden

I was in my room, examining the ivory tooth absentmindedly as I lay on my bed, the small piece between my thumb and forefinger. What was it about Dawn that turned my world upside-down? She was completely normal— well, normal l to everybody else. Obviously I didn't feel that way: to me, she was the most extraordinary creature to ever walk the Earth.

And this was coming from a werewolf.

I felt a buzzing in my pocket, scattering my thoughts; I dug into my jeans, finding the offending item and pulling it out. I pressed answer before I even read the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hayden?" Dawn's voice trickled through the phone, laced with panic. I sat up immediately.

"Dawn, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"...Um, no— I... Could you come over?" She seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"I'm on my way."

I put my phone in my pocket as I dashed down the stairs and out of the front door, using my strength to push my legs so fast that my surroundings were blurred. I could feel my wolf taking over, knowing that his mate was in trouble. He could tell something was wrong immediately.