The Moon's Will [On-Going]

They were called The Moon Children because the moon called to them. It urged their very being to accept and allow the moon to be apart of them as much as they were apart of it.

Only seven.

The moon children were rare and scattered all over the globe. The energy of the moon tugging at their souls every night to stare up at it; some even felt the desire to howl up to it as so many wolves have.

On one moon eclipse, all seven of them loose control over their bodies as they weave through trees, buildings, people to get to the water.

And then? They jump.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"They're wolves," I whispered.

A rumbling growl vibrated from deep within the wolf's throat. He fisted the wolf's furry cheeks and kissed the tip of its nose. The wolf pressed it's cold, wet nose against the back of my hand. It's nose slid down the length of my fingers, leaving a wet trail as it moved to sniff his messy curls. Soft rumbles vibrated the wolfs chest.

He whispered sweetly to the wolf in a language I couldn't understand. The weight of the wolf's stare began to take a toll on my impassive up front. The wolf huffed, blowing hot breath into my face causing my eyes to automatically squeeze shut. The smell of the wolf's breath, oddly, reminded me of my grandmother. She always smelled like leaves with a mixture of bark.

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