THE FULL MOON
The full moon arrived on a Tuesday, and the pack felt it for days before it came.
I felt it differently than I expected. Not the restless, feral agitation older wolves described, but something quieter and deeper. A sharpening. As if the world had gained definition, every sound and texture arriving with unsettling clarity. I had been getting used to heightened senses since my awakening, but this was different,too intense, almost invasive.
By morning of the full moon, I stood in the kitchen holding my coffee and found myself fixated on the countertop. The grain of the wood. The temperature of ceramic against my palm. The sound of the house settling into itself.
“You’re doing it again,” Mia said.
“It’s the countertop,” I replied.
“We do have a very nice countertop,” she sa
