The Night The Moon Bled.
1231 Words
Episode 4 – The Night the Moon Bled
The forest was too quiet.
Shadow crouched low among the pines, breath clouding in the cold night air. The metallic taste of blood still lingered in his mouth from the last hunt, but it wasn’t deer’s blood — it was human. His claws flexed against the frozen earth as guilt and hunger fought inside him.
He had sworn he wouldn’t kill again, not after what happened in Black Hollow three nights ago. Not after the villagers found the bodies. Not after the way they looked at him, torches blazing, voices chanting monster.
But tonight, the darkness was different.
He could feel it crawling over his skin, a prickling weight that wasn’t just the pull of the moon. The sky above wasn’t just black — it was bleeding, clouds glowing red like veins lit from within.
The Pack’s howl had called him here.
Shadow wasn’t sure if he still belonged to them — the Alpha had exiled him after the m******e. But the call wasn’t one he could ignore. It was primal, ancient, vibrating in his bones.
He rose, sniffing the air.
A scent reached him.
Not wolf. Not deer.
Something wrong.
---
The clearing was empty when he arrived, but the snow told a story. Large pawprints. A circle of ash. Something had burned here, something ritualistic.
And then he saw it.
A figure stood at the edge of the trees.
She was tall, pale, her hair black as midnight, and her eyes reflected the moon like a wolf’s. She didn’t move as Shadow approached.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled, voice half-human, half-beast.
“You came,” she said simply. Her voice was like smoke, soft but heavy. “That means you still feel it.”
“Feel what?”
“The pull of the darkness. The hunger. The curse.”
Shadow’s hackles rose. “Who are you?”
She stepped closer, the snow crunching beneath her bare feet. “My name is Nyra. I’m the one who called you.”
The name made something inside him shiver. Old stories whispered in the Pack’s den — of Nyra, the Moon Witch, who had cursed the first of their kind to hunt under silver light.
“That’s impossible,” Shadow said, backing away. “You’re just a story.”
Nyra smiled. It was not a comforting smile. “So are you, to most of the world. But here we are.”
She tilted her head toward the circle of ash. “The Alpha is dead.”
The words hit Shadow like a blow.
“No.”
“Ripped apart under the bleeding moon. By something that was not wolf, not man.”
Shadow’s mind raced. The Alpha was the strongest of them, the one who had kept the Pack together. If he was dead, the others would fight for control. Blood would run before dawn.
Nyra watched him silently, as if waiting for him to speak.
“What do you want from me?” Shadow snarled.
“To survive,” she said simply. “And to make sure your kind survives. You were born under the last blood moon, Shadow. You’re the only one strong enough to stop what’s coming.”
Shadow’s claws dug into the snow. He didn’t want this. He wanted to disappear, to stop feeling the pull of the hunt, to stop tasting blood in his dreams.
But the forest around them trembled.
A howl shattered the night — not a wolf’s howl. Lower, deeper, wet with something wrong.
Shadow’s body reacted before his mind did. He turned, scanning the tree line.
Nyra’s voice cut through the wind. “It’s here.”
---
The thing that stepped into the clearing was almost wolf-shaped — but its limbs were too long, its skin stretched too tight, and its mouth hung open in a permanent snarl, dripping black saliva that hissed when it hit the snow.
Shadow’s chest rumbled with a growl.
“Not one of mine,” Nyra said, her tone almost curious. “This is what killed your Alpha.”
The creature lunged.
Shadow met it halfway, his body shifting without thought, bones snapping, fur bursting through skin as he gave himself to the wolf.
The impact threw them both into the snow, snarling and slashing. The creature’s claws sliced through Shadow’s shoulder, burning like acid. Shadow bit down on its neck, tasting rot.
It howled, a sound that made the trees groan and the sky shudder.
Nyra didn’t move, only watched, her black hair whipping in the wind.
Shadow drove the creature back, muscles straining, until with one final surge he tore its throat open. The snow steamed as black blood poured out.
He stood over it, chest heaving, fur bristling.
And then the body twitched.
Its flesh rippled, splitting open as something else crawled out of it — a shadow with teeth.
Shadow staggered back. His wolf instincts screamed at him to run.
Nyra finally moved, stepping forward and slamming her hand to the ground.
Symbols flared to life in the snow — a glowing circle of moonlight.
The shadow creature hissed, recoiling as if struck.
“Get in the circle!” Nyra shouted.
Shadow hesitated — trusting witches had never been part of his nature.
But the creature lunged again, and instinct chose for him. He leapt into the circle, the light searing his fur but holding him safe.
The shadow slammed against the invisible barrier, shrieking.
Nyra’s voice rose, chanting words older than the forest. The light grew brighter, until the creature screamed one final time and exploded into black mist.
Silence.
Shadow dropped to his knees, panting, human again. His body was a map of bleeding cuts, but he ignored them.
“What was that?” he demanded.
Nyra knelt beside the smoldering remains. “Something older than wolves. Something that wants to swallow the moon.”
She looked up at him, eyes glowing faintly silver. “This was just one. There will be more.”
Shadow’s stomach twisted.
“You mean there’s a pack of them.”
Nyra nodded. “And they are hunting yours. Tonight was the first blood moon. There will be three more before the moon dies. If that happens…” She didn’t finish.
Shadow stared at the ash, his claws digging into the frozen ground.
He didn’t want this fight — but maybe he had no choice.
The darkness was coming, whether he ran or not.
Nyra touched his shoulder. “You are not alone, Shadow. Not if you choose not to be.”
He met her gaze, and for the first time since his exile, he felt something stir in him that wasn’t just hunger or rage.
A reason.
A purpose.
The night wind howled through the trees. Somewhere far away, another inhuman scream echoed.
Shadow stood. His wounds ached, but his resolve felt sharper than his claws.
“If this is a war,” he said, “then I need my pack.”
Nyra smiled again — not kindly, but with approval.
“Then call them,” she whispered.
And under the bleeding moon, Shadow threw back his head and howled — not just a warning, but a summons.
The sound rolled across the forest, across the mountains, carrying with it a promise:
The Pack would rise.
And the darkness would learn to fear the wolves.
- Writer
