Their shoes slid across the gravel. “Woah,” Franco held his hand out to stop his best friend, Kian. “Something isn’t right.”
The vendors on Market Street had disappeared leaving their goods unattended.
Kian began to excitedly rummage through the merchandise. “Franco, the silver plate your mother always admires when we come to town. We should take it for her.”
“No!” Franco snatched the plate from Kian’s hand. “What my mother would want is for us to always be good boys.”
Dark clouds rolled back, revealing the moon much brighter than usual having awkwardly overtaken the sun at mid-day’s hour.
A loud scratching noise came from above, filling the air from both sides of the street. Franco pulled his friend into a shop. “Get down,” he said. The two ducked behind a rack draped with colorful garments.
“The Diurnal Wolves, remember the story?” Kian said. “The moon bright in the day, the shops empty, the town’s folk abducted by werewolves.”
“Not abducted, Kian. At the turn of the century when the daytime’s moon is full, our people permanently change into Day Wolves but it’s all make-believe,” Franco tried to calm his young friend.
“The moon,” Kian pointed. “The empty streets, what else could it be?”
The scraping noise ceased as subtle howls filled the air. Franco folded his hands in prayer. Day Wolves suddenly swooped down from the rooftops of the trade huts, latching on to the boys with their claws and fangs.
Two massive wolves strutted ahead; vibrant cultural throws hung from their teeth swinging back and forth with each step they took. A small, bloody arm fell from inside one of the cloths, thick dark hair grew rapidly from it. The boys, now reborn, were presented to the Pack Mother to begin their new journey through life.
Leesa Writes 