Cerulean Moon [opening]

The moon was blue when it happened: a deep, brooding navy blue which meant its light was only just noticeable in the dark summer night sky. The forest seemed more alive with an implacable energy, as though the trees could feel it coming. Kalone had watched it all. On all fours he had bounded through the forest, the wind and bushes and brushwood whipping his fur as he raced across paths and pounced over nettles. The warm night air felt good as it ran over him. The breeze gradually picked up as his run went on, causing him to occasionally shiver and the branches to wave, casting dancing shadows over the damp forest floor.
As Kalone approached the old oak tree which stood by a small glade, he caught a scent in the damp forest air. A wonderful, airy fragrance of natural perfume, with a slight tinny, sour quality which told Kalone it was of something humanoid, drifted through the trees. The scent seemed to make the branches laugh and the late blossoms sing. Kalone slowed his pace down to a trot and followed the scent through the shadowy, laughing forest to the clearing by the oak. The area got brighter as he neared, and Kalone realised that there was a glowing light in the clearing’s centre, and that the forest’s singing was not just his imagination: there was a girl singing softly and rhythmically in a tongue he did not recognise.
And he saw the source of the scent. A group of fair-haired girls, probably about Kalone’s age, who seemed to shine a beautiful silvery colour, danced about the clearing in a circle.
Elves.
Kalone gazed in amazement. He had never been lucky enough to have seen elves before. Very rarely they ventured down into the village, preferring to stay in the forests and the mountains up north. Kalone had heard stories before, from men in alehouses who claimed elves had manipulated them into falling in love with them or into buying expensive goods.
Watching their dance, Kalone knew that it was entirely possible for any man to fall in love with such a creature. They were so graceful, so slender, and above all so beautiful. The navy blue moon was reflected in their skin, giving an incredible bluish tint to them and to their pale, thin dresses which floated as they moved.
As Kalone stood and watched, he barely noticed that what had been a light breeze was increasing to almost a gale; leaves were swirling around in tight circles all over the forest in what looked like madness, and the trees creaked and moved in great motions, as though in a relentless fight. But Kalone did notice the low humming sound behind the elfin song. He felt concerned upon hearing it, but because he could smell nothing unusual, he assumed he was safe.
He was wrong. They were not safe. He jumped as a great shaft of light jerked down from the sky like lightning for less than a second. Kalone rushed deeper into the undergrowth. Screams began to penetrate from the elves. Kalone looked upwards to the sky, and he saw it: a silhouette of a great beast, skin practically black in colour, with vast wings of a great span beating the air up and down, sending the gale through the forest and almost blocking out the blue moonlight. Atop the beast Kalone could just about see a figure – perhaps there was more than one – brandishing a thick staff pointed down towards the clearing. It faintly glowed the deep red of dark magick. Panicked, Kalone emerged from the bushes and ran to the old oak, and, knowing it was almost entirely hollow, crawled deep inside.
Another light. More cries. The frightened elves were running in all directions, eyes wide, tears running down occasional cheeks. One elf dived under a tree. Another crawled in between two shrubs. Still the beams of light came down from the evil beast, getting more and more frequent. Suddenly one elf jumped into the tree trunk with Kalone. He shuffled slightly to give her more room to sit, but he needn’t have bothered. She stayed huddled in one corner of the tree, quivering and looking outwards nervously. Each time a new beam of light came down, she flinched and a new tear dropped from her scared, round eyes. Then she put both her palms to the inside of the tree and looked upwards into the tree’s black depths.
“Grandfather Oak, protect me,” she whispered, her voice breaking, and remained gazing upwards silently for at least a few seconds.
She visibly swallowed and stared back out of the crack in the tree’s bark. She started when the final light flashed. Both she and Kalone braced themselves for more, but nothing followed. The forest had died into a dense silence, the moon shining its navy light onto the new stillness. As the elf slowly looked around the clearing, her whole form began to shake even more than before, and she shook her head.
“No...” she whispered. “My sisters...” With those words she broke into a sob. The tears rolled down her cheeks and onto her dress, staining round watermarks on the delicate fabric. Kalone could never stand to see someone so sad. He did not know exactly what had gone on out in the clearing, but he did know that he could no longer smell any other elves, nor could he feel the presence of the dark magick.
He shifted awkwardly inside the tree and licked the elf’s bare foot in comfort, peering up at her. She cried out in shock and stared fearfully at Kalone, her arms at her side and her body frozen.
“Wolf...”
She scurried out of the oak and back into the clearing, glancing around her, unsure what to do. Only the normal gentle forest breeze ran through her hair and her dress. Kalone slowly padded out of the tree too, forcing his tail between his legs in apology. The elf backed away cautiously. With the wolf version of a sigh, Kalone flipped onto his back to expose his belly to her in submission, to show he was no predator. Then he quickly rolled into a normal standing position, and sat like a pet dog, waiting for her to understand that he was a friend.
The elf silently moved over to him and knelt down to his eye level. A smile almost played on her lips.
“Not wolf,” she acknowledged as she looked into Kalone’s grass-green, very human eyes. “Werewolf.”
She stroked his dark, coarse fur, from the top of his head right down his back. Kalone found himself briefly lost in her gentle touch.
“How beautiful,” she sighed, before she again broke down into mournful tears.