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To Lawrence:
You're working the fields today. Next to you is your
wife, Annabelle. Looking over at her, you can still remember your
wedding as if it were yesterday, instead of last summer. You count
yourselves lucky, as fortune seems to have smiled on you. The only
thing missing from your life is children, but you're both still young
and you know that you have plenty of time. That thought leads to
darker ones, and your mind returns, unbidden, to Them. The wolf-beasts
that come in the night, killing for pleasure. When the sun goes down,
everyone is afraid to be caught outdoors, for night time is Their
time, and no one can stand against them. All who have tried have died
by their claws, some horribly. No one understands why the werewolves
come when they do, and why they kill, but it's nothing anyone
questions. It is simply a reality that has existed for as long as
anyone in the village can remember; werewolves kill humans like you.
Supressing a shudder, you amend a previous thought: You're still
young, and you hope that you have plenty of time.

To Louisa:
This spring is a special year, because this year you'll be
allowed to marry. You have had your share of suitors, but it didn't
really matter; you knew all along that you wanted Richard, and that he
felt the same. In just a few months, the two of you will be wed and
you can begin raising a family together, like you always wanted.
Setting down the pot you were scrubbing, your mind wanders for a
moment, and before you can recall it, it begins down the dark path you
don't like to tread. You remember Them. You remember their howls and
their snarls, and everyone running to get indoors. When the darkness
closes in the, werewolves come out, and werewolves only do one thing:
they kill humans. Humans like you and Richard. Fear makes you bite
your lip, as it always does when you thoughts turn to the black-furred
monsters that come to eat the members of your village. And then, as it
always does, fear turns to curiousity. Why do they do it? What drives
them to stalk mere humans, to hunt them down and eat them. Do we taste
better than the animals? That can't be it. "Lou!" comes your mother's
voice, scolding. With an embarrased smile, you shake your head and
resume scrubbing. Every now and then, however, your eyes glance toward
the edge of town, and the woods. Somewhere, They are waiting out
there. Will tonight be another night of terror?

To Adam:
It's spring, and with it comes a resurgence of work for
you and your father. You've always enjoyed leatherworking, liked the
feel of the oil and hide. Maybe this year you'll make enough money
that you can pack up and leave. For the last two years, that's all
you've wanted. Every since that night, the night They came in and took
your mother from you, and his wife from your Pa. The dark, evil
creatures that steal into the village after the sun has gone down, to
kill and to feast. The werewolves, their fur as black as a starless
sky, their claws dripping with blood. What is it drives them to kill
defenseless humans? Because really, that's what you are, compared to
them. You can't fight them, and those who try always die. Better to
run, and to hide. Hope they find someone else. But not that night.
That night they found your Ma, and that was what decided it for you.
You can't always hide, and you can never fight. The time comes when
you have to pick up and leave. Maybe this year. But it's spring now,
and spring is the worst time for the men. That's when they steal only
the men from the village. Who knows what they do with them? None of
them have ever been found, dead or alive.

It's another bright morning in the village. People are up with the sun,
for there's plenty of work that needs doing.

It's finally starting to warm up again, which means long days out in the
fields preparing them for planting. The rocks are always the worst
part; it seems that no matter how many you pull out each year, new
ones just keep appearing the following one. But the days are getting
longer and it's warm for what feels like the first time in forever.
From the direction of the village square comes bright music, played
cheerfully by a skilled piper.

Louisa stops scrubbing at a large pot long enough to look up and smile
into the breeze at the sound of the music.

Adam is intent on oiling the saddle in front of him, rubbing the
sweet-scented stuff into the leather with a rag, formerly a childhood
shirt. He listens to the music absently, totally focused on his work.

Lawrence continues digging rocks out of the field, barely even
acknowledging the music at all. He spares a furtive smile for the
woman at his side.

Mera walks over with her arms floured to the elbows and a crude knife in
her hands. She points it at her daughter, "No daydreaming, now, Lou.
We have to finish dinner early, because of the meeting." Two of the
village children run in Adam's view, giggling as they chase each
other. Neither is clothed, but the lack doesn't seem to bother them.
Annabelle pushes her sweaty hair back from her forehead and smiles at
Lawrence. Her thin shirt sticks to her skin from the work both are
doing, along with several dozen others from the village.

Adam watches the kids, for a moment remembering a more innocent time,
then scowls at such idle thoughts, and goes back to work.

Louisa's attention turns back to the pot and the scrubbing and she
mumbles to herself, "My children are going to be minstrels."

Lawrence moves slightly, in order to position himself closer to the
young woman he's working closest to. He offers her another furtive
smile, this time accompanied by a whispered suggestion.

Annabelle giggles, lobbing a clod of dirt at her husband. "Not tonight,"
she says teasingly, but slowly the life sucks out of her tanned, open
expression. "Tonight's the meeting. Full moon is coming."

Louisa scrubs the pot more vigorously. "And warriors."

Lawrence shrugs his shoulders slightly, and moves back to till this
field that seems to grow rocks much faster than crops. "You know where
to find me if you change your mind," he answers Annabelle lightly,
apparently trying to dispel the dark thoughts.

Again, Adam thinks, as he oils the saddle with renewed fercor. Or, is it
frustration? Tonight's meeting is in the fore of his mind, and he
pushes the rag further, trying to stifle the memories, which still
have not gone away.

Mera looks up from where she's chopping potatoes with the knife. "Don't
wish that on them, child. No one needs more death, around here." The
children run on, out of Adam's view. A male voice calls behind him,
"How's it coming?"

Louisa glances back to her mother and sighs to herself.

The sound of his father's voice snaps Adam out of his task. He turns to
the older man, and nods. "Getting there," he replies, "but it will
take another hour to finish, probably another to dry."

The older man nods to his son and returns to his own chores. Time
passes, the village goes about its business as the sun climbs higher
into the sky. Soon people begin breaking for lunch, and a few hours
after noon, the village crier calls the beginning of the meeting.
People begin filing toward the village center.

Louisa makes her way toward the center, wandering through the milling
crowd as if she is looking for someone.

Lawrence dallies slightly, waiting to accompany his young wife rather
than head to the meeting alone. Despite the somber tenor of the
occasion, he seems in good spirits.

Adam watches his father approach the center of the crowd, and follows
him, staying by his side.

Annabelle slips her hand into Lawrence's as the two find an empty spot
and sit near two other couples their age. She leans her head against
his shoulder as the men begin to talk about a coming hunting trip.

Young Richard is already there, waiting. He's picked a nice spot of soft
grass to sit on and seems to be reserving it for someone.

Peter nods to to some of the other respected members of the town as he
and his son move to a place near the seats of the Elders. A couple of
young women, not yet married, giggle as two sets of blue eyes peek
toward Adam as he walks by.

Louisa tries not to run and ends up skipping over to where Richard sits.
She drops to the grass beside him and murmurs to him quietly.

Adam doesn't notice the eyes on him as he watches the Elders gather. His
tension raises a little, almost impatiently.

The Elders of the town come out of a central building. They number five,
men ranging in age from Adam's father to a wrinkled man with solid
gray hair. It's not the oldest that commands the meeting, but a tall
dark man with a scar on the lower part of his face. His name is Simon,
and his voice cuts through the murmurs of dozens of people like a
scythe through wheat. "All right, settle down."

Richard smiles and leans into Louisa, slipping his hand into hers. "Not
anymore," he says in reply. Just then, the crowd grows quiet and all
attention turns toward the Elders.

Louisa settles as close to Richard as is proper and perhaps a little
more, then grows solemn as she meeting begins.

Lawrence slips an arm around Annabelle's shoulders as he watches the
elders up front.

Adam keeps a close eye on the Elders, waiting to hear what they have to
say.

Simon look around as voices quiet. "I know all of you been watching the
sky," he says flatly. "And you're right. It's coming. Three more days,
says those that know. Then the fullest moon will be shining, and you
all know what that means."

"Hide the women and children!" comes one man's voice, followed by a few
others' laughter.

Adam shifts a little in his place, and turns a withering glare to the
laughing men.

Louisa shivers a bit, pressing nearer to Richard. She murmurs something
to him.

Simon's meaty chuckle comes. "Yep. But the men folks too." His gaze
suddenly hardens on the joking men as his voice turns cold. "Or unless
you think you're a match for a monster, I could bring to your mind
what was left of Steven two years ago. No monster bodies, like he
claimed, but his head in the top of the tallest tree of the village."

Richard gives the girl beside him a surprised look. He whispers back,
fiercely.

Adam eyes the ground, trying to /not/ remember again. He turns back to
Simon.

Lawrence shakes his head slightly, and his attention strays away from
the spectacle. "As if this isn't hard enough," he mutters beneath his
breath.

The group quiets down pretty quickly at the reminder. A few muttered
grumblings are the only other sounds they make, and those quickly fade
into silence.

Simon watches the group for a few moments longer before going on. "We've
firmed up all the doors we could over the winter. Tomorrow night we'll
sacrifice the white goats to the Great Hungry Wolf. Every household
must be represented, and each of you will be given a bowl of blood to
mark your door with the sign."

Adam turns to Peter with a slight scowl, knowing personally how well
that really works.

The young man with Louisa gives the girl a slow nod, then turns back to
listen to Simon.

Again, Lawrence shakes his head, this time with a kind of resigned
disgust.

Simon goes on. "After the ceremony, the children can search for
wolfsbane at sunrise. Then the night will be almost here. Everyone
must go into their homes and bar the doors. Don't come out, no matter
who you hear scream. If you open your door, we'll just lose two
families instead of one."

Adam sighs inwardly, shaking his head.

Louisa seems to be having a furtive aside conversation with Richard,
quiet enough not to interrupt the main discussion.

Simon looks around at the sober faces. "I know you doubt," he says. "Let
your faith be strong. It's all we have, against the monsters." He
turns then, dismissing the meeting.

Richard stands quickly. Turning, he helps Louisa up as well, and the two
start off toward his and his parents' home. Peter taps Adam's shoulder
and jerks his head in the direction of their own home. "We've work to
get finished 'fore we lose the sun."

Lawrence helps Annabelle back to her feet. "Let's get home," he
suggests.

Adam nods quietly to his father. "We do, yes," he says, and follows.
Maybe, maybe this year.

Louisa walks quickly along with Richard, holding his hand tightly.

Annabelle is shivering lightly as she continues to lean against
Lawrence. She allows him to pull her to her feet, nodding. She wraps
her arm around his waist as they walk, seeming to need the comfort of
flesh. She isn't alone, as the village disperses slowly.

People move off in all directions, generally sticking together in groups
of two or three or four. No one seems to want to be alone this
afternoon.

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