Gardenius was an odd wolf. In that he liked hares. Not to kill and eat, certainly not that, but to chase. To run along the moonlit moors in a silver-toned game that never seemed to end. They were the only animal that could rival his speed and dexterity--it would be a waste to cull them. That would be for the foxes and the hawks.
His brothers never quite understood his liking, to chase for the sake of chasing, but if he was happy then they had no quarrel. His little sister almost did. She likened it to a game of tag. Fun for all involved.
“Will you take me next time you go?” She asked, eyes big and pleading. The puppy dog eyes all werewolves were born equipped with. Dammit.
“Maybe.” He replied. “When you’ve grown into your paws.”
That night, when the moon was high and the air was cold, he slipped out the back door. A thick blanket of snow spread across the ground. Human footprints faded into wolf tracks; now, the night truly began. Gardenius steadily wound his way through the dense trees. Too fast and he’d expend the energy he needed when the game began. Besides, he liked nights like this. Cold and quiet, bathed in milky half-light. Untouched by the waking world. Private. Perfect.
Loping up the hill at the edge of the forest, he could see the vastness of the moors. Pristine white and gleaming softly. However, he had scarcely set a paw outside the treeline when he heard something to his right. Immediately, he stilled. A soft crunch in the snow. He glanced towards the noise, excitement already causing his ruff to stand on end. There, pausing on her haunches to sniff the frosty air, was a hare. Her coat was thick and silver, like starlight, a thin patch of white decorating her chest. She must have caught his scent, because her head whipped around to face him. For a moment, neither moved. Statuesque, they stared at one another.
Her nose twitched. Was that playfulness he saw? Mock challenging, daring him to just try and race her. Carefully, Gardenius edged himself towards her. The hare crouched. He stepped closer. She stood still. Once more, her nose twitched. Well then. If she wanted to race him, who was he to deny her?
Without wasting another second, Gardenius shot forward. The hare bolted away, kicking up snow as she went.
Over the hill and down to the moor they ran. Endless and looping circles through the vast white landscape. Chasing, chased. But she was clever. First, she zig-zagged across the moor. Quick, tight turns. Gardenius kept up every time. Once she saw how easily he kept pace with her, she tried something new. The hare slowed her pace. Just enough for him to close in on her. Then, just before he could overtake her, she veered to the left. Gardenius stumbled, nearly losing his balance as he twisted his body to follow.
A soft, warm sound broke through the frosty air. Was she laughing at him? Or perhaps the question should have been, why was he okay with that?
Those thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind, however. No sooner had he regained his footing was he off after her. All through the night they ran. Him chasing, her leading. Driven together by the simple thrill of haring through the snow. Flurries flew behind them. Even when he felt his paws grow numb, Gardenius couldn’t help but wish for it to continue forever.
When the game finally did come to an end, she lingered at the foot of the hill. Rising to her haunches, the hare called out:
“You make a good chasing partner, dear wolf!”
“You’re not so bad yourself, little hare.”
She twitched her nose. Not a challenge this time. Rather, she seemed proud.
“What might I call you,”the hare asked, bright pink eyes glinting in the dimness.
She tilted her head, as if testing his name.
“Quite formal,”she said finally. “A nickname, perhaps?”
“Grady, then. And you, dear hare? Have you a name for me?”
Without another word, she turned, and darted off into the underbrush. Gardenius was left alone. Yet, as he loped back home, he felt a lightness in his steps. Excitement, he realized. Even as he melted into his human skin, there was a buzz in his feet. Anticipation of a continuation. The continuation of a new game. Suddenly, he found himself looking forward to sunset more than usual. And many afterward.
Night after night they ran together. Night after night, until the stars began to fade and first few rays of sun painted the horizon. The only sound their footfalls and her laughter in his ears. Each time the sky darkened, he would run to see her. Rosanne would be there, waiting by the treeline every night without fail.
“Where shall you chase me tonight?” she would ask.
“Where do you wish to lead me?” he would reply.
Sometimes it would be to Lake Hazel, where they would sit and stargaze. Gardenius loved to listen to her name each constellation. (Rosanne’s favorite, by far, was Pyxis.) Sometimes it would be to the flower field to the east of the forest. She’d hide beneath the wildflowers while he would seek her. It would only last a moment before she tried to dart away, revealing her place and restarting their chasing game. Sometimes to the caves and caverns, when his winter pelt hadn’t yet shed and the night was too hot to run. They hid from the heat together. But most often it would be right back to the treeline. To lay side by side after a long night spent racing. Staring at the moon. Silent. Content.
It wasn’t long before Gardenius realized that he had grown to love her. Her laugh, her challenges and tricks, her softness. Just her. And for the first time in her presence, he was afraid. And not because of wolfish instinct. He wasn’t afraid to lose control; he took care to keep well away from her come full moon. No, it was something more than that. As far as Rosanne knew, he was a simple wolf. Unbound by shifting skin. In other words, not a werewolf. And it wasn’t exactly an easy thing to say.
Aside from that, how could it ever work? Her, a normal hare, and him, a beast of a different breed. It couldn’t. At least, that was what he thought.
It took him another year before he finally gathered the courage to tell her.
He met her at the foot of the hill just as always, the snow crunching beneath his paws. She didn't greet him; in fact, Rosanne didn't even seem to know he was there at all. Instead, she sat with her back to him, statue still.
With a gasp of surprise, Rosanne rocketed into the air. She landed on her backside in the powder. Rolling onto her side, she attempted to stand, only for the snow to swallow her up. Unable to help himself, Grady burst into laughter. For a second, he forgot his fear.
Kicking up flurries as she scrambled to her feet, Rosanne popped her head out of her ever-deepening hole.
"I'm so glad my struggling amuses you,"she droned.
"Oh, please,"Gardenius replied, stepping closer and gently enclosing his teeth around her scruff. He plucked her from her frosty imprisonment and set her down a few feet away. "How many times have you laughed at me for slipping on the ice at Lake Hazel? If you get to cackle your cottontail off then, I have a right to find you digging your own snowy burrow funny."
A chill breeze blew between them. Rosanne curled into herself, pointedly looking away from him. She hummed low in response.
Grady's ears twitched flat. His nervousness returned. Laying beside her, he nudged her side with the tip of his nose.
"I'm not making fun of you."
"I know,"she said, voice small. "I know. I suppose I'm just... being silly. I've gone puce."
She chuckled, pink eyes glancing up to catch the uncomfortable look on her dear wolf's face. Lightness crept into her voice again.
"Bit of an ugly word, isn't it?"
"Very!" He paused, thinking. "Isn't that a color?"
"A very ugly color!" She affirmed. "I use it to describe all the ugly feelings I have that I can't name. I'm not quite angry, so I'm not red. And I'm not sad, so I'm not blue. But I'm not scared, either, so I'm not yellow."
"Now what would you have to be scared about?"
Silence. Then, barely audible:
What? When--how?--had this happened? She had been fine around him lately. Even if with it getting close to the full moon, he'd been handling it well. He thought he had, at any rate. She would have told him sooner if he'd been acting funny. Right?
"Have I been--" He searched for the right words. "Our game. Have I been too... too much?"
"No!" Rosanne flinched at the sharpness of her voice. "No, no, never! You've been perfect, Grady."
"Then what have I done to make you scared?"
She'd tell him the truth, right? If he'd done something, said something wrong, she'd tell him exactly what it was, right?
"It's not you that's the problem! It's... What I mean to say is that, it's me. How I feel around you."
"How I feel and... And what I'm hiding from you."
Confusion draped itself over his features. Anxiety built in the back of his throat.
"Tell me,"he pleaded, "So I can understand. Please."
Rosanne shifted away. Tension hung in the air. Icy. Prickling.
"Can you close your eyes,"she asked. "Just for a moment. For me. And then I'll tell you everything."
Uncertainty filled every inch of his body. Shouldn't that be him asking that question? Shouldn't that be him feeling the terror in her eyes? Yet, here he was, on the other side of the conversation. He wasn't sure how to react.
"Just for a moment,"he repeated, lashes fluttering closed, "Just for you."
He heard it. The familiar sound of crackling bone. Of stretching skin. Shifting shapes. And crying. She was crying. Whether it was the pain of changing or the fear of his reaction, she was scared and hurting. He hurt, too.
"Can I look?" Grady edged towards her.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
Kneeling in the snow before him was a woman. Her hands covered her face, despair etched into every inch of her skin. Long hair fell over her shoulders, thick and silver. Like starlight. Except, she wasn't much like a star anymore. No, she was brighter. Fuller. Still just as captivating and yet even more. She was moonlight.
Gardenius released his breath.
"Do you hate me now?" Her voice shook, muffled by her hands.
"Never." His answer was stiff, growled out with a sureness he'd never known. "Gods, no, love."
Little by little, Rosanne uncovered her face. And she watched as, little by little, Gardenius's shape changed. Fur melted away to reveal skin. Claws and fangs remained, now smaller, easier to hide. Platinum hair poured in waves over half of his face, pushed back to reveal gentle eyes the color of mint candy.
Careful fingers wiped away her tears.
"Silly little hare,"he whispered, drawing closer. "I'm supposed to be the one crying."
Rosanne sniffed, rubbing her eyes. She placed a hand on his cheek.
"Did you mean it? When you called me love?"
Warmth wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest. He brought his forehead to hers.
"Yes. Yes, I love you." The answer was resolute, breathed just close enough to taste. "My dear hare. My moonlight. I'm yours."
Soft lips brushed over his.
