I hurtle through the woods, wind billowing through my fur and twigs snapping beneath my paws. I have less than a minute to catch the squirrel. If I’m even a second too slow... well, it’s best not to consider that possibility. Horror spikes through my chest as I feel my body begin to transform. It’s now or never. Bending my knees and tensing my stomach, I pounce.
And then I wake up.
******************************
“Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” my brother sneers as I sleepily shove a spoonful of cereal into my mouth. I ignore him, too exhausted to come up with a sufficiently scathing response.
I had another of those nightmares last night, the ones that leave me drained, both physically and mentally. While I can only recall vague flashes of this one - an owl’s hoot, a strange, metallic taste, and a feeling of utter desperation - I feel as though I’ve dreamt it before, and more than once. Is that even possible? To have the exact same dream repeatedly? But I’m too drowsy to ponder it further, so I wolf down my breakfast and pad up the staircase to my bedroom. Ten minutes later, I’m sleeping like a log.
******************************
“Nila!” Mum calls from the drawing room. “Come here!”
I trudge downstairs, irritated. “What is it now?”
“Where’ve you been all day?”
“Sleeping.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“I was exhausted,” I explain defensively. “Now may I leave?”
“No, you may not. Mr. Aditya claims to have spotted a wild animal in our half of the woods last night. He’s probably just paranoid, but it’s best we’re on our guard anyway. So stay away from the forest during the day, and don’t go outdoors at all in the night. Oh, and make sure to lock and bolt the front door every evening. Is that understood?”
“Yes. Now may I leave?”
Mum merely sighs in response.
******************************
It’s been two weeks since my last nightmare, but I don’t think they’re really gone yet. I don’t remember when I had the first one, but I do know that it was here, at our farmhouse. Perhaps I’ll have to leave before I’m entirely free of them.
My mother’s shout of “Nila! Have you bolted the door?” startles me out of my reverie. There’s no point in wasting the day worrying about the night, I suppose, so I suppress my terrifying theories and do what she asks. Then I head upstairs and settle in for what I hope will be a peaceful night’s sleep.
******************************
I’m trapped. I’m surrounded by walls on all four sides, and there’s no way out. If I can’t somehow make my own way soon, I’m doomed. I have to taste blood by the break of dawn, or I’ll lose my life. I pace back and forth, claw at the ground, and growl in frustration.
I’ll do whatever it takes to survive, I decide. Whatever it takes.
******************************
I wake to the sound of a scream.
Rolling out of bed, I scramble down the stairs towards the source of the noise. I’m still half-asleep - my nightmares returned last night, leaving me more fatigued than ever.
The sight that greets me when I enter the drawing room certainly wakes me up. Mum is standing, motionless, in the centre of the chamber. She is fear personified, with her skin as pale as the fading moon, her eyes as wide as oceans, her mouth open on a terror-filled shriek. I stop short when I catch sight of the wreck around her. Our once-luxurious velvet carpet has been ripped to shreds, the floorboards beneath it cracked beyond repair. There are claw marks on every inch of the walls and door, the curtains torn to the ground. And in the midst of it all is my brother - bruised, bloodied, and unequivocally dead.
And then Dad is dashing past me, trying to comfort his wife while he is in shock himself. And Mum is wailing, shrieking, howling with grief. And the labourers are knocking on the door, trying to find out what’s happened. And everyone is rushing, rushing, rushing, but I stay rooted to the spot, staring at my brother’s mangled corpse.
And then a realisation hits me, knocking the wind out of my lungs and my feet from beneath my body. Those nightmares... weren’t just nightmares after all. I transformed last night, and a fortnight before that, and a fortnight before that, into a vicious, bloodthirsty beast. And on each of those moonlit nights, I took another life to secure my own. The first time, it was a rabbit’s. Two weeks ago, it was a squirrel’s. And last night, when I was trapped in my family’s home? It was my brother’s.
Next full moon, I decide, I will not drink a drop of blood. I’ll ride the night out, and by dawn, I’ll be as dead as the brother I have murdered. Maybe then, I will finally find peace.
