Harvest Moon

Joe splashed his face with cold water, trying to wash away what was inside. He always tried to stay inside on nights like this even though it never helped. He stalked out of the bathroom with his face still wet, dark hair dripping on to his chest. The city was hot and airless, even this late at night. A harvest moon hung over the clouds, hidden from sight. He felt it as it crept up on him unseen, hunting him every month. He couldn’t sleep on nights like this; nothing worked right. Thoughts streamed away and food was like mud in his mouth. He felt trapped by the walls and there was only one thing that he could do. He didn’t want to but he had to run free.

Joe dressed quickly, grabbing his clothes from the floor. Black leather trousers and a short jacket stretched over his sinewy back. He could smell the warm leather, the animal and chemical scents blending unnaturally, unleashing a flood of saliva that was half nausea and half hunger. He swallowed it down, the spit and the feeling both, and brushed back his hair, his clenched teeth white in the gloom. He pulled some old trainers out from under the bed and slipped them on. They felt like part of him and he could run in them, fast and easy. He felt hungry, focussed now that he had decided. It was time to be who he was.

He passed the lift, the metal box too like a cage and headed for the stairs. They zigzagged down to the street level and Joe ran down the flights, trying to keep precise, touching each step lightly and quickly. It was all about control, keeping it, having it and knowing how to use it. It felt better to be doing something, away from the walls, away from the apartment that hid him and caged him. The stairs stank of urine and disinfectant and the reek caught in his throat, overpowering but somehow that was OK; too much was barely enough on a night like this. He reached the door and looked out - It was dark except for the streetlamps and their sodium yellow reflected from the clouds. The city looked unreal in the half-light, hardly a place at all but Joe needed to be free of the endless pacing. He opened the door and stepped into the night. His senses were always sharp and this close to moonlight, they screamed at him. There was music, quieter now as the evening wound down and the warm and sharp smells of bars and cigarette smoke rode the air. The wind was from the south and he could almost taste the lands that the wind had ridden over. The city was all around him and he ran with great loping strides that carried him far and fast. He wanted to howl but laughed instead, joyful now to be alive and aware. The streets blurred past in the darkness.

His muscles started to loosen and there was pleasure in the physicality of them. The movement was a part of him and he could run all night if he needed. His body ran and his mind was free to feel the sensations of the night. Joe marvelled at how little people felt of their world, how bound they were to their meaningless lives. The world felt balanced and he was a part of it, natural and right. He rolled his shoulders as he ran and some of the tension eased. It was good to be free. Streets suddenly gave way to grass as he reached the park. He wanted to pull off his trainers to feel the earth under his feet but this was the city and the grass was all needles and glass. Even so, the soil scented the night and there were rustles from rats and urban foxes out of sight. This was life inside the dead concrete of the city. He breathed in, great lungfuls of air as if he was trying to inhale the world. He stopped and smiled and there was hunger there, teeth showing. Joe slipped off his jacket and the scars on his chest showed pale where they cut through the hair. He started to trot, moving along a path that took him through the centre and out the other side of the park.

The burger van was under a streetlamp and the orange light coloured the scratched white of the sides garishly bright. The smell was strong now, onions and beef and hot fat blending together. Joe’s mouth watered and he found hunger. He dipped a hand in to his pocket and found a limp tenner. Joe joined the queue.
It was hard to wait when everything that Joe could see, hear and smell made him want to push the fools in front of him out of the way but that wasn’t the way of the city. Instead, he fidgeted, trying to fool himself that he was cooling down his muscles after the run but all the time he was trying hard not to drool. There was no-one behind him as he got the van. The guy inside was pale, shiny with grease and sweat. He looked half familiar and Joe looked at him, head tilted to one side. When the man spoke, the words seemed strange to him. His mind worked slowly when the animal side was strong. The cook asked again “What’ll it be?”. Joe shook his head to clear it and ordered, “Meat. Beef. Beefburgers, just the meat.”. He slapped the £10 on the counter and watched hungrily as the man cooked. The burgers were piled into a cardboard shell and handed over. Joe snatched the food and turned away from the van, ignoring his change. His senses focussed on the smell and the need to gorge, suddenly ravenous. The meat was greasy and half cooked, the juices from the rare meat exciting him. The juices ran down his chin as he tore at the food, swallowing it in chunks. Finally, he felt full, pleasantly so and then full to bursting. Joe relaxed for the first time in days, one appetite sated. He licked at the grease on his hands, enjoying the smell of the meal.

He looked around and saw that he was still near the van, mere paces away. He stalked over to the pool of light and up to the van. The cook was staring at him and there was a whiff of fear about him. Joe wondered if the man would speak but he just stared as Joe grabbed a handful of napkins and scrubbed at his face and hands, the paper rough on his skin. His jacket was near his feet, forgotten in his hunger. He bent to scoop it up and slipped his arms into the leather sleeves, leaving it open. It was a good night, a night to be alive. He looked up and saw that the cloud was holding. Now that he had eaten, there was no need to rush. It was late and the clubs would be turning out. Maybe a stroll to the city centre would be just the thing.

The club-land of the city was well lit and thronged with people, young and foolish, caution lost in drink and hormones. Joe felt far older than them although there were only a handful of years between him and the people. Joe had lived more and walked in some dark places and he felt older in experience, older in his nature. These seemed like innocents to him even though they dressed in fashions designed to tease and entice. He didn’t mind that at all and watched with interest, with a newly awakening hunger. The boys were nothing to him, shirts half untucked over dark trousers. He passed them by. He watched the girls, loud and uncouth but tempting with short tops and trousers cut so low, skin and scent on display. Many wore tattoos and displayed them well over curving buttocks or tight stomachs. He looked on openly; if a few of the girls noticed him then so much the better. He knew that he had the look, the ranginess of his kind and black leather with a bare chest was an advert in itself. He had tumbled a few girls and some of them hadn’t minded so much. Here and there, couples clutched at each other in doorways and pheromones ran thick in the air. Joe breathed deep and watched the swaying hips of the women around him. The bitterness of the alcohol was a counterpoint to the sweetness of their skin and their abandon appealed all the more on this night.

Joe luxuriated in the scent and tried to imagine how the girl in front of him would be in bed, imagining the taste of her skin and the softness of her. He sniffed again, breathing in the messages in the air, anticipating… but no, there was a new note, a danger that he hadn’t caught before. It was like his scent and yet not him, feral, animalistic and unknown. Could there be another who had run this night, a stranger in his place? He needed to know. The stranger could be a brother or a threat but he could not remain unknown. Forgetting the girl, Joe moved to the hunt, casting for the scent on the crowded streets. Smoke, vomit and sweat were all distractions but the trail of musk was strong and distinctive. This was another hunter in the heart of his city. Quickly, he covered ground but without running, never moving too fast to keep the scent. It grew stronger. He was close now. There were only two figures ahead. It was hard to see the sky through the blaze of the city but he could feel the cloud thinning. He would hurry and catch the new brother before it was too late. Joe loped forward, closing the distance fast. The couple were arguing, the man insistent and the woman growing impatient. The scent was powerful now, pushing everything else into the background.

Joe reached forward and grabbed the man, spinning him around. A wave of scent came off his body and Joe felt the wolf in him rise. He pushed the beast down, staying human with an effort and dodged a clumsy attempt to head-butt. The man reeled drunkenly, stupid and swearing. Joe looked at him with disgust. Could this be another of his kind? No, this was just a boy, a stupid slack-faced human boy that faced him. There was nothing of the hunter in him and he was no kin of Joe’s. Joe snapped out his arm, hitting the fool with the flat of his hand, knocking him sprawling away. Adrenaline surged and Joe fell into a crouch, the world becoming simple around him. The animal in him rose and he struggled to control it. The anger fought his will and he knew that he couldn’t hold it long. He breathed deep and the scent was there, stronger than ever but not from the man. He fought to focus and looked at the girl for the first time. It was her! She was one of his, the first that he had met. She looked like any woman but muscular and lean, as rangy as Joe. Her lips twisted into a snarl and her eyes caught the light for a moment, reflecting orange. She was running before Joe knew that he would pursue. He followed her, admiring the grace of her as she ran ahead. He stumbled on her discarded shoe and righted himself to see her duck in an alleyway. The clouds were breaking up and his time was near but he had to get to her. He raced on, following her in to the alley. He skidded, his feet sliding on the pavement as he cornered and entered. Strong hands grabbed his arm and swung him, slamming his shoulder into the wall. While he was stunned, her arms slid around him, pinning his arms from behind. Her nails dug into his bare chest and he felt blood trickle where she had cut. Her scent was overpowering, her human perfume almost lost in her musk. He tried to find words, to know what to say after so long. He had been alone so long that it had seemed the only way.

She spoke first, snarling the words. “Leave me, little boy, leave me be. You would be so afraid…”. Her voice faltered as the first faint rays from the moon filtered through the overcast and into the alley. He felt his skin tingle where the light touched it and knew that the change would come now whatever he did. At the same moment, he felt her stiffen and he knew that she felt it too. He twisted round as her grip faltered and looked her full in the eye. Her mouth opened as if to speak but then she shuddered, wordless. His bones ached and he knew that the change was close. This had always been a time of pain and fear but he was no longer alone. Suddenly lustful, he kissed her desperately and felt her hands claw for him in need. He was becoming wolf, hair surging from his skin and she was changing under his hands… her skin, her scent, her taste all became other and yet the same. He tasted blood in her mouth and licked her face, revelling in her taste. More than wolf, more than man, they had each other and the moon. It was a wonderful night.

On the high street, twin howls sounded from the darkness. Conversations faltered and the revellers drew a little closer together, feeling a sudden chill in the muggy air. There was a new terror to the dark… and yet it was as old as man. The night knew its own.