FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time. (PG-13)

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FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time. (PG-13)

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FULL MOONLIGHT----Ch 9---------Once Upon A Time.

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DISCLAIMER: I don’t own ‘Moonlight’, or any of its wonderful characters. I’m just taking them out for a run! No copyright infringement is intended.

SUMMARY: A multi-chapter action-adventure featuring Mick, Beth, Josef, Logan, Talbot, Guillermo, Simone, and a few really big werewolves, among others. Rated PG-13 for mild language and violence.

SPOILERS: Follows on from all 16 episodes of ‘Moonlight’, as aired on CBS. Follows on from Allegrita’s FanFic, ‘Presto Agitato’, Ch 1 & 2. (Mick and Beth ‘sealed the deal’ and are now lovers.) Follows on from Desdemona’s FanFic, ‘Silver’, Ch 1 thru 7 only. (Talbot finds out about vampires in general, and Mick in particular, the hard way!) Borrows, with Eris’ kind permission, her original character of ‘Karl’ from her many fine FanFics.

Ready to climb into the way-back machine? OK! Here we…..Go!


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“Alright boys and girls,” Josef began, leaning back in his chair, “Once upon a time, long, long ago…..in a land far, far away……. there lived a very cocky young vampire. That young vampire was me.

I was just barely a Yearling, as a vampire, but I was oh so sure of myself. My Sire was wealthy and old. She was very powerful. I took it for granted that I would always be under her protection, and that her wealth would also be my wealth.”, Josef paused, a sad, distant expression in his eyes. He glanced across his desk at Mick and Beth. They were both listening intently.

“What I didn’t know,” Josef continued, “was that my Sire was a big proponent of natural selection, long before Charles Darwin popularized the concept. Shortly after the end of my first year as a vampire under her protection, and roof, she informed me that it was time for me to prove I was worthy of being counted among her Get.

I sat and listened, dumbfounded, while she lectured me about how she-bears chase their weaned cubs up a tree, and then go off and leave them to fend for themselves. ‘Only the strongest cubs survive.’, she said. ‘It’s the natural order of things’.

I tried to point out that I wasn’t a bear, but she just laughed at me, saying that the ‘principal’ was the same. She told me that I was to leave her estate that night, with nothing but the clothes on my back, and a few coins in my pocket. She made it sound like she was being kind when she pointed out that it was the dead of winter, so I could easily find places to den-up in the snow. But, by summer, she said, I would have to have secured more substantial shelter if I was to survive.

That’s one of the great things about the modern age, I think. Thanks to electricity, freezers, and UV-shielded glass, vampires can live anywhere they want these days. But back then, when I was a Yearling, not so much.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing…..it didn’t seem real. I was terrified, and I knew she could smell my terror, but I didn’t care. Once again, she sounded as though she thought herself kind when she told me that, if I survived a year on my own, I could then return to her and receive my reward. She added, almost as an after thought, that she had done this with many Yearlings, many times before, and that only a few had proved themselves worthy by surviving on their own. ‘The world is a hard place,’ she said, ‘and only the strongest survive. But the strongest are rewarded.’

I remember wondering how many……how many Yearlings before me had been tossed out to fend for themselves…..and hadn’t made it? How many had? But, my Sire was not in the mood to share such details.

After a year, she told me, I could return to her estate, and, having proved myself worthy, I would be rewarded with a share of her wealth, and an estate of my own. She warned me not to try to return before a year had passed, or she would kill me herself.

And with that, she handed me a few paltry coins, and quite literally shoved me out the front door into the winter night. ‘Go!’, she demanded, when I tried to make one last appeal to stay. Then she slammed the door in my face.

I remember feeling completely lost as I walked through the large outer gate and heard it rolling down and clattering shut behind me. Now, short of jumping over the perimeter wall, there was no way back. And, of course, she had promised to kill me if I tried to return to her before a year had passed.

I just started walking. I didn’t know what else to do. It was snowing. This was way before planes and cars, so the silence was deafening. The year was about 1622, and it was Romania. Back then, Romania was divided into three Principalities…..Walachia, Moldavia, and Transylvania. I was born, both times, in Walachia. My Sire’s estate sat at the base of the Transylvanian Alps, on the Walachian side. The Transylvanian Alps eventually meet up with the Carpathian mountain range and turn North, towards the Ukraine.

I thought about trying to head for Bucharest, but then I thought…. what then? I had only a few coins. How was I going to secure shelter from next summer’s heat with that, let alone a blood source? All kinds of ideas went through my mind…..including becoming something of a highway-man, robbing travelers of both money, clothes, and blood. I ended up deciding to stay close to the Transylvanian Alps, and go with the highway-man idea. If nothing else, I thought, I could retreat to higher altitudes in the summer and shelter in caves to escape the heat. There are many places in those Alps where the snow doesn’t melt, even in summer.

So I wandered, never straying far from the Alps. During the day, I would find a secluded place in the forest and dig myself a snow cave to sleep in. At night, I ambushed the occasional traveler.”

Josef saw Mick’s jaw tighten alittle at this, and Beth’s eyes widened just a bit more.

He smiled sadly, and continued, “Yeah….I’m not proud of that part of my past. I became a common thief. But at least I didn’t kill any travelers…..I essentially mugged them, taking some of their blood, but not enough to kill them. I also relieved them of their money, and any extra clothes they had packed. Then I let them go. They were so grateful to still be alive, they ran like scalded cats.”

Josef paused for a moment, his expression darkening in remembered anger, “Except for one man…..from his scent, and from his blood, I could tell he had recently hurt a young woman….hurt her badly. I could smell her terror, and her pain, on him. I may be a lot of things, but an abuser of women is not one of them. I have a very low tolerance for that sort of thing, always have. I drained that bastard, and I enjoyed doing it. Then I took all of his money, and all of his clothes that would fit me. I left him lying dead in the gutter beside a muddy road…..which is what he deserved. He didn’t hurt any more women after that night.

Life went on like that for me, for maybe two or three weeks. I was managing to survive by the skin of my teeth, no pun intended. Eventually, I wandered into a tiny village. I don’t remember the name of it, and I don’t think it still exists today. Thanks to both stolen clothing, and stolen money, I was half-way presentable. I headed straight for the ratty little tavern, the only one in town.

In retrospect….I should have stuck to my highway-man lifestyle, and stayed away from any villages. That was working for me, I was surviving. But, I was lonely. I missed having someone to talk to, and I couldn’t exactly talk to the travelers I was robbing…. and feeding off of. That would have been great….. ‘Hey….thanks for the blood, and the money, and the clothes. Oh, don’t give those bite marks a second thought. They’ll heal fast…really….don’t worry about it. So…..you pass this way often?’ I didn’t think that would go over very well.

Anyway…..I wanted to talk to someone, I wanted a drink, and I was hungry. I figured I could get all three needs met at that little tavern.

Turns out, I wasn’t wrong, at least not at first. There was a pretty young barmaid who served me a drink, and talked with me for awhile. Nice girl, very sweet, both figuratively and literally. She seemed to understand what I was, and for a few extra coins slipped to her under the table, she went out back with me.

I was feeding from her when we were surprised, cornered actually. Entirely my fault…..I was too inexperienced to notice I had put myself in a blind alley.

I remember a man yelling, ‘Hey! You there! What are you doing! Get away from her!’

I released the barmaid and she stumbled away from me, as surprised and frightened as I was. What started as one man rapidly turned into several men. With nowhere to go…..I went straight up, jumping over a fence and out of the alley. Big mistake…..I heard the same man yell, ‘Vampire!’, and I knew I was totally screwed.

The rest of the night was a blur. That torch-bearing mob I’m always telling you about? Well, the next thing I knew, they were on my tail, complete with said torches, and numerous very sharp farm implements. I ran as fast as I could, but it didn’t matter…..they had dogs….and those hounds followed my scent all night, and into the next morning. No matter how well I hid, the dogs eventually found me, and the villagers flushed me out, brandishing wooden pitchforks no less…..three sharp stakes on a stick!

They kept me moving, driving me forward long past sun-up. I don’t know how they did it….I was exhausted, but those villagers and their damn hounds….they just kept after me. In retrospect, I’ve wondered if they relayed me, passing the baton from one farm to the next as the chase wore on, getting fresh dogs…..I don’t know. But, I’ll never forget the sound of those hounds baying behind me, knowing they were tracking me. Sometimes, on those rare occasions when I dream, I still hear them, and I’m still running.”

Josef paused and glanced across the desk at his audience. Both Mick and Beth were wide-eyed, and both their mouths were hanging open slightly. Mick didn’t need to breathe, but Beth did, and she was clearly holding her breath in anticipation.

“I didn’t realize it at the time,” Josef continued, “but I was being driven towards an objective. Whether it was deliberate, or just lucky happenstance from the villagers’ point of view, I don’t know.

I ran into what I hoped would be the cover of a dense forest. The sun was up and I was reeling with sun-sickness by that time, close to dropping in my tracks. I was exhausted, and I desperately needed shelter from the sun’s rays. The mob followed me into the trees a short distance, but then I heard them stop. Their dogs stopped too, and I heard the mangy curs whimper and run back to their masters. Then they all became very quiet.

I had just stumbled into a forest clearing, a small snowy meadow. When I heard the mob stop, I felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps they wouldn’t follow me any deeper into the forest, that maybe I had a chance. Then I caught his scent.

It was a wild, deep musk….. distinctly canine, and male, but unlike any canine I had ever smelled before .……the scent was powerful, and close. That was when I saw him, standing just in front of the trees on the other side of the small meadow, as though he had come out to meet me. Turns out, he had. He heard the mob and their hounds approaching, and knew they were driving something his way. He was an enormous animal, as big as a horse. His fur was a rich coppery red….like one of those Irish Setter dogs, and his eyes were bright green. He was just standing there in the snow, watching me. He cocked his head to one side slightly, and I saw him scent the air. I could see his breath steaming in plumes out in front of his long muzzle. Behind me, back there somewhere through the trees, the mob and their hounds were silent, but I could hear them breathing. They were waiting.

I was done. Too exhausted and sun-sick to walk, let alone keep running. A mob behind me, and a werewolf in front of me, while the sun beat down from above. Check mate. I tried to comfort myself with the notion that the wolf would probably provide me with a quicker death. At least better than that mob shoving a pitchfork into my chest and setting me on fire.

As if on cue, the red wolf snarled and charged me. I didn’t even try to get out of his way….what was the point? I didn’t have a chance, and I knew it. I dropped to my knees in the snow and closed my eyes, waiting, hoping it would be quick.

I felt him skid to a halt in front of me. I could feel his hot breath on the top of my head, ruffling my hair and blowing down the back of my neck. He was standing right over me…….I wondered what he was waiting for…..why didn’t he just get it over with?

What I didn’t know at the time was that my submissive posture….on my knees, with my eyes closed….had diffused the werewolf’s anger. Without realizing it, I was essentially speaking wolf, if you will…..saying that I was sorry for offending him.

A few seconds passed, and then the werewolf jabbed his long muzzle into my chest and flipped me over onto my back in the snow. I didn’t struggle…..I was too sick and worn out. He planted one huge hand-like front paw in the middle of my chest as he stood over me, pinning me to the ground. The next thing I knew, that snarling muzzle was in my face, and I was looking up into the biggest set of teeth I’d ever seen in my short life. I remember thinking that it had been a really short life….even by human standards. So not fair. But at least that big shaggy head hanging over me gave me some shade from the sunlight. I closed my eyes again. I didn’t want to see the death blow coming…..and there was no point trying to fight.

I would find out later that I had, once again, been speaking wolf in keeping still and offering no resistance. Body language reaches werewolves on an almost unconscious level. Fortunately for me, that wolf wasn’t hunting me. He was just pissed off. If he’d been wanting a vampire for lunch, all the submissive behavior in the world wouldn’t have stopped him.

But, instead of ripping my head off, I heard him say something in a low growling voice, and in a language I didn’t understand or recognize.”

“Whoa! Hold on a minute!”, Mick interrupted, “It….talked?! As in….speaking words?!” He and Beth exchanged startled glances, and then looked back at Josef.

Josef glared at his audience, not appreciating the interruption at all. He had been on a roll. “Yes…he spoke, and he used actual words. It just wasn’t any language I recognized at the time.”

“Werewolves can talk….just like we’re talking now? When they are in their wolf forms?!” Mick was incredulous.

From the look of surprise on Beth’s face, Josef guessed that her grandfather either hadn’t known this, or if he knew, he never mentioned it to her. Made sense, actually. Ol’ Grandpa had been paid to hunt down and kill rogue werewolves. Most paid assassins don’t try to engage their targets in conversation, especially when that target is homicidal and gigantic.

Josef sighed. “Yes. Like I told you both the other night, werewolves maintain their human intelligence and memories, their sense of self, when they are in their lupine forms. They aren’t just animals. They also maintain several other human characteristics in their lupine forms, such as their hand-like front paws, and the ability to walk, or run, on their hind legs if needed. They can use their front legs like we use our arms if they need to….they are tremendously flexible, much more so than a normal canine body. An ordinary canine can’t really rotate their forelegs into a palm-up position. A werewolf can, just like we can. They also retain the ability to work their jaw side to side, like we can. They can actually chew food like a human would. Ordinary canines can only champ their jaws up and down…..not side to side like a human, or a werewolf can. And lastly, they retain a vocal cord anatomy that allows speech. Their voices change alittle bit from one form to the other….what with the different size and shape of the mouth and tongue, and the much larger vocal cords. Their voices in their lupine forms are usually deeper than in their human forms….but surprisingly recognizable. What I mean to say is that they still sound pretty much like themselves from one form to the other.”

Beth and Mick sat blinking silently at him on the other side of his desk.

“So……”, Josef asked, “Do you two want to hear the rest of this story, or not?” He quirked an eyebrow at them.

Beth and Mick nodded frantically in unison.

“OK then.” Josef smiled, and continued. “Everything I’ve told you about werewolves? I didn’t know any of it back then….other than werewolves liking to eat vampires if they got the chance. That was all my Sire had told me. So, I was pretty surprised too when I heard the brute say something. I found out later that he was speaking Irish-Gaelic, but I had never heard Gaelic before, and I certainly didn’t speak it.

I opened my eyes and looked up at him. His teeth were bared, and just inches from my face. He snarled at me and repeated his question, at least I assumed it was a question. I answered him in Romanian, the only language I spoke then, telling him I didn’t understand whatever language he was speaking.

He snarled again, and then spoke in Romanian, with a very heavy Irish accent, ‘Why are they chasing you? What did you do to Mariska?! I can smell her blood on you, vampire!’

I remember thinking, Mariska? The sun-sickness was really taking its toll on me. Who the hell was Mariska? Oh wait….the Barmaid? I asked him if that’s who he meant. I probably could have been more diplomatic, but I was so tired and so sick. He nodded, and his snarl got deeper and louder.

I told him, ‘I didn’t hurt her…I paid her money….she was…. cooperative.’

He pressed down on my chest harder. I heard a couple of my ribs crack. ‘Are you calling Mariska a whore?!’ His green eyes were flashing with rage, his muzzle wrinkled in a deep snarl.

I wasn’t about to have my last act on earth to be casting shame on any young woman’s name, especially one as kind and gentle as that barmaid. I didn’t want to be misunderstood. ‘No!’, I told him quickly, ‘No….she was kind to me. She sold me whiskey, and then she sold me some of her blood. That was all! She sold me drinks! I was lonely and she talked with me. I never touched her in any other way, except to take the blood she sold me…..and I didn’t hurt her. She’s well! I swear it!’

He eased up on the pressure on my chest. ‘Why then do they chase you?’, he asked, flipping his muzzle in the direction of the torch-bearing mob, who were still out there past the thick trees, apparently waiting, and perhaps trying to watch and listen as well.

‘They caught me feeding from the barmaid…..Mariska.’, I told him, ‘That was all they needed to see to start hunting me down.’

He starred down at me for several seconds, and then he inhaled deeply, scenting me. His eyes slid closed. I didn’t know it at the time, but he was ‘reading’ me through my scent. That’s what werewolves call it…..reading.”

Josef paused and looked at Mick. “You know how we can see snapshots of someone’s recent past in their scent, and, more vividly, in their blood?” Mick nodded. “Well, werewolves are much more sophisticated at that than we are, and they need only your scent to do it, as long as they are close to you. They can ‘read’ any creature like a book, using only that creature’s scent. They see the most recent events in your life first, and then they can just keep paging backward through your entire life, if they want to. They can see it all, your memories, your life, from your viewpoint, through your eyes. Werewolves say that everything a person has endured is permanently ‘written’ in their scent. They can ‘read’ that writing. But, unlike us, they must be close to you to ‘read’ you, and they have to concentrate on it. They can’t pick up images from what’s left behind in an empty room, like we can.

Anyway…..I didn’t know at the time what the red wolf was doing, standing over me with his eyes closed like that…..perhaps saying Grace? All I knew was that I wanted him to get it over with. I was so weak and sun-sick….I was starting to fade in and out of consciousness. Remember, I was just a Yearling…..much too young to tolerate prolonged exposure to sunlight. I was burning up with fever, and completely miserable. I was thinking that my Sire had been right…..it seemed I was too weak to survive….and I deserved death. I was unworthy. It was the natural order of things.

Apparently, my short life thus far didn’t take the wolf long to page through. And, what he had seen didn’t offend him, at least not where I was concerned. I heard him say, apparently to himself, ‘What kind of Sire could do such a thing to one of her own?’ He sounded astonished, and I wondered how he could know anything about my Sire. Then he put his muzzle right beside my ear and whispered, ‘Play dead, vampire.’ I tried to focus on his face….but things were getting hazy. All I saw were a pair of emerald green eyes lost in a sea of red fur.

Without warning, he suddenly cut loose with a terrible bellowing roar. It was like a cross between the bellow of a great bear, and the bay of an enormous hound. Then he snapped his jaws shut on empty air right beside my head. I remember thinking…..what?….he missed? I was so confused at that point. Then he shook his head violently from side to side, like a terrier killing an invisible rat. I just watched, too weak and sick to even flinch. He took his front paws and batted me back and forth in the snow, rolling me side to side. I thought he was playing with me, the way a cat plays with a mouse. I wished he would hurry up and finish me. Finally, he tipped his muzzle towards the sky and howled. The howl was a beautiful sound.

I dimly heard the mob start to cheer and clap through the trees. They thought the wolf had just killed me…..it was why they had driven me into those woods. My sun-sick brain finally got it. As I watched in confusion, the werewolf bit down hard on his foreleg, spraying his own blood onto the snow around us briefly. My mouth watered…..I needed that….but I was too weak to move. The scent of his spilled blood was heavenly. The wound closed in seconds and the blood flow stopped. I heard myself whimpering.

The next thing I knew, the world tilted and spun crazily around me as the red wolf snatched me up in his arms and rose up on his hind legs. Playing dead wasn’t a stretch for me at that point, I was so far gone that I don’t think I could have moved even if I had tried. I just hung limply in his grasp. He immediately turned his back on the direction I had come from…..the place where the cheering mob was still carrying on…..and started jogging on his hind legs towards the opposite side of the little meadow, heading towards the tree line where he had first appeared. I remember starring down at the ground underneath him as he carried me out of the clearing and into the trees. I could see his huge hind paws crushing the snow down as he walked….. paws the size of dinner plates. I particularly recall being focused on the large, curved claws that bristled from his toes. Then I blacked out.

Then next time I drifted back towards consciousness, I heard the sound of digging, and heard the wolf’s voice muttering something in Gaelic. It was a struggle to crack my eyes open, but I managed. I was laying on a snow drift under the shade of some trees. That alone had me feeling slightly better. I was out of the direct sunlight, and the snow felt wonderful.

The red wolf was a few feet away from me. He was digging in deep snow, shoveling great loads of it out behind him, sailing between his hind legs. I thought he looked like a big dog trying to dig out a ground squirrel. That thought made me start to snort and giggle like the town drunk….I was a bit delirious, I think. The sight of this gigantic wolf digging in the snow suddenly seemed like the most hilarious thing I had ever seen.

He heard me, and turned to look at me, cocking his head to one side and eyeing me, as though trying to decide if my mind had snapped. I covered my mouth with shaking hands, trying to stop the giggles, and not having much luck. One corner of his mouth crooked up in a smirk. He said in Romanian, ‘Good…..you’re awake….good sign. The sense of humor is a good sign too……I think. Lay still, vampire. You are very sick. We must get your fever down.’

He reached out towards me with one enormous hand-like front paw and grabbed me by one ankle, pulling me towards him and into the hole in the snow he had been digging. I slid along like a dead fish, still sputtering with bouts of giggles.

‘This will do for now.’ , he said. ‘I shall make more permanent arrangements. You rest here until I return.’

I laid limply in the snow cave and sank back into unconsciousness as the wolf began to shove snow in on top of me, burying me in it.

The next thing I became aware of was a large burley forearm being pressed to my mouth. I heard the wolf’s heavily accented voice dimly, saying, ‘Bite vampire….bite. Come on……. you must eat. Ah….I should have fed you sooner. Damnit! Bite!’ His voice sounded alittle different, but I could tell it was him…..same thick accent. The arm being pressed to my mouth was a man’s arm, not a wolf’s foreleg. I could feel a large hand supporting the back of my head. I was so weak, it was difficult to even drop my fangs, even though I desperately needed blood. I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes. I think my body was starting to shut down. I felt him shove his forearm harder against my mouth, until the tips of my slowly responding fangs cut his skin, drawing blood. That did it. My fangs dropped completely, and I bit down out of reflex. It was a blind-bite, and I think I hit an artery.

‘Good…..there’s a good lad.’, I heard him say, ‘Take all you need, and keep your fangs in the wound or it will close immediately.’

The werewolf’s blood was the most amazing thing I had ever tasted. Raw, elemental power coursed through it….it was like drinking the sun itself…..I don’t know how else to describe it. So much energy! I could feel it restoring me, healing me, filling me with strength unlike anything I had ever known before. I gulped it down by the pint, and I began listening to his heartbeat out of habit, to make sure I wasn’t taking more than he could give.

He must have sensed my concern for his well being. I heard him say, ‘Don’t worry yourself, vampire. Take as much as you can hold. You can not drain me. I can give as much as you need, as often as you need.’

He wasn’t exaggerating. I drank several quarts…..more than enough to kill a human many times over. But my host was fine….his heartbeat and his strength never faltered.

When I could hold no more, I released his arm. I felt his hand on the back of my head ease me back down onto a soft bed of snow. ‘There now.’, he said, ‘You sleep. I will be back to check on you later. Since your own Sire, that cruel sow, has abandoned you…… I shall adopt you. You will be safe here.’ I drifted off into unconsciousness again, feeling very safe…..my body using it’s newly acquired fuel to begin healing itself, undoing the damage the sun-sickness had caused.

I don’t know how long I slept. When I woke, I could tell by the feel of the air that it was night outside. I felt good…..better than good…..I felt stronger, better, than I had ever felt in my entire life. I looked cautiously around myself. I was in what appeared to be a simple root cellar. It was full almost to the rafters with piles of snow. The snow had been recently brought in by wheelbarrow load after wheelbarrow load. I could see the wheel marks of the barrow on the earthen floor of the cellar. Many trips in and out had been made, apparently while I slept.

I listened, but heard nothing moving anywhere. I was laying in a pile of snow, partially covered in it, with only my head and shoulders exposed. I crawled out of my make-shift bed and stood. For a root cellar, the ceiling was high, enough for me to stand without stooping. There was a lantern hanging on a peg, but it wasn’t lit. That was fine. I didn’t need the light anyway.

There were two entrances to the root cellar. One was an earthen ramp leading to a set of nearly horizontal doors. This apparently led to the outside, and was where the many wheelbarrow tracks led to and from. The other entrance was a doorway at the top of a flight of wooden stairs. That appeared to lead to an indoor location.

I carefully climbed the stairs and tried the door. It wasn’t locked, and it swung open into a modest cabin. One lantern glowed on a simple table in the middle of the room. Four wooden chairs surrounded the table. A fire was crackling in a small stone fireplace.
Iron cooking pans and pots hung from the walls. Another doorway led to a tiny adjoining room with a sleeping cot and a little night stand.

I was still taking in my surroundings when I heard the rustling of brush outside. I went to one window and looked out. I saw the red wolf step out of the trees. I could smell the blood on him…..animal blood…..venison. Now that I was clear-headed, I could really take in what I was seeing for the first time. My host was a massive, and completely magnificent animal, in his lupine form. A refined head, with tall pointed ears and a long, graceful muzzle. Long body, straight top line. Intelligent green eyes glinted, and his coppery fur shone and rippled in the moonlight as he moved. His half-tail jutted out behind him, long feathers of coppery fur hanging down from it, again, like one of those Irish Setter dogs.”

Josef paused in his story and glared at Mick in annoyance. Mick was wearing a smirk, one eyebrow raised. “I can feel the sarcastic jab coming, Mick. Save it for another time. I didn’t have a ‘crush’ on my Foster-Sire……but I appreciate beauty in all its forms, and my host….my Foster-Sire…..was beautiful. For the record…..I like women…….a lot.”

Mick grinned and shrugged. Beth never took her eyes off of Josef. She was mesmerized by the story, and waited breathlessly for more.

Josef continued. “I watched as the red wolf crossed the clearing in front of the cabin. He stepped into a little creek that ran beside the cabin, folding his legs under him, lowering his body into the icy flowing water and dipping his face under the current. When he stood again, the blood from his meal had been washed away. He stepped out of the creek and shook himself like a big dog, water spraying every where. Then he started towards the cabin. He paused half-way between the creek and the cabin, and I saw the most amazing thing I had ever seen in my short life up to that point. He transformed. He rose up on his hind legs, and in a matter of seconds, the enormous red wolf melted down into a tall, burley man.

The naked man then continued walking towards the cabin and quickly opened the door, stepping inside. He saw me and smiled. ‘Ah….your up and about! Good! It’s about time! How do you feel?’

That’s one thing I learned quickly about werewolves…..they’re very comfortable with public nudity. They hardly give it a second thought. But it took me a while to get used to…..I was embarrassed. I looked away…..if I could have blushed, I would have.

He smiled. ‘Sorry lad.’, he said. He grabbed a robe from a peg by the door and pulled it on, tying the sash at his waist. ‘I needed to go get something to eat. You took a lot from me, and that made me really hungry. I had to hunt. You’ll have to forgive an old wolf. My kind tends to not worry about clothes too much…….. we spent so much time running around in just our fur.’

I coughed and cleared my throat, trying to get past the embarrassment. ‘I’m in your debt, sir.’, I said. ‘No apologies needed. You saved my life.’

‘Ah! No trouble at all!’, he said in that thick Irish accent of his, ‘I shall be your Foster-Sire until such time as you can return to your natural Sire and collect the inheritance that heartless cow has promised you.’

I blinked at him. How did he know anything about my Sire, or what she had done, or what she had promised me? I just came right out and asked him. It was then that he explained how werewolves can ‘read’ someone’s scent and know their entire past from it.

He went to the fireplace and put some water in a kettle on to boil with a swing arm that held the kettle over the flames. Then he sat at the table and gestured for me to do the same. I sat, regarding my benefactor. In his human form, he was a very tall, muscular fellow, with a coppery red beard and hair, and a handsome, symmetrical face. I guessed him to be about 6 foot six inches tall, give or take alittle. His eyes were an unusually bright shade of green. He looked no more than thirty years of age.

I asked him how old he really was, and he smiled, saying that an ‘old wolf’ like him needed to keep some secrets. All he would say was that he was ‘old enough’ to have wandered through, and lived in, many places. He said he had been living here, in that cabin, for the past several decades, and had seen all of that little town’s inhabitants grow up from children.

I decided to ask the obvious question. ‘Sir,’ I started cautiously, ‘Those villagers know what you are?’

‘First of all,’ he replied, ‘Sir was my father. My name is Phelan. What is your name son?’

‘Josef.’ I told him.

He stuck his hand across the table at me. We shook. ‘Pleased to meet you properly, Josef!’ He beamed at me. ‘Sorry I was so rough on you earlier. I assumed you had hurt Mariska, until I read the truth in your scent. Then I had to fake your death, so the angry villages would be satisfied. You can’t go back into town, by the way, you’re dead. And, to answer your question, yes…..the villagers know what I am. They regard me as their town’s protector. They like having me around, which is why I’ve stayed here so long. Everyone likes to feel needed and appreciated. There’s also plenty of wild game to be had around here, and that’s very important. I make frequent trips into town for what few household items I need. I’m never there for long before someone offers to buy me a pint of Ale. I love a good Ale. Mariska serves up a mighty fine Ale. Such a lovely girl too, easy on the eyes.’ He winked.

I asked Phelan why he didn’t live in a Pack…..all werewolves lived in Packs, I had thought.

‘I’ve always been a loner,’ he replied, ‘Even when I was human, I’ve always kept my own council and savored my own space. Too much politics in Pack life. Because of my size….. I’m bigger than the average were….. I’m always expected to be the Alpha, and I don’t want that kind of responsibility. But my size also has its advantages. It allows me to stake out a territory of my own and not be bothered. Neighboring Packs give my territory a wide berth because their Alpha Males don’t want to tangle with me.’ He smiled.

‘How did the villages find out what you are?’, I asked, ‘It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing to bring up over a pint of Ale.’

Phelan grinned. ‘No, it’s not. Shortly after I settled here, and built this cabin, there was an incident. I was hunting one day, and in my wolf form, when I heard a child scream, followed by a woman’s scream and a man’s shout. I ran towards the source, which turned out to be a little boy who had fallen into rain-swollen stream. He was being swept downstream quickly, and the boy’s parents were running frantically along the opposite bank, chasing him and calling to him. Neither of them knew how to swim, at least they didn’t believe they knew. Really, everyone knows how to swim, if they’ll just listen to their bodies….. it’s instinct. But humans have always had this crazy notion that they must be taught how to swim. Anyway, it was summer time, but the large stream was mostly melt-water from high in the mountains. It was icy. I knew the boy would either drown, or succumb to the cold, if he wasn’t rescued fast.

I ran ahead of the child and jumped in, swimming out to intercept him. His parents saw me right away. I heard them gasp. They didn’t know if I was going to save their son, or eat him. I reached the boy and he grabbed onto the fur around my neck. He took one second to look into my eyes, then he scrambled up onto my back, coughing and sputtering from the water he had swallowed. I swam to the opposite bank where the child’s terrified parents were waiting. He clung tightly to the fur on my back the whole way. Climbing out of the water, I lowered my body so that the exhausted boy could dismount more easily. I didn’t want him to fall. He slid off slowly and stood beside me on shaky legs, just looking up into my face. I could tell from the terror in their scents that his parents knew what I was, but they inched closer anyway, watching me.

The child reached up and grabbed a hank of fur on the side of my face, tugging downward. His parents gasped collectively again. I lowered my head to the boy, which was what he seemed to want. He murmured something to me in Romanian…..at that time, I hadn’t learned any Romanian yet. Then the child threw his arms around my neck, as far as his little arms would reach, and hugged me.

After several seconds, he released me and stepped over to his parents. His father scooped him up in his arms. I turned to go, but the boy’s mother said something. I couldn’t understand her, of course, but her tone was clearly beseeching. She wanted me to wait. I stopped and turned back towards the family. The mother approached me slowly. When she was beside me, she murmured something, thank you, I assumed. I nodded. She then copied her son, throwing her arms around my neck and hugging the daylights out of me. I was stunned, to say the least, and more than alittle embarrassed when my tail began to wag of its own accord.

One thing led to another, after that day. Word about me spread through the little town quickly. I was the ‘friendly werewolf’, and the villagers loved me. I learned Romanian, and became part of their little community. Another bonus for the villagers was my scent-marking of my new territory. I expanded it to encompass all their farms. This not only kept other weres away, it also kept common predators away, the animals that might otherwise have killed a lot of their livestock on a regular basis. They stopped losing calves and lambs. Their herds grew. I suddenly had more friends than I had ever had in my life. And I liked it.’

‘Scent-marking?’, I asked. I knew what he meant, but you know how I am……I couldn’t resist.

Phelan rolled his eyes at me. “Yes lad…..it’s just what you think it is…..I piss on things.’

I laughed. He laughed too. Then he said, ‘Mariska is the only daughter of that young boy I saved all those years ago. They were my first human friends. I watched her father grow up. I watched her grow up. That’s why I almost killed you…..I thought you had hurt her. I’m very protective of her…..of all the villagers really. They have become like family to me.’

I suddenly felt somber. ‘I understand.’, I said.

He eyed me for several seconds with those intense green eyes of his…..then he just nodded, like something important had been agreed upon. The kettle on the fire began to steam and whistle. Phelan got up and swung the metal arm, taking the kettle out of the flames. He then got down some cups from his cupboard and made us tea. I sipped at mine, not wanting to be impolite.

‘So,’ I began, ‘I can stay here until I can return to my Sire?’

‘Yes. I will Foster you.’

‘You’ll keep on feeding me?’ I shifted in my seat. I was nervous. I didn’t want to appear eager, but, at the same time, I was desperate for more of his rich, incredibly powerful blood.

‘Yes. All you can eat. It is not a hardship for me.’, Phelan replied, ‘At worst, I’ll have to hunt more often.’

I grinned like a fool. It was better than I could have hoped for……a snow-filled root cellar to shelter me through the coming year, and a steady supply of the best blood on the planet. I had died and gone to vampire-heaven…..the only thing missing was women.

Winter wore into spring, and then summer into fall. Phelan and I were buddies. He fed me and protected me. Both Foster-Sire and freshie to me. The snow in his root cellar lasted all year, providing me with a cold place to sleep during the day. His blood made me strong enough to endure longer and longer exposures to sunlight, so I could be out and about more during the day, even though I was still so young. He taught me all about the lives of werewolves, and I taught him what little I had learned about the lives of vampires.

I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere’s near the village. The illusion that he had killed me had to be maintained. I had to hide whenever villagers visited his cabin, which they often did. Until one day………

It was early evening, and I heard Phelan approaching the cabin. He was not alone. I heard a woman’s voice with him. I scurried like a rat down into the root cellar to hide. I was thinking to myself, great, Phelan gets female company, and I just get to listen. Not fair.

I heard them enter the cabin. Then I heard Phelan call me. ‘Josef? Come out! There’s someone here to see you!’

I hesitantly made my way back up the stairs and opened the door into the cabin. What was going on?

Then I saw her…….the barmaid, Mariska. She was standing there near the door with Phelan. She was starring at me with her mouth hanging open.

‘I told you, my dear,’ Phelan said to her, ‘I didn’t hurt him.’

Mariska surprised the hell out of me by rushing at me and throwing her arms around me. Phelan watched us, a soft smile on his face.

‘I am so relieved you are alive, kind sir!’, Mariska said, ‘Phelan said he had not killed you……but all the men said they had seen him shaking you back and forth, and heard him roar, and found your blood on the snow! I did not know what to think!’

‘I’m well.’, I said as she released her grip on me, ‘The blood on the snow was Phelan’s. A ruse to keep me safe. He has protected me, and fed me, all this time.’

Mariska turned and hugged Phelan fiercely. ‘Forgive me for doubting you, Phelan! I should have known you would never lie to me!’

Phelan returned her embrace, stroking the back of her head, and making little soothing sounds. I suddenly felt like I was intruding. I made myself busy in heating water for tea and setting out cups.

We played chess all evening in front of the fire, Mariska taking on whoever had won the last game. It was a wonderful night. Whenever Phelan caught me eying Mariska, he would growl softly. Message received. Mariska was like a daughter to him, and heaven help me if I trifled with that!” Josef smiled at the memory, a thousand yard stare on his youthful face.

“Anyway,’ Josef continued, ‘Before I knew it, it was winter again. A year had passed since I had been unceremoniously tossed out of my Sire’s estate to fend for myself. It was time to return, and claim the inheritance she had promised me.

Phelan insisted on delivering me to her doorstep, so to speak. He resented her for the way she had treated me, and he wanted her to know it. We started off at sundown one winter’s night. I rode Phelan like a horse, gripping his ribcage with my legs, and holding tight to the dense red mane around his neck. He carried me with ridiculous ease, racing through the dark forest, following the Transylvanian Alps. It was exhilarating. I’ve ridden many a horse…..but this was tremendously different. Phelan was so fast, so graceful, and his footfalls so silent as he ran…..it was like flying.

When the daybreak came, I sheltered in a mountain cave while Phelan hunted game. Then he fed me from his forearm…..for what I feared would be the last time.

We started off again on the final leg of the journey at sunset, galloping through the night towards my home.

When we reached the ridge overlooking my Sire’s estate, Phelan insisted I remain seated astride him. I sat waiting. Phelan tipped his muzzle up and howled, long and loud. We waited. It wasn’t long before I could see sentries appear along the wall…..and then what we waited for….my Sire. She stepped out onto a high parapet. She found us immediately, and was watching us. With her heightened vision, I knew she could see us as easily as we saw her.

I smiled, realizing what Phelan was doing. He wanted her to see us together, to know that I had a powerful ally. It had the desired effect. I could see the look of amazement on her face, and better yet, a faint tinge of fear.

Phelan turned his great shaggy head and looked back at me. The corners of his mouth crooked up in a smile. Then he turned back and looked at my Sire across the distance between us. ‘Can you hear me?’, he asked her.

I saw her nod. ‘Good.’, Phelan said coldly, ‘Josef is my Foster-Son now. Give him what you promised, and treat him well. I will be watching. If you fail to do well by him……I will kill you.’ I could tell Phelan wasn’t bluffing……and by the expression on my Sire’s face, she also knew he meant every word.

Phelan looked back at me and nodded. I slid down from his back to the ground. I stood beside him for a moment, choking on the emotions rushing through me. How do you thank someone for saving your life, for sheltering you, for feeding you, teaching you, being your friend…..when no one else would be? There were no words. I threw my arms around his big shaggy neck and hugged him tight, burying my face in his coppery mane. He sat down on his haunches and pressed his long muzzle down against my back, while wrapping one huge foreleg around me in a final embrace. I could feel his love for me……I had truly become like a son to him…..something my actual Sire had never felt for me…..something I had not experienced since the love of my human parents.

Finally, we released each other and nodded. ‘Now.’ Phelan said, ‘Go get your inheritance. That sow knows I will be watching! We’ll keep in touch…..you and I. You know where to find me. Let me know the location of your new estate!’ He smiled, and it rapidly became a big canine grin, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, the way dogs do when they are happy. I laughed and hugged him one more time, before stepping away and starting to make my way down the ridge.

He remained there on the ridge, and watched as I walked toward the gates of my Sire’s estate. She came out to meet me with a great show of welcoming affection. I wasn’t buying it…..and neither was Phelan. I heard him snarl softly from the ridgeline. He really didn’t like my Sire. She heard the snarl too, and tried to bustle me inside the gates….as though those gates could have kept Phelan out! Not a chance.

Before I went inside, I turned and waved to Phelan. He howled in response….a long, melodious cry. So beautiful.
Then he turned and disappeared down the other side of the ridge. Just like that…..he was gone. I went inside with my Sire….back to my home…..although, it didn’t feel like home anymore.

Decades passed. My Sire kept her promise….establishing me in an elaborate estate of my own…..with great wealth that was all mine. She did not wish to anger Phelan. And true to his word…..he was watching.

Phelan and I…….we did keep in touch. It was long before the days of email and text-messaging, but we stayed in touch. I visited him often…..in his little cabin in the woods. And he often came to my estate, as my most honored guest.

We both watched as Mariska married, and had children of her own…..followed by Grandchildren. Finally, when she was old and gray, we laid Mariska to rest on a beautiful spring day. I felt old…..even though….by both werewolf and vampire standards…..I was still quite young. Phelan wisely advised me to get used to it……’Mortals die, my friend.’, he said. ‘You will have to come to terms with that, son, or it will break your heart, and turn life into a burden.’

My poor homeland…….it had been war-torn for most of its life. Before the Romans, it was called Dacia. Then it became a Roman province, for the second, and third century. By the time the Romans left, it had become Romania. The original Dacian people were believed to be essentially extinct. But sadly, without Roman protection, the new Romania was promptly overrun by the Goths, the Huns, the Avars, the Bulgars, the Magyars, and the Mongols, in that order. Then came the Turks…..and their Ottoman Empire.

I was born to my human parents during the reign of the Ottoman Empire. The Princes of Walachia and Moldavia were considered ‘vassals’ of the Ottoman Empire, but they maintained considerable independence. Their Rules, to this day, are considered to be periods of relative prosperity and cultural development, at least compared with what was to come. The Hungarians claimed ownership of Transylvania during those long decades.

Then there were the damn Greeks, who were given power and ownership over us by the Turks. Were we never to be a people unto ourselves? Apparently not……at least not for a very long time.

Phelan and I remained close until about 1715. Everything started going guts-up at that point. The Turks, and their Greek friends, really crushed us under their boots. The Romanian people tried to revolt many times, with little success. By the end of the eighteen century, the Russians and the Austrians began to move in, challenging the Turks’ and Greeks’ rule. By that time, the Romanian people had been reduced to wandering herdsmen and desperately poor peasants. There was no civilization left. Only a very few wealthy landowners, such as myself, remained, in scattered estates that had become more like fortresses out of necessity.

I grew so tired of watching humans kill each other, that, by 1800, I had decided that I needed to move on. I wanted no more war. I went to say goodbye to Phelan, only to find that his cabin was abandoned, and his village had been burned to the ground, an apparent causality in a peasant uprising against overwhelming military force.

It was not until much later that I heard the stories of a monstrously huge red wolf that had attacked the Turkish and Greek forces. The stories said the great red wolf had slaughtered hundreds of soldiers, in a futile attempt to protect his village…….his friends. But, it was all in vain…..the wheels of history could not be stopped.

There was nothing left. The village was gone. All the people were gone. I did not know if they were all dead, or if some had survived and fled. I could have scented it, tried to focus, tried to get images of what had happened, but I didn’t want to see it. It was too painful. I turned away.

I stopped and paid my respects at Mariska’s grave. Then I went to Phelan’s cabin one last time. In the root cellar, where I used to sleep, I found a note left there for me.

It read, ‘Josef…..Be good to yourself. The world is not as horrible as it sometimes seems. There is beauty everywhere, if you just take the time to look. Our paths will cross again one day, my friend. Of that I have no doubt. But, for now, I believe it is time for both of us to move on……. Phelan.’

I left my homeland and wandered through Europe. I searched for Phelan in Ireland, but did not find him. I wanted peace, but I found it no where. War was everywhere I looked.

Finally, I boarded a ship for the New World……a place called America. It was called the land of freedom and opportunity. Surely there…..there would be no more war…..surely there would be peace in such a place.

Not so much……I arrived in New York just in time to see Lincoln become President of this new land. Then, the Civil War began.”
Last edited by lionsonleashes on Mon Feb 16, 2009 8:06 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time.

Post by coco »

WOW what a fabulous back story :mrgreen:
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Re: FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time.

Post by lionsonleashes »

coco wrote:WOW what a fabulous back story :mrgreen:
Excellent lions :D
Thanks soooo much Coco! :D

I was initially alittle worried about introducing the Phelan character in Josef's past, but I had to explain Josef's extensive knowledge of werewolves. I didn't think the audience would take him seriously, or even like him. I couldn't have been more wrong! :o Feedback on Phelan has been overwelmingly positive on other boards, to the extent that I plan on bringing Phelan back into the present day story at a later date. :D I don't know which Chapter will feature the return of Phelan, because bringing him back in wasn't part of my original outline for the story in my head. So, I'm kind of doing some rewriting of future Chapter outlines in order to bring Phelan back into Josef's life. We'll see what happens! :lol:
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Re: FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time. (PG-13)

Post by wollstonecraft61 »

Oh, I love Phelan!!!! I am so glad he will be present later in this story!!!! :hyper2:
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Re: FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time. (PG-13)

Post by lionsonleashes »

Thanks Woll! :notworthy: :rose:
Yeah.....Phelan was supposed to be a one-shot character.....just part of Josef's back-story. But....as I wrote him.....he took on a life of his own and I got 'attached' to the character I had created. :type: I couldn't bring myself to kill him off......so, the big Irish werewolf will be back! :D
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Re: FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time. (PG-13)

Post by jen »

Lions

I can't tell you how much I love this chapter. We heard Mick say that Josef had seen so much history...he WAS history. With the beautiful descriptive abilities you have used to weave this wonderful story, you have laid out a rich backstory that gives us all a glimpse of what was a very important, pivotal event in Josef's life.

Wonderful!

Thank you!

Jenna

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Re: FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time. (PG-13)

Post by lionsonleashes »

Aaahh.... :rose: ....Thank you so much, Jen! That means alot to me! :yahoo: :hyper2: :notworthy:
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Re: FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time. (PG-13)

Post by jen »

Lions

That is a wonderfully rich and enjoyable chapter!!

It shows that there is great good in both vampires and werewolves. There is a deep love of connections and life. There was great heartlessness and cruelty in Josef's sire. Could she truly believe she was being kind?

Unbelievable!

Phelan is a fabulous character. A treasure trove of wisdom and strength when Josef needed it.

I love this!!!!

Thanks, Lions

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Re: FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time. (PG-13)

Post by jen »

bumpage


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Re: FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time. (PG-13)

Post by lionsonleashes »

Thanks Jen! :hug:

I'm so glad you enjoyed this Chapter! :notworthy:
And yeah.....Josef's Sire was one cold-hearted vampress! She truely did see herself as doing her Newbies a kindness by giving each of them some money, and bum's-rushing them in the dead of winter. She saw herself as making sure that only the strongest of her offspring would survive....the best of the best. She saw this as her obligation to her race..... but, she thought herself kind in cutting them lose during the coldest season, giving them the highest odds of survival on their own....starting out with very few resources.

And I'm so happy you enjoyed Phelan! :yahoo: He's my first, and favorite, Original Character! :hearts: I'm pretty fond of the shaggy fellow! :dog:

Talk to you later!
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Re: FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time. (PG-13)

Post by jen »

What a wonderfully rich backstory or cooperation!!

Phelan is a beautiful soul as well as a remarkable creature. Noble in many ways.

You are such a remarkable storyteller! I'm so glad you decided to keep Phelan a part of the story!

Thanks!

Jenna

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Re: FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time. (PG-13)

Post by jen »

You have given us all a wonderful history lesson in this chapter, wrapped around a story of mercy, kindness and friendship.

Thank you!

Jenna

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Re: FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time. (PG-13)

Post by francis »

Phelan is a fascinating character. I want a spin-off of his lifestory. :snicker:
I just hope now that it's not him who kills the vampires. It would hurt so much if he had left his friendly ways and gotten violent, cynical and cruel.
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Re: FULL MOONLIGHT---Ch 9----Once Upon A Time. (PG-13)

Post by lionsonleashes »

Nah.....Fear not, Francis! :hug: :comfort2: Phelan was then, and still is, a very good boy. :laugh: He'll be back in future Chapters, but he's not the vamp-eater. :noway:
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