Monday: December 24, 2007
Who: All werewolves and guests at the barrier
When: Before sunset, and onward
Where: Werewolf barrier, Northeastern forest
What: Full moon and a forest full of werewolves
The falling snow gave a false sense of peace for there was nothing peaceful about the full moon, at least not for those who were its prisoner month after month. The silver orb in the sky, hundreds of thousands of miles away, was the catalyst for the violent change in the lycanthropes. No, the peaceful atmosphere upon the land would only last until the sun sank below the horizon. Then the night would be overcome by the howls from each and every lycanthrope.
The lycanthropes traveled to the enclosure before sunset, most of them dressed in old, worn-out clothing that would get destroyed during their transformation. From afar their trek was reminiscent of a death march, slow, reluctant footfalls through the snow until they reached their destination. Christmas Eve did little to alleviate the foreboding aura that descended like the unending snow.
Tonight, the snow would bleed. Deep crimson seeping through the pristine crystals until it reached the frozen earth. There would be few areas free from the bloodshed, and the carnage. It was the reason the enclosure was needed. It confined the werewolves, and their murderous rage to an area free of humans and praeternaturals. It kept the citizens safe to enjoy their winter holiday while the wolves raced through the trees and underbrush after their prey.
When: Before sunset, and onward
Where: Werewolf barrier, Northeastern forest
What: Full moon and a forest full of werewolves
The falling snow gave a false sense of peace for there was nothing peaceful about the full moon, at least not for those who were its prisoner month after month. The silver orb in the sky, hundreds of thousands of miles away, was the catalyst for the violent change in the lycanthropes. No, the peaceful atmosphere upon the land would only last until the sun sank below the horizon. Then the night would be overcome by the howls from each and every lycanthrope.
The lycanthropes traveled to the enclosure before sunset, most of them dressed in old, worn-out clothing that would get destroyed during their transformation. From afar their trek was reminiscent of a death march, slow, reluctant footfalls through the snow until they reached their destination. Christmas Eve did little to alleviate the foreboding aura that descended like the unending snow.
Tonight, the snow would bleed. Deep crimson seeping through the pristine crystals until it reached the frozen earth. There would be few areas free from the bloodshed, and the carnage. It was the reason the enclosure was needed. It confined the werewolves, and their murderous rage to an area free of humans and praeternaturals. It kept the citizens safe to enjoy their winter holiday while the wolves raced through the trees and underbrush after their prey.