The moon of Lokul is often associated with curses and ill omen—it is also most associated to werewolves and werebears. The moon comes closest to the planet once every six months. During this time those with Dark Elf Blood—and to a lesser extent Light Elf Blood—experience painful menstrual cramps during what is known as their “Lokul Cycle”. As if to remind them of their curse, some of those with Dark Elf Blood suffer from the berserkergang. Should a life threatening situation ever trigger their fight or flight—or something as simple as intense pain—they will go berserk and undergo a transformation into a creature not unlike a bear or a werewolf. In fact, they are sometimes simply referred to as werebears or werewolves.

One such victim of fate is a young Sweiza Serif. She is about fifteen, and has been invited by a young, dorky and quite naive male boy (of the same age) to the festival dance. However, the dance this year would coincide with Sweiza’s Lokul Cycle. She knew it would be coming. She has already missed the first few nights of what would be a week long festival. Her parents know her whereabouts, but they say nothing to their fellow villagers. Everyone knows by now about her affliction; most people ignore it. That is until some of the younger children point their fingers and start murmuring about what makes her ‘different’.

When she finally worked up the courage to go to the dance on the third night, their words were all it took and an otherwise boisterous girl is set into tears and runs. Her would be suitor “Lester”, manages to track her down to the woodshed behind her house. Hidden from view and pointing towards the backs of other houses, there are very few (if any windows) from the neighbors that can see anyone there—perhaps three or four upper story windows from two or three houses. This place used to be a punishment where her mother and father would make her sleep if she ever misbehaved. Now it has become a sanctuary of sorts when it is simply too hot inside or when she wants to find solace.

She has shaky and heavy breathing. There is pain between her legs; but she can feel it shooting all throughout her body. If she concentrates she can ignore it. She can’t go to the dance like this. Her head of hair now matches the rest of the hair that has sprouted all over her body in a brown hair-suit. Despite being covered in a suit of berserker hair, it does little to keep the young girl warm. Instead, a simple pillow and a couple of blankets spread over several carefully arranged (and cut!) wood logs will suffice. This will be her shelter for at least another week until the moon of Lokul marches on. About the only thing to keep her sane through this ordeal is her diary—occasionally a friend walks by; sometimes ‘Little Sprite’ will also come by looking for a morsel of food—or more importantly ‘something sweet’.

She spends her days like this skulking in the shadows like a demon—or so she feels like one. Some days crying, other days trying to manage her confidence and courage. She swears she’ll get over the affliction someday—but that someday never seems to come fast enough.

Always back to this damn wood shed, in fact, if I…

“Well if it isn’t an ‘Angel Named Sera Tonic’. Where have you been? Everyone is worried about you. Weren’t you coming to the dance with me?”

Sweiza’s train of thought is interrupted by a familiar voice. The young male’s voice is lighthearted, if not a little concerned. He is clearly trying to provoke a response out of her in his typical fashion. She’s punched him before for his stupidity. She normally tolerates him. Keywords being ‘normally’. However, tonight like so many other berserker-hide ridden nights before, she won’t put up with him.

Her words come out as angry and harsh as she can muster.

“Go kick rocks Lester!”

—

“You know Sera, you’re going to miss the dance if you keep this up.” Lester has a small shoulder bag with him. He is busy rummaging for something inside of it.

The other-worldly eyes of the berserker-girl stare back at him. She says nothing. Perhaps she is too angry—or perhaps her berserker instincts are keeping her occupied. He doesn’t seem deterred. The artifact he pulls out surprises her—it is a straight razor (barber’s knife).

“What do you intend to do with that?” The girl’s eyes narrow.

“Hold still.” Lester flicks the handled blade and the blade flies out and stiffens.

The berserker-girl gets nervous.

“Let me see your arm.”

“I’d rather you didn’t Lester.”

“You do want to go to the dance don’t you?”

His hand is already reaching for her left arm. She instinctively jerks it back. Not to be deterred he tries again; the same result as before. His eyes widen at her—she finally relents. He presses the blade up against her arm.

“I read that berserker hide is enchanted and sharp objects cannot pierce it.”

“And…?” Sweiza is not amused. She blinks once at the hair on her arm that is suddenly cut.

He moves the blade in closer until her bare skin is showing.

He places the tip of the blade on her skin. He looks up at her once. She looks away. She feels something dig into her skin and turns around. A surprised Lester suddenly has a grin on his face.

“Oh, whatever!” She instinctively tries to jerk her arm away again; she is quite strong and the boy is pulled with her and he drops the blade. He has to use his arm to block going face first into a log.

“Sorry…” Sweiza looks away from him sheepishly. Both of her arms suddenly go into her lap.

Lester scrambles to his feet and grabs the blade again. By now Sweiza has her arm out. She lets out a discontented sigh.

Lester takes the blade and literally grinds it as if he is sharpening it against her arm hair. The hair comes off easily enough. He does it quicker. It comes off the same.

His theory is correct; berserker hide does indeed stop sharp objcts from piercing or cutting it, but the hair is the same as any human’s hair.

However, with fully-haired berserker, this might take some time.

—

Sweiza keeps fidgeting throughout the ordeal. It takes much longer than what was expected. The worst part was trying to cut away the hair on her face. He thankfully has some experience with his own face, but it is her constant fidgeting and flinching that makes it worse. He finally has her close her eyes. She reluctantly does it. The blade would easily pierce her eyes, but not the hide covering them. Her face takes a good fifteen minutes. Her normal head of hair is thankfully intact and he can cut around it.

“Well?” Sweiza is now curious with the ordeal done. “You did bring a mirror didn’t you?”

Lester fishes in his shoulder bag and proudly displays the item for her. She quickly grabs it from him—too quick for his liking. She quickly looks in it. She doesn’t normally fluff her hair, but this is one exception she’ll make. She eyes herself from multiple angles.

“Very good Lester—but I’m going to need that knife for a bit.”

“What? Why?” Lester gets nervous. She’s not going to tweak his hair is she?”

“Lester, just give me the knife!” Her emphasis on her last words has him a little shaken.

A shaky hand of a nervous boy hands it over to her. She jumps off the rock pile. He jumps back slightly.

“Lester, anything you can see normally is one thing. I’m going to have mama help me with the rest. I’ll see you at the dance. DON’T STAND ME UP!”

The boy is left bewildered as she trots to the front of her house. He’s left to scratch his head. He was going to dance with her regardless of how much of a harry brute she is. Whatever.

At least this time she didn’t tell him to go kick rocks again.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

—

Sweiza feels yet -another- swipe against her thigh. However, another one doesn’t come. She looks back at her mother. She sees her mother (Melda) with her arms crossed and the straight razor held in her right hand. Her mother looks quite cross.

Sweiza’s eyes shoot to the straight razor. Her mother’s hands go to her hips.

Sweiza stands up from the chair she was sitting in. She rushes up to her mother. Her mother lets out a grunt as the young girl hugs her—the girl still doesn’t know her own strength.

“Thank you so much mama!”

Sweiza’s berserker eyes glow that ghostly yellow anytime light is nearby. Her mother and so many others are frightened of it—no matter how much the villagers have gotten to it.

“Well, hurry up and go upstairs and take a shower. Make sure to look yourself up and down in the mirror once. You ungrateful daughter! Make sure not to break anything! I have canning to get back to.”

“Yes mama!”

Sweiza kisses her mother once on the cheek. She runs several feet towards the steps. She suddenly stops and turns around to face her mother. She lets out a very gracious bow before turning around and heading towards the stares. Much to her mother’s annoyance the towel that shielded the girl from most of her own hair, is suddenly dropping hair all over—as she makes her way to the stairs. Her mother shakes her head. Melda understands it was a good idea, but the girl should just get used to her predicament—everyone has a problem or two they must deal with. In this case she (Melda’s) would be having her daughter pull her away from more important matters such as canning. She no longer has time for such frivolous things such as dances when this year’s harvest was a poor one; she’ll need to can non stop for several weeks in order to have enough food for the family to get through the winter. Her reprieve will come some day—her daughter will likely be cursed with a girl even worse than she (Sweiza) is.

—

Sweiza wipes the condensation off of the mirror once. She opted not to take a shower, but a bath instead. She eyes herself in the mirror once. She’s gotten used to the look of her dull yellow eyes. It’s perhaps the one thing she can’t change. Perhaps tinted glasses, but she can’t afford them. She eyes the bathtub once. There is hair in it. Mama will be furious if she doesn’t clean it up. A noise from the window breaks her train of thought.

“Blegh! Too steamy!”

Sweiza looks up towards the window; it is Little Sprite.

He tries to fly into the bathroom, but quickly retreats to the window.

“Too humid!”

“Sprite, were you spying on me again?”

He shyly peaks over the window ledge and nods. This one (among others) is a bad habit she has been trying to break him of to get him to be more ready accepted by the villagers. This has been a slow and arduous process, but she has had some luck once she broke him of stealing food.

“So did you know it was me?”

He shakes his head.

“I saw someone in the window. I recognized the glowing eyes.”

“You’re terrible.”

He nods. She knows he wants something.

“Well, were you going to stare at me naked or can I get some clothing on?”

Sprite darts out the window. He knows she will be down in a few minutes. Their meeting place is as the woodshed behind the house.

Sweiza gives herself one last look in the mirror and then runs to her room. She hadn’t thought about getting any clothing. She’s not interested in her attire like other girls her age; however she does pick out her typical (and quite drab) dull green shorts and a white shirt with white socks. It isn’t pretty, but it works.

She runs back into the bathroom once. Her messy hair won’t do. She slicks her hair back with a natural kind of gel and then runs downstairs.

Her mother yells at her to walk as the girl does so. Melda shakes her head at the girl as Sweiza runs out the stairs.

—

Behind the wood pile, Little Sprite is greeted to the sight of his friend. Her normal casual wear is on. The only thing that stands out about her is her eyes—they are a dull yellow until the moon or a light hits them and they glow a very ghostly yellow to amber depending on the lighting.

“It’s a very naughty habit to be spying on people, Little Sprite.”

He flies up to her at face level and quickly nods. His wings flutter in anticipation.

She holds out a cup of sugar—this is from her own private stash that she earns by performing extra chores for her mother. Little Sprite has his uses and is easily bribed with sugar, so she keeps a stash in her bedroom.

He dive bombs the cup, but she quickly pulls it away.

He hovers in the air, forlorn at her free hand covering the cup. He knows what is coming next.

“Sprite, I have a job for you!”

His body slackens. He has to work for his treat, yet again.

“What kind of job?” He hovers out of arm reach; he’s gotten use to her trying to shoo him when he tries to get to the prize.

A devious look crosses Sweiza’s face.

“The most interesting kind.” Sweiza lets out a chuckle as she relinquishes the treat.

He is grateful he at least gets to eat before having to perform yet another errand for her.

—

It is much more than a dance for the village. It is part of the annual fertility festival. While unnamed, it is a tradition for the village that has been going on for at least seven hundred years when the village was first formed. At the coming of age, young men take to being knights and act as chaperones for the young women that don the traditional fertility festival robes of the village. It takes about one week to get to the Goddess of Fertility’s Temple; the adults do not interfere as is tradition—everyone born native to the village has been to the temple once. Once there, they gain the favor of the Goddess of Fertility that blesses the land that would otherwise be overrun with desert from Muspell, swamp from the south, and otherwise bad weather from the north. As the village legends go, her blessing also keeps the monsters in the vicinity from entering the village; but it is just a legend. In fact it is a certain sentry that guards the village that keeps monsters at bay, but that is a story for another day.

The part Sweiza has always looked forward to was the dance. However, she has always been too young. Since fourteen she was even more eager, but could not find anyone that would be her dance partner. That was until she met Lester just shortly after the dance. He was a quiet boy in her school one year higher; he was known to speak up to say something stupid or comedic, but was otherwise rebuked by the teachers and chastised by fellow students. She never gave him much thought. There came a matter of a certain spritekin that stole his lunch one day and the two of them were quickly introduced. If an act of fate, she doesn’t know; the two have been friends ever since. He finally asked her to the dance about two months prior. She was overjoyed and said yes.

Now the two of them dance in a pre-rehearsed fashion like so many other people around them. The dance is traditional. It is slow; the teenage boys and girls take turns leading. Sweiza and Lester’s dance (like so many others) is slow and awkward to the music. The adults have had this mastered since the time they were younger; but it doesn’t deter the youth of the village any—this is something they intend to master as well in repeat fashion like so many others before.

—

The dance part of the festival lasted about two hours in total. Sweiza and Lester danced for at least three-quarters of it before finally calling it good. Sweiza had to stop due to her cramps getting to her. While it normally might bother her in her human form, when her berserker syndrome kicks in, it blocks out most of the pain; however, repeated and strenuous movements are enough for the cramps to eat through her otherwise berserker syndrome’s resistance.

Towards the end of the night Sweiza has taken a liking to the punch. However, as it turns out—like so many cultures across so many other countries around the world—someone spiked it. She is starting to show signs of being tipsy at the end of the night. It does nothing to help Lester—whom has chosen to behave like a gentlemen around her. However, when she tries to playfully hit him and lets out a giggle, he knows it is time to leave.

They leave shortly after eleven o’clock—the traditional time that the young boys and girls leave the festival; the young men and women leave around midnight, and then the older men and women typically leave around one o’clock with festivity ornaments and everything else here and there, to be left out until morning for everyone to clean up.

—

On the way home, Sweiza is a stammering mess. Her speech is slurred and getting worse. Lester has to walk her home with one of her arms around his neck and his arms supporting her.

He lets a sharp knock at the house to her door. As expected, her mother is there to answer it. She asks them if they had a good time; Lester is about to nod, but Sweiza starts speaking boisterously and giggling. She waves her hand at her mother—something about the dance not being that hard. Sweiza lets out a drunken groan as the dizziness hits her; her head hangs towards the ground.

“I think I will take care of her from here Lester. Thank you for not taking advantage of her… predicament.”

“No problem Madam Serif.”

After the girl is transferred to her mother—quite awkwardly—Melda turns around to escort her daughter upstairs and to her bed. Sweiza’s current drunken condition is why no one before the age of fifteen is allowed to enjoy the dance or party’s refreshments.

Melda stops just after turning around and her head turns to the boy still standing at the door.

“Good night Lester. Please be gentlemen and close the door after showing yourself out.”

Lester is of course heartbroken he can no longer act as a gentleman to chaperone his former dance partner. He is about to say something when Sweiza bursts out giggling.

“Res-ter, shoooow lll-iiick loccckkk-ssss! Go annnd sssh-ow! Haha!”

At those words Lester immediately goes to lock the door and then closes it from the outside. He lets out a puff of air. That girl is such a handful.

He can hear the familiar low beat of wings behind him. It is Sprite.

“You completed that job she wanted?”

Sprite shrugs. “Kind of.”

“I see, then it was an eventful night.”

The sprite nods once before flying up. He watches as the boy walks back to his house. Sprite isn’t allowed in the house, but has found a cranny underneath one of the roof eaves where he can sleep for the night. It isn’t much, but it helps protect him from predators. At some point he intends to confront Melda about letting him in the house permanently, but he knows what she will say, “No more helping yourself to the pantry!” He lets out a ‘bah!’ as he curls into a ball and his wings chitter once, before he falls asleep.

Once up in Sweiza’s room, Melda helps her daughter dump herself into a heap on her bed.

“Sanksyou ma-mmaa!” She lets out a giggle as her hands cradle together on her stomach. She makes an awkward motion with her elbows and lets out a laugh.

“Starla, you’re such a handful. But at least you had fun.”

She shakes her head at her daughter. Sweiza lets out a laugh.

Melda closes the door to the bedroom; the light from the ceiling lantern (just in the hall) comes to a small wedge shape and then a sliver before it disappears.

Sweiza lets out a giggle and then a faint murmur as sleep takes her. Today turned out better than she could have hoped; and she found her own knight to boot. Perhaps she will consider marrying that boy rather than being the ruffian the village has known her for.

Time will tell.