She waited, her breath catching in her throat. It was only a matter of time. The tension grew in her stomach, and she listened to the hum of a vehicle passing by on the street outside the window. Sitting up, she pulled the blanket up to her chin, watching the shadows shift across the doorway as the car's headlights passed. The sounds of the house grew louder in the following silence, the tick, tick, tick of the old clock on the wall, the hum of the refrigerator's motor kicking on.
Then she heard it. What she had anticipated and dreaded: the creak of bedsprings, the shuffling footsteps. She wouldn't have much longer to wait. Turning to the small form beside her, she took the girl by the shoulder and shook her firmly.
"Satan's ghost is coming," she whispered. The blonde's eyes flew open, staring widely at the older girl. The brunette gave her an encouraging nod, and she leaped from bed, bolting for the closet.
The footfalls were unsteady. From the way they'd carried on earlier in the night, she'd half hoped he wouldn't make it to their room tonight. She stared at those flickering shadows, stilling herself as they shifted again, adjusting to the contour of a figure in the doorway. A dog barked down the street, and she inhaled, closing her eyes.
His breathing was labored, and she could smell the whisky and cigarettes already. The heavy footfalls that followed made the wooden floorboards protest, muffled by the threadbare rug. She could feel his warmth as he approached the side of the bed.
"Waiting up for me?" His voice was breathy, barely audible. She nodded, faintly, keeping her eyes closed, her blankets clenched to her chest.
***
Ellette's eyes flew open and she sat up with a gasp. That particular memory hadn't come to her for quite some time. Not since she'd learned to escape in her dreams. She pulled her knees to her chin and sat wide-eyed, trying to shake the last lingering hints of that long-repressed horror. Her room in the worn, old farmhouse was veiled in gauzy shadows broken occasionally by the flicker of lights outside the window. She had to listen hard for any sound, eventually catching the lone cry of an owl. It was the wee hours of the night when everything was still.
She felt like a ghost of herself, a fading echo. Straining, she listened for the soft rhythm of the others that lived in the house. Gloria snored, a roaring, almost disquieting sound, before rolling over and settling. There were no ticking clocks, no ominous footsteps. Those memories belonged to another life, to a girl she was no longer. Unable to sleep, she made her way groggily down the hall, to the sliding glass door and the little balcony beyond. The icy chill of the night air cut into her, but she relished the sobering whip of it against her cheeks.
There was only a sliver of a moon tonight and it hung low in the west. Just a hint, a flicker of its pull, called to her. She was thankful it was so mild.
What was it, she wondered, that had called such a memory to mind? Staring at that faintly glowing beacon, a ghost of a memory called to her. She gave the little thread a pull, letting the memory slowly unravel.
***
There was a little girl whom the moon doted on. She lived with her mother, a sad and bitter woman, broken by time and the corrosive power of drink. They scraped out a living together, but the little girl knew there was something more. The moon told her so, each night.
When she thought life would break her, when she could take no more, the moon shone down on her.
***
"Having the dreams again?" Gloria asked, breaking Ellette's trance. She'd known the old woman had been there, waiting from the doorway for some time. It was easier to ignore her when she was silent. Now, she'd forced Ellette into some interaction.
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Ellette only shook her head, still watching the moon hanging low in the distance, just over the ridge of trees. She loved the view, the vastness of the sky, the many twinkling stars here in the country.
"You'll catch your death out here, come on in," the older woman encouraged, grandmotherly as always. The girl stood motionless, giving no acknowledgment of the request. "Ellette. In. Now, dear. I need to shut this door." This time, was more demand than request.
The pale, dark-haired girl complied. She shuffled back inside, shoulders hunched, eyes downcast. She was a waif, a wisp of a teen-aged girl, fairly tall, but nothing but skin and bones. Despite that, she was pretty in her way, if you could overlook those dark, haunted eyes.
***
"I will give you a white dress, to show the world that you are pure, a child of the moon."
She stared at the dress, as it formed over her slender form. The bodice was sleeveless and laced, a simple cut for a girl, not a child's dress but not a woman's either. The skirt was layered, silvery-white. The right side of the skirt was gathered up by a silk rose and ribbons. It was the most gorgeous clothing she'd ever laid eyes on. She'd never imagined so much as touching fabric of such quality, let alone wear it.
"I...I can't wear this!" she exclaimed. "What will mother or the people of the village say? They will say I stole it."
"No, no, my child. You will journey to me, your grandmother, the moon. Follow me each night, until you come to my little house in the woods where we will live together with your sisters."
***
"Are you keeping your journal?" Gloria asked. "It should help some, to get things out."
Ellette only nodded. Answers or any interaction from her were rare. Gloria still continued on, as if her silent, reluctant response was perfectly normal.
"Good. Do you think you can sleep?"
Ellette only shrugged.
"Well, let's get you back to bed. Hopefully, sleep will come." Gloria urged, taking the girl by the arm, leading her back to her room. Just outside the little room, Ellette shared with another girl, she paused. "There will be a new girl coming tomorrow. I believe you two shared a home at some point."
That caught Ellette's attention. She glanced up to study Gloria's features before feigning disinterest once more.
"I'm glad we were able to talk," Gloria continued. "I didn't want you to be surprised. Now get some sleep, love."
***
"Journey at night? I am just a girl!"
"By day you will be a girl, but at night, you are a wolf. The hunter, the guardian of the night."
She laughed then, though she knew she should not laugh at her goddess. "I am no wolf..."
"You will be, with my blessings, my dear. You must beware, though. Even as a wolf, there are those who will hunt you and wish to harm you."
The little girl nodded, still in disbelief. "What will it be like, to be a wolf?" she whispered.
"You will be beautiful, sleek, and swift. Silvery as the gown you wear. A shadow, a ghost slipping through the night, until you reach me. Your beloved grandmother. You will travel in wolf form, as if in a dream. Go to sleep as a girl, you will awaken as a wolf, to journey through the night."
***
She went quietly to her bed, slipping beneath the sheets. Escape would not come tonight. There would be no moon drawn journeys, as much as she could use it. Her mind wandered over the possibilities, who the girl could be. She'd gone through several different homes over the years. From foster homes, group homes, and then back 'home' again, she'd met many girls.
Thinking over those faces, the myriad of personalities, the memories began to light up in her thoughts. After a while, the comforting network of reflections let her mind wander, and to finally slip into sleep.
***
She nodded and curled up in the moon's comforting glow. What the moon goddess had said was true. She awoke mere moments later as a wolf. Through the night she would run, guided by the moon, in her full glory.
Each night, her travels were interrupted when she'd come across an animal in need. A little doe strayed too far from her herd, she would shoo the creature to her waiting companions. A squirrel frantically attempting to stuff acorns away for the winter was easily helped by her human hands, which appeared seamlessly and shifted back to a wolf's paws when she was finished. They were always simple tasks, these little interruptions she'd encounter. Each one seemed to involve a lesson, a good deed done.