A moonlit meadow covered in pristine white snow. A lone silhouette of a little girl running towards the dark wood. She falters and trips, falling down onto the thick layer of fluff. It turns into cold water under her touch. A piercing chill envelops her body. Shocked, she opens her mouth. The snow smothers her scream. She flails her arms. The darkness swallows her whole.

Clemency extended her arm and watched snowflakes land on the palm of her hand. It used to be her favourite pastime this time of year. Every winter, her father told her that she would never find two identical shapes, no matter how long she would keep on looking. Every winter, she would try to prove him wrong. Of course, she was old enough now to know that he was right, but it remained her habit to do so. She watched the crystal patterns, each one a unique form, as they slowly melted away.

The stars above seemed to fade and go off one by one, heralding the nearing sunrise. She was sitting cross-legged on a tree stump in a clearing beside a large wooden hut. The building was little more than a woodsman’s lodge; it didn’t hold a candle to the old mansion further up the hill, yet this was where the notoriously reclusive Algernon Metcalfe of Stratbourne Hall preferred to reside.

Of course, when talking about Algernon, reside might have been too strong a word.

‘You’re back,’ Clemency heard a familiar low voice coming from the shadows to her right.

She lowered her arm and turned to face a wolf the size of a small mule, as it emerged from the forest.

Clemency always wondered if Algernon could still be called a werewolf. He certainly fit the essential definition of a man who could turn into a wolf, but the moon had no effect on him at all. It didn’t influence his form nor his disposition; he could choose to be an animal even during the day or a moonless night. In fact it was in this shape that he’d been spending most of his time, much to the horror of the few old servants living in Stratbourne Hall.

When man and wolf are in strife, vying for control, they give rise to the beast, he’d said once she questioned him about that back in the early days. If man and wolf realise they are one, nothing has power over them.

Unlike the help that kept the Metcalfe estate in order, Clemency thought that despite his threatening size Algernon was more likely to inspire trust than fear. There was a warm kind of wisdom in his amber eyes. The bulk of his body, while it projected an imposing presence, always seemed weirdly reassuring to Clem. It was a kind of strength that deep inside, on some instinctive level, she knew she could depend on.

‘One of these days,’ she said mockingly, ‘you’re going to need to change back to your human form, but you won’t remember how.’

‘I take it that your hunt was a success?’

‘It was. The man was absolutely feral, the moon had gotten the better of him.’ Clem uncrossed her legs to sit straight. ‘I was serious about you losing a grip on your human form, though. You’ve said it yourself: all skills fade away if they’re not sufficiently trained.’

Algernon walked past the tree stump and sat down beside the frost-covered stones that composed a fire ring in the middle of the clearing. Clem noted this was where he used to sit and tell her stories by the campfire when she was younger.

‘Feral means strong,’ Al stated matter-of-factly. ‘It also means dangerous. Tell me more about the hunt.’

‘First, I found a woman’s hat lying on the ground in an alley. Then I followed the tracks to an abandoned inn in the slum the city officials plan to demolish.’

Clemency took a deep breath. It had been a long time since she last attempted to lie to Algernon.

‘I masked my scent like you taught me and found him still feeding on the dead woman. He never saw me coming.’

Clem tried not to think about it as she was looking straight into Al’s eyes. She knew that if she’d wavered, if her voice trembled even for just a moment, Algernon would know.

He tilted his head.

‘It seems you’ve been a studious pupil,’ he said. ‘His death will make it easier for you to move about their society without drawing attention to yourself. Lady Averley’s carriage should be arriving to pick you up soon.’

‘Right,’ Clemency lowered her gaze, ostensibly counting the rings in the tree stump. ‘You must be glad you’ll finally be rid of me. No more of that little wretch who kept begging you to let her ride on your back.’

‘I’ve never called you a wretch.’

‘Right, you haven’t. But still, you must be looking forward to returning to your solitary life when I’m gone.’

Algernon was silent for a second. Then he stood up and turned towards the hut.

‘Inside, on my desk, you’ll find an oblong wooden box. Please, bring it out here.’

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Clemency froze, then for a moment which was shorter than a rabbit’s breath her face lit up with anticipation. She swiftly entered the cabin and then she emerged holding a rectangular maple container. It was about four inches tall and so wide that Clem held it by its gilded handles with partly extended arms. The Metcalfe family crest, Algernon’s coat of arms, was engraved on its polished lid. She set it on the tree stump.

‘You’re eighteen today, are you not?’ Al asked. ‘Go on, look inside.’

‘You remembered!’ Clem exclaimed with a glowing smile and lifted the lid.

Inside the box, lying on its purple velvet lining, Clemency could make out a shape of a sword under a piece of weathered, crimson cloth. She reached out and touched the cloth. She knew what it was.

A dense forest, its trees shooting up to the skies from under a thick layer of snow. A young girl shuffles forward into the darkness as though it was the moon itself which she was trying to escape. She trembles with cold and fear. Wrapped in her mother’s crimson shawl, the girl clutches it tightly, as if it could shield her from the frost and the beasts that await her in the dark. Another howl echoes through the night sky. Finally she sees it — a fiendish shape with smouldering embers where its eyes should be. The snow turns red with blood dripping from the monster's mouth. The girl feels the last smidgens of strength and hope leave her body. She falls and the darkness swallows her whole.

Clemency lifted the old silk shawl with great care.

‘It was my mother’s.’

‘You were wearing it when I found you. I hid it because it seemed to make your nightmares worse. You’re a brave, grown woman now. You should have it.’

‘I still have those nightmares…’

‘Yes. But you’re leaving to face them. Once you do, this memento will bring you comfort. It may help you recollect the better moments of your childhood.’

Clem gently ruffled the cloth with her hand. It was smooth to the touch, yet something about it sent shivers down her spine.

‘I think I know enough. I’m not sure I want to recall what happened that night.’

‘Whether you want it or not, there’s a piece of yourself in every memory. You may have to recover that one to conquer your fears and live your life to the fullest,’ Algernon stepped closer and looked her straight in the eye. ‘That is the path you have chosen, remember?’

‘Yes,’ Clemency spoke reluctantly, averting his gaze. ‘I don’t want to run or hide from anything. I want my nightmares to end. But there’s something I have to tell you.’

Algernon sat down and tilted his head. As far as Clem could tell, that was his most subtle emotional cue in his animal form. She hated it when she wanted to open up to him while she couldn’t get a glimpse of any of his feelings in return.

‘I lied to you,’ she confessed. ‘That werewolf, he smelled me out and we fought. I… I got scared for a moment, and then I became overconfident and fell into his trap. If it wasn’t for the silver dust, he might have killed me.’

‘I know,’ he replied.

‘You… know?’ Clem furrowed her eyebrows. ‘I don’t get it. Why didn’t you say something?’

‘You chose to lie to me and I decided to respect that.’

‘But, you’re my…’ she hesitated. ‘My caretaker… my teacher? In any case, shouldn’t you scold me for lying to you?’

‘Clemency,’ he said, ‘why did you decide to tell that lie?’

She lowered her head and slouched her shoulders as she assumed the pose of a penitent child.

‘I was afraid you’d be worried about me.’

‘And how would that impact you?’

Clem was staring at the old fire pit as a she slowly came to a realisation. When she met his gaze again, her eyes welled up with tears.

‘I was afraid… that you wouldn’t let me go.’

‘I was relieved that you told that lie. It means that it’s not merely my intuition that tells me you’re ready to leave — it’s also your decision. You are ready.’

Clemency brushed her tears away and straightened herself. She folded the shawl and put it beside the box. Then she reached inside again and grabbed the sword. It felt surprisingly light, despite its broad blade. Clem slashed the air with it, feeling more confident with each whoosh. The sword was fast and agile. Its hilt had a simple, narrow guard that allowed her great flexibility in her wrist while fencing. She kept on slashing and thrusting, while alternately stepping forwards and retreating backwards.

‘Do you like it?’ Algernon asked.

‘I love it!’ Clem finished her imaginary duel with a lunge and a thrust. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. What is that sword?’

‘It’s called a spadroon. I hear they fell out of fashion and most modern swords have heavy, curved blades. However, you won’t be fighting drunken soldiers. Agile beasts require an agile weapon to match them.’

The sword was perfectly weighted and generously coated with silver. It must have been very expensive, even though it didn’t have any purely aesthetic decorations that were typical of a custom-made weapon. Clem smiled as she realised that: the weapon was all Al. She brought the blade in for a closer examination and there on one side, close to the hilt, she saw a single engraving, the sword’s sole ornament: a wolf’s head that looked strangely familiar.

‘It’s beautiful.’

She swiftly put it back inside the box and wrapped her arms tightly around Algernon’s neck.

‘Thank you, Al,’ she said, knowing full well how much he hated that nickname.

‘Happy birthday, Clem.’

‘You know, it really wouldn’t kill you to turn back into your normal form at a moment like this.’

‘I consider this my normal form.’

‘One of these days, Al, I swear, you’ll forget how to be human.’

Before they parted ways, Algernon had one more nugget of wisdom to bestow upon her.

‘You’ll be pretending to be someone you’re not, in social circles where nobody says what they really think. Never feel guilty about telling a lie to shield yourself from the influence of others. You are the only person to whom you owe the truth.’

He could tell she was struggling to hold back tears when she turned around one last time on her way to Stratbourne Hall, where lady Averley’s carriage awaited to take her to the lady’s residence. She waved to Algernon and continued on her way.

He lied down beside the old fire ring, taking in the silence, the calm and the stillness that would now again, after taking care of a lively young girl for nearly ten years, be his closest companions.

It took moments like these for Algernon to truly appreciate the blessing of being able to maintain his animal form. If she could see how he really felt, it would make it all the more difficult for her to leave.

More wolf than a man, he doesn’t take kindly to strangers encroaching on his territory. He's killed many. And yet something about that young girl freezing to death on a winter night gives him pause. It’s her reaction at the sight of him. She doesn’t try to run, scream or fight. Without so much as a whimper, she just falls to her knees. It strikes him how cruelly unnatural it is, that a child should give up on life like this. He makes a decision, fully aware it will change him forever. He hopes he won’t regret it.