Werewolf Skin

31

I froze for a moment, horrified by the sight of my aunt and uncle running toward us so furiously, so desperately.

“Don’t move!” Aunt Marta pleaded. “We need those skins!”

My legs refused to budge. But then Hannah gave me a hard shove. And we both took off.

We ran wildly, across lawns and empty lots. We cut behind someone’s house, then dove through an opening in their tall hedge.

My aunt and uncle stayed close behind, running full speed, and calling out as they ran, “Give us our skins! Give us our skins!”

Their breathless voices rang in my ears. Their words became an eerie chant.

“Give us our skins! Give us our skins!”

We must have run for blocks. It all became a dark blur to me. My heavy wolf paws thumped the ground. I struggled to keep my balance. Sweat poured down my face inside the heavy fur.

Another turn. More dark backyards. And then the tilting, tangled trees of the woods rose up in front of us.

Hannah and I dove into the woods, darting between the trees and tall weeds. And still my aunt and uncle came after us, chanting, chanting their desperate plea:

“Give us our skins! Give us our skins!”

We scrambled up a low hill lined with evergreens. Pinecones slid under my heavy paws and rolled down the hill. Hannah stumbled and dropped to her knees. She scrambled on all fours to the top.

“Give us our skins! Give us our skins!”

The cry grew shrill and breathless.

And then-suddenly-everything seemed to stop.

As if the whole world had stopped spinning.

As if even the wind had stopped blowing on top of that little hill.

I could feel the silence.

Uncle Colin and Aunt Marta had stopped their chant.

Panting, Hannah and I turned to face them.

“The moon-” Hannah whispered breathlessly to me. She pointed. “The full moon, Alex. It’s so high. It must be at its peak.”

And as she whispered those words, my aunt and uncle dropped to their knees. They tossed back their heads. As the white light of the moon washed over their faces, I saw their pain, their horror.

They opened their mouths in long, mournful howls.

Their howls became hideous screams. They tore at their hair with both hands. Shut their eyes. And screamed, screamed in agony.

“Hannah-what have we done?” I cried.