Cry for the Moon
The Last Werewolf Hunter, Book One
By William Woodall
© 2009 by William Woodall
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When my mother and father forsake me,
Then the Lord will take me up.
- Psalms 27:10
I didn’t know anything special was going on when Nana Maralyn asked me to go walking with her in the apple orchard that day.
It was late one evening after supper was over, and we walked on tiptoes so we could listen to the crickets. Nana always used to tell me they were like people, and sang their prettiest songs whenever they were saddest, when they knew that winter was coming. She used to say stuff like that all the time. It was late October in Tennessee, so I guess they didn’t have much time left.
Nana kept quiet, but I could feel the soft crease in her palm where she rested her hand on my bare shoulder. Her claws were really sharp that night, digging into my skin like tacks, and I shifted my weight uncomfortably.