Clair de Lune

Chapter One

The First Winter

I remember lying in the snow, growing cold, surrounded by wolves.

They were biting, snarling, and whining, worrying their way into me. They smelt of earth, burning leaves, and wet dog, a combination that both pleased and terrified me. Ice glistened off their ruffs and their opaque breaths were visible in the frigid winter afternoon. Hot, salty tongues melted into my skin as jagged teeth carelessly tore at my clothes. They snapped and growled on top of me, snagging through my hair and making frightful noises.

I could have screamed, but I didn't. I could have fought and squirmed, but I didn't either. I just lied there, watching the winter skies grow gray above me.

One wolf nuzzled his nose into my cheek, inhaling my scent, and casting a dark shadow over me. His wide eyes looked into mine while the others jerked me this way and that.

I tried to hold onto his eyes as long as I could. Gray. The first thing I had registered was their unique color, beautiful up close. They reminded me of an overcast storm, clouds heavy and dark with the promise of rain. The musky earth, damp with the memory of it. I like the rain.

I wanted to reach out and touch him but my hands stayed frigid and cold, curled against my body. I let out a small moan as the wolves started to become suffocating, closing in, too close. Then, he was gone and I was smothered by the wolves, their prickling furs were in my mouth and nostrils.

Panic unfurled when I realized I could no longer breathe. They were killing me. There was no sun; no light. I was dying and I couldn't see the sky above me. The wolves were dragging their teeth across the crescent of my neck. It's so cold.

I still remember his eyes. I hold on.

x L x

They snatched the boy off his backyard swing, dragging his body into the woods, creating a shallow track in the snow from his world to mine. I watched it happen. I didn't stop it.

It had been the coldest, harshest winter of my life. I wasn't fully matured; soft with puppy fat and tripping over too big paws, seeking the elders for comfort. Naïve, impulsive, and hungry. I was quick to fall into my animalistic instincts, to let the wolf take over.

Day after day under the indifferent sun, I began to lose my humanity. Hunger became a cruel, insatiable master that constantly burned and gnawed. That month the earth was dead, nothing moved, the landscape was a barren wasteland devoid of color that held no sustenance. One of us had been shot trying to snag scraps off someone's back porch, the rest stayed in the woods and slowly starved, waiting to return to our old bodies.

Until they found him and attacked.

They hid in the snarl of brush that surrounded his home, watching and waiting, their flanks shuddered in eagerness. The boy sat on his swing, with dainty legs tucked beneath him. My mouth watered at the thought of snapping them like twigs beneath my teeth.

They attacked and I saw them tug the boy's body this way and that, wearing away snow beneath them. Their muzzles smeared bloody and wanting more, easily trading his life for theirs. I still didn't stop it.

I was hungry too.

I hung back, whining and whimpering, watching them tear into him, ankle deep in snow, fighting myself. Hunger told me to join them but my humanity lingered, it wouldn't let me. This wasn't right.

The boy smelled warm, alive. Why didn't he move? If he was alive, why didn't he struggle?

One of us violently jerked his head, tearing off a piece of fabric with a loud rip. I could smell the boy's blood, warm and vibrant, in this dead world. My stomach twisted-a knife diving deeper and turning- I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten. I wanted to push through the wolves and join them, to pretend I couldn't smell his humanness or hear his soft moans, to pretend that this wasn't murder.

He was so small under our wilderness. Fragile thing built upon fawn legs and tissue-paper skin.

With a snarl and show of teeth, I pushed through the wall of wolves until I towered over the boy's unmoving body. His warm brown eyes were glazed over as they watched the graying skies. Was he dead? I nuzzled his cheek, trying to find any signs of life. He smelled of warm sugar, butter, and detergent- a world far from mine.

His honey-brown eyes slowly rolled to meet mine. I held his gaze. In his warm orbs, there was so much brutal honesty.

I recoiled, trembling and seizing. Changing.

His eyes were on my eyes. His blood was on my face.

His life.

My life.

The pack fell back from me, wary. They growled, rejecting me, I was no longer one of them. With a snap at my direction, they turned back to their prey. He was so beautiful, fragile, a tiny, bloody angel in the snow. He looked even more peaceful with his eyes closed, no longer struggling amongst the fray. They were going to destroy him.

I saw him and I felt something like I've never felt before. The wolves were finally going in for the kill.

And I stopped it.

x Light x

I would see him again after that. Always lingering at the edge of the woods in our backyard, his eyes remained steady on me as I would change the birdfeeder or take out the garbage but he never came close. To my parent's horror, I would still sit on my swing. I waited for him there but he didn't wait for me.

He was an unpredictable creature who never ran on a schedule. Sometimes I wouldn't see him for weeks. But I knew he would always return. So I waited.

As I became older, I outgrew the safety of my backyard and became more daring. I would gather raw meat scraps and cautiously approach him, meat in hand, palm facing up, eyes lowered. No threat as I attempted to speak his language. Curiously, he would watch but if I got too close he would always melt into the undergrowth and disappear.

Patience, I would remind myself. Patience.

I was never afraid of him. As the years passed, I grew and so did he until he was more than large enough to knock me off my swing and strong enough to drag me into the woods all by himself. But the ferocity of his body wasn't in his eyes.

Wolves roamed the woods of my Washington backyard but he wasn't like them. No, he was different.

Built on long leggy lines, he towered over any regular wolf by a few feet. He was a creature of elegance with a long, thin snout, a slender face, and a lithe, ebony frame. I remembered his gaze with storm-cloud eyes that held so much intelligence, and I couldn't bring myself to fear him. He would never hurt me.

And I wanted him to know I wouldn't hurt him.

I waited. And waited.

And he waited too, but I wasn't sure for what. This pattern went unbroken for six years: the wolves' haunting presence in the woods and their even more haunting disappearances. I didn't really think much about their oddness. I thought they were wolves.

Only wolves.

xXx

L Lawliet flipped through a worn, dogged-ear book as he managed the cash register at 'The Woodsy Nook' bookstore. Warm, summer sunlight streamed in and bleached the books on the shelves. The smell of aging, unread words permeated the air as Lawliet sipped his over-sweetened iced tea and enjoyed his reading. This is what he loved about being human.

The 'ding' of the store's door bell startled him and brought his dulled senses alive. A group of teenaged boys entered the once peaceful bookstore. Lawliet decided they were too rowdy to need his help so he turned back to his novel and nonchalantly sipped his tea. He doesn't give them much thought except that they could be quieter.

But then, through the cacophony of laughter and inappropriate boyish jokes, he heard a familiar voice. A melodic tenor, warm and articulate, rose above the noise.

"Guys, can you be a little quieter. This is a bookstore after all." A young auburn haired teen said with a hint of frustration his voice.

Lawliet recognized the voice immediately. It had to be him.

From where he sat, crouched behind the cashier's counter, Lawliet tilted his head up slightly, and risked a peek at the boys.

It was him.

Lawliet heart beats violently against his chest. The others continued talk but in a more hushed tone, now they're gesturing towards a paper crane Lawliet had made and hung above the children's section. The brunette boy detached from the group as he scanned over the covers of books, looking for an escape.

He had imagined meeting him before but not like this. He had planned out so many different scenarios in his head, but now that he is finally in front of him, Lawliet couldn't find for the life of him what to do. Lawliet briefly contemplated whether he should dart out of the room but no, this was his chance.

The boy steeled himself for whatever may come next as he watched the boy skim through a book he had picked up. From the look of it, it what an intelligent text filled the complex wording and theories, a book not many would have picked up. This piqued Lawliet's interest.

The boy was buried in his book as he walked about the store; he gets closer and closer to the counter. Lawliet wanted nothing more than to hide. Now, that the boy's in front of him, he seemed so breathtakingly close. Wow, is he beautiful. His warm scent is all Lawliet could breathe.

Lawliet heard his heart thud and felt adrenaline kick in. He was right in front of him. Just one more step and they'll be only little more than a foot apart. Slowly, Light closed his book and raised his head but his friends caught his attention.

"Hey, Light! Over here, isn't this the book you wanted?" One of the boys called, waving a clearance stickered novel in his hand.

Light smiled and walked over, they begun talk once more but this time Light made an attempt to seem interested. Lawliet sucked in a slow breath as he watched Light examine books with the group of boys. His body language, the tilt of his shoulders, the small smile on his lips, indicated only polite interest. Through the store's blinds, sunlight rays highlighted his silken locks, creating a halo of light around him like a crown.

"Hey."

Lawliet jumped and brought his attention to the boy in front of him. Not Light.

The boy had a face filled with acne and smelled of sweat. Lawliet wanted to recoil but offered a poor 'how can I help you' smile. It ended up looking a bit deranged.

"How much for this?" The acne-faced teen asked as he slid a book to Lawliet's side of the counter.

Lawliet scanned the price and announced the total with a monotone voice, "$13.50."

"Jeez, that price for a paperback?"

Lawliet said nothing when the boy pulled out his wallet to pay. Cash in hand, he turned to face his group.

"Hey guys, come on we got to go already! I need to be home early!"

Like obedient dogs, they headed toward the counter and placed their books on it for Lawliet to ring up. Light stayed in the law section of the store, reading the book's spines with a pondering expression.

As Lawliet rung up the items, he didn't take his gaze off the boy. 'Look at me. Just look at me, I'm here.'

Acne boy opened the door with a ding and made an impatient sound at the herd. One of the boys, with long, choppy blonde hair looked at Lawliet with a wary stare as he continued to watch Light browse through the books. Lawliet knew he wasn't hiding his staring but couldn't stop nor did he really care.

The blonde haired boy frowned before exiting the store. One of them said, "Light, come on. We have to go."

Lawliet felt his heart beat even more painfully as Light started towards the door. 'Please, just turn this way. Just look at me.'

He waited.

Light, the only person in the world Lawliet ever wanted to talk to, traced an elegant finger across a book's spine before turning to leave, without ever looking back.

xXx

Light Yagami never thought much about his incident with the wolves until Sam Gulley was killed.

He found out when he arrived home after school. He had entered the door, hung up his coat, and removed his boots, to find his family gathered around the television, grim-faced and tense. The television's screen displayed the local news and an insincerely sincere reporter. A map of their county appeared next a blurry photo of a wolf on the upper left corner.

"What's wrong?" He asked, warily walking over to his family.

They didn't answer, too engrossed to even realize the teen had uttered a word.

"The body was found just beyond the neighborhood of Boundary Wood. The condition he was found in indicated a wolf attack. An autopsy is currently-"

'Oh, so that's it,' Light mentally sighed as he began to leave the sobriety of the living room.

"It was close to here. Where they found him." Light's mother turned to him with a haunted expression. Light knew what she was currently thinking: six years ago, a little boy named Light Yagami was playing on his swing till he was dragged into the woods by wolves; a little boy bloodied and close to death.

His parents never really moved on from the incident. His father tried to forget by busying himself with case work, his mother developed a minor case of OCD, keeping the house sterile, and painting in her art studio when she had free time.

"I can't believe it," his mother went on, "Just on the other side of Boundary Wood that's…that's where he was killed."

"Or died," Light said, a feeble attempt at defending the wolves.

His mother frowned at him, slightly frazzled." What?"

"He could've just passed out by the side of the road and been dragged into the woods while he was unconscious."

His mother's attention went back to the screen, along with the rest of the family. She shook her head. "They attacked him, Light."

Light glanced out the window at the woods; it was early September in Washington. The leaves were like a fiery abstract as the world turned over, beauty before death to be reborn again. He thought about the wolves. After so many years watching them, Light had learned all their faces and their personalities. There were a few that could have done this.

Amongst the pack, was a scrawny, sickly-looking wolf, with a scraggly coat and one foul, running eye. His whole body shouted of illness and the rolling whites of his wild eyes whispered of a diseased mind. Light could have imagined him attacking again.

And then there was the white she-wolf. She way up in the pack, and held a savage, restless beauty about her. Images of her pearlescent coat, intertwining with the others' earth-toned colors ran through Light's mind. He could imagine her too, attacking a human. But the others? They were just silent ghosts in the woods.

They couldn't have done this.

Light's attack was an isolated incident. It was a record cold winter, the deer population was at an all-time low, and Light was an easy target. They attacked not out of aggression but of hunger and the need to survive. They didn't even carry out their attack, leaving Light bloodied and injured, but alive.

Despite everything, Light grew to love them.

Their life became his as he recorded them through photographs and sketches. His room was littered with their images. For his tenth birthday, he asked his mother for a case of graphite pencils and a sketchbook for the sole purpose of drawing the wolves. The pages quickly ran out and the pencils turned to mere stubs in no time, the fruit of their work hung on his walls to be replaced with photographs and better versions of themselves.

"Light, do you mind cooking dinner tonight?" His mother interrupted his thoughts. Her face was apologetic, yet hopeful.

"It's no problem," Light replied like the good son he was. He was used to being burdened with the responsibility of cooking dinner. It seemed that everyone was always too busy to do anything around the house.

His mother smiled, relieved, and got up to give him a peck on the cheek before rushing off to her art studio. "Thank you!" She exclaimed as she ran up the stairs like an overly excited child.

The teenager watched her disappear with a smile. If she wasn't happy right now she would have been miserable, haunted by memories of six years ago. Cooking dinner was the least Light could do.

With a grunt Light's father, Soichiro, rose from his over-stuffed recliner and shut off the television.

"Thank you," he said, hand on Light's shoulder, words unsaid in his eyes, before turning to leave to his study.

"No problem," Light murmured. He found himself alone in the living room, abandoned. He let out a long sigh before getting to work.

He walked over to the kitchen's fridge and pulled out ingredients for dinner. He slapped a slab of beef onto a cutting board and began to slice it while he let his mind run astray. His wolf was the first thing to come to mind. For a moment, he once again contemplated the possibility that he was responsible for the death of Sam Gulley. The thought was quickly snubbed out of Light's head. No, his wolf wasn't a man killer. He would never hurt anyone.

After chopping up all the ingredients and placing the stew to simmer on the stove, Light rushed to grab his coat from the hooks on the wall, scraps of meat in his hand. He pulled open the sliding door to the deck, cool air bit his cheeks and the tips of his ears, a reminder that winter was coming. From the deck, he surveyed the woods in search of his wolf.

Light found him, watching from behind the swing set, slightly hidden behind the trees, nostrils sniffing toward the meat in his hand. The piece of beef felt cold and slick in Light's hand as he cautiously walked over to him, crunching out the brittle leaves beneath his feet.

Above him, the skies were a violent pink with purple and bleeding slashes of orange. The world outside him was a stark contrast to the comfort of his home. It was an untamed land where creatures fought to survive and did not possess the luxuries he had.

As Light neared his wolf, he caught sight of something that made him stop dead in his tracks and his heart jolt. The wolf's chin was crusted with blood. Some of it was splattered across his paws and chest.

The wolf's nostrils still moved, smelling the meat in the boy's hand. Light wasn't sure if the smell of food lured him out of the woods or the familiarity of his presence. He walked a few steps more-closer than he had ever been.

Light was near enough to reach out and touch his ebony fur. Or brush the stain of red on his snout.

The boy wanted so badly for the blood to belong to some deer or be his, a scratch earned by a scuffle, and not from Sam.

"Did you kill him?" Light whispered.

The wolf didn't disappear at the sound of his voice, as expected. Instead, he stood still with gray eyes carefully watching Light's face.

"It's all over the news," the boy continued as if the wolf understood, "Everyone's talking about it. They say wolves did it. Did you do it?"

The wolf stared at him for a minute longer with wide, unblinking eyes before he closed them. After six years of an unblinking gaze, they were finally closed in an almost human grief; brilliant eyes closed, head ducked, and tailed lowered.

It made Light's heart ache.

Slowly, the boy moved, approaching the wolf. He didn't stir except for the flinch of his long ears, acknowledgment of Light's presence. His beautiful eyes were still closed. Silently, Light dropped the meat at the wolf's great paws. He was close enough to smell his wildness and feel his warmth.

Then, Light did what he had always wanted to do-he put his hand onto his dense, ebony ruff, and when he didn't move, buried his fingers beneath it to feel the downy fluff underneath. With a muffled groan, the wolf placed his head against the boy's hand, eyes still closed. It went everything against his instincts. He should have run way before the boy got close.

Light couldn't believe what was happening. After so many years of watching his wolf come and go, after all the attempts to get close. He was finally here. Light held him as if he was a friendly, family dog but his sharp, wild scent didn't let forget what he really was. After a few moments, Light felt his heart relax and his muscles become less tense. The fear of the wolf snapping back at him long forgotten. There was a sense of peace between the two.

But it did not last.

Some movement behind the trees caught Light's eyes. Hidden behind the snarl of bush and trees, the white she-wolf watched them. Silent and graceful, a lurking predator, full of fangs and full of malice. He felt a rumble beneath his palm as he realized his wolf was growling at her. Instead of falling back to the woods like any other wolf would have done, she haughtily moved closer. The ebony wolf twisted in Light's arms to snap at her, causing the boy to jump backwards in surprise.

She never growled back and somehow that made Light feel even more uneasy. Her dark eyes bore into Light's – wanting and claiming.

The ebony wolf continued a low rumble, urging her to leave, while he nuzzled Light back to the safety of his home. Light let the wolf push him back, feeling an electric, tangible danger in the air. His heart was beating like a bird's flapping wings, leaden dread coiled in his belly.

The she wolf's gaze never left Light as she watched from the edge of the woods as slowly and carefully climbed up the steps of his deck. Light's hand found the handle and he pulled it open to step inside. As soon as Light stood in the safety of his home, the she-wolf darted forward and snatched the piece of meat he left outside.

Her feral gaze met Light's again from behind the other side of the glass door. She held it for what seemed to be an eternity before slipping back into the woods like a spirit.

Light's wolf hesitated at the fringe of woods. His gray eyes looking at the human with a certain longing, and after a while, he too slipped seamlessly into the trees.

Light placed his hand against the chilled glass, staring into the darkness of the woods.

x L x

I could still smell him on my fur. Oh, so sweet and intoxicating. I'm drowning in it. It made my blood sing and my heart leap.

My instincts screamed of danger, reminding me of that winter of six years ago.

I tried to stay away, diluting myself to a longer distance, a feeble attempt at preventing his overdose. But I always found my way back to him. He was my summer in winter, warmness in a dead world. My Light.

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A/N: Updated on 11/8/14

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