Lycanthra

Moon waxing full above the murk of the forest casting a bluish tinge upon clusters of bare bone branches, she finds herself in a pool of light spreading her fingers watching crimson polish crack and split as her nails lengthened into claws and felt the fangs thrust her limbs fighting the constraints of her leather jacket until she finally caved to animalic instinct and tears through them feeling her back bristle in an icy gust as she stretches towards a firmament of pitch studded with stars towards the moon whose phases commanded her own, her lips pursed instinctively into a howl that pierces the night air and rattled the surrounding trees to their foundations.

She has learned to embrace the curse.