Xeranad

The full moon hung in the sky like a glistening fruit, peaking out from behind the clouds. The light cast through the openings illuminates a derelict church, the wooden frame barely standing, torn open like a rotting wound. Inside, a lone figure knelt in front of the altar, hands clasped in a silent, solemn prayer. White hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, reaching down to the rotting floorboards. Her clothing was simple: a white shirt that hung loosely from her shoulders, a black skirt slit along the right side, and a purple sash wrapped around her waist decorated with gold bangles. The sound of timber splintering echoed throughout the dilapidated chapel. A hairy beast, sharp teeth glistening with saliva in the moonlight, claws tearing grooves into the rotted floors, black fur poking out of torn linen and denim. A werewolf. The figure stood, her bare feet planted firmly on the creaking timber beneath her. She turned to face the creature, the moon revealing creamy brown skin