Sunset ^beta

April the 28th, 1706

Out in the woods beyond Tottenham, where the tolling of the church bell signalling eight o’clock could barely be heard, stood Nell Jackson.

It had been nine months now since Nell had returned to the village she had grown up in; six full moons that she had suffered; and five of those mornings after the full moon, she had woken up with unexpected company.

Tonight would be the seventh time she transformed into a wolf; and if her company arrived as planned, it would be her sixth full moon that she would spend with Sofia – the sister of Thomas Blancheford, the very man who had attacked Nell eight months ago and cursed her to her fate.

The Blanchefords had always seemed so much further away from the village than just a couple miles. They weren’t known for their warmth or hospitality; even their few servants were tight with information about the family, and notoriously resistant to gossip when they passed through the village, running errands for their masters. Nobody knew why the family was so distant, so secretive, besides Nell and her family – the only ones who believed her when she said it had been Thomas who attacked her on that late-summer night.

Like Nell, Sofia was a widow, and this fact only made their situation queerer – their situation being that ever since November, they had been together every morning following the full moon, no matter how far away Nell tried to get from Broadwater Hall, the Blancheford family’s home.

‘The moon, it plays tricks on us,’ Sofia had said, that first time. ‘I must have gotten separated from Thomas, then thought you him.’

That would have been believable, had it not kept happening – had they not woken in each other’s arms the following month. Even worse was the light, exuberant feeling Nell had every time she woke up and saw her; a feeling which, more than once, had urged her to brush the woman’s black hair out of her face. Nor was their situation helped by the affection which Sofia’s eyes always held the moment they opened to see her. Whether they wanted it or not – and Nell, for one, did not want it at all – it seemed to take longer each morning to come to their senses with every passing month.

Despite all the artificial tenderness that plagued them, Sofia Wilmot was a stranger to Nell – and Nell wished it had stayed that way, for everything she learnt about her only made her feel worse about the connection between them.

What Nell did know about the woman was that up until just five months ago, Sofia had spent every full moon caged in the cellar of that big, awful house of hers – or that was, at least, until she married, around the same time as Nell had run off with a captain to escape the mundanity of Tottenham.

Pretty as Sofia was, it still seemed absurd to Nell that anyone would marry her. It was one thing to dupe the townspeople, who rarely saw the family, anyway; it was another entirely to deceive someone she must have slept next to every night – or at least, most nights that month. Did he wonder why she tossed and turned with increasing violence as the moon waxed? Or did she find excuses to go away each month, with trips like clockwork to visit home? She was certainly pale enough to pass as someone chronically sickly.

Unless Lord Wilmot had been one, too. Maybe all the toffs were. That would be a laugh, all right.

But Nell didn’t know, nor did she particularly care. The less she thought about that family, the better. The less room she allowed for Sofia inside her head, the more tolerable her new life would surely be.

Besides, whatever kept drawing them together under the full moon, it was clear that they both found each other lacking in desirable qualities upon their return to their real bodies and minds.

As a human, Sofia was insufferable to be around. She was stubborn in a quiet way, often seeming to use her silence to try to make Nell feel foolish for shouting and showing her agitation plainly. It was obvious that she thought she was above Nell, despite being born and raised a literal bitch; surely just one of her family’s many ugly secrets.

Sofia was quite the sight each morning: clothed in nothing but dirt, gore-blood, and visible disdain, yet still always trying to tell Nell what to do. Needless to say, Nell did not take her very seriously at all – a fact which made Sofia even more irritable.

Despite their mutual animosity, Sofia hadn’t seemed overly surprised to have woken up in a woman’s embrace, even if she was clearly uncomfortable with it. The woman had stared silently at her for a moment, shut her eyes as if praying, and then seemed resigned, rather than repulsed.

Truthfully, Nell would have been far more shocked if she had woken up in the arms of a man, even one she liked far more than Sofia Wilmot; it would have gone against what she had come to understand about herself many years ago.

Perhaps Sofia too had figured out the same for herself. Nell wasn’t sure whether it would have been better to learn such a thing before or after getting married.

She didn’t intend to discuss it with her. It was bad enough that they kept waking up with each other, curled up like lovers, without thinking too deeply about what it meant. There was no need for her to know anything about Sofia’s life beyond their shared condition. In the recent mornings when they had woken up together, they had barely spoken as they traipsed through the woods.

But it was the last full moon – near the end of March, the first morning they weren’t freezing their arses off – when they had woken to find themselves tangled together so closely – so damningly intimately – that they finally were forced to discuss their options.

It had been Sofia who suggested they meet up in advance.

‘We’ll end up with each other by daybreak, no matter what, so we might as well...’

When Nell told her to go fuck herself, Sofia had pressed past Nell’s initial protests, reached past her rapid human heart, right to the creature within her which Thomas had brought into being so violently.

‘I want you to be with me from the start next time. If we do that, we should not wander so far in search of each other – thereby, not endangering as many people.’

Her words, despite the logical way she said them, had made Nell shudder. Her body had still ached and she had wanted little more than to lie back down in the leaf litter. What changed her mind was the disturbing realisation that the only thing she wanted more than to lie there alone in recovery was for Sofia to lie there with her, wordless and tangled with her again.

That deep want for Sofia’s company hadn’t waned as time passed, but rather, it seemed to only grow more desperate as the moon waxed to full again. It was upsetting to feel such –

Nell grimaced and pulled her coat over her tighter. ‘Desire’ was too unpleasant a word to even let herself finish her thought with.

Yet Nell stood there in the woods, waiting on tenterhooks for that pale, pretty face to float towards her through the forest’s gloom.

‘Come on, Sofia,’ she sighed. ‘Let’s just get this fucking over with.’

To her credit, Sofia didn’t make her wait longer than a few minutes after that. She came like a spectre through the trees, wearing only a shift – a sight which made Nell panic.

‘Stop,’ Nell called out before she could get closer – before she might see unwanted detail through the thin linen. ‘What are you thinking, dressing like that? This ain’t some sort of...’

It was. Nell knew it was, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

‘Why are you fully-dressed?’ Sofia asked, looking at her with equal distaste. ‘You’ll only ruin your clothes.’

‘Stay back,’ Nell warned, not realising she had begun to walk towards Sofia. Sofia noticed, though, and rolled her eyes.

‘It’s nearly time.’ Sofia’s voice was soft and distant, like in a dream. ‘Take off your clothes, then you might keep them intact.’

Nell turned her face, but found that she couldn’t fully look away. Her hair was standing on end. Everything in those woods seemed too sharp – the sounds, the smells; everything besides Sofia's voice, which was low and calm. She spoke as if she was being reasonable and Nell wasn’t, yet here she had come into the cold woods in only her undergarment.

She had come too close now. She was near enough that Nell could see far too much of her through the thin linen illuminated by the bright moonlight cutting through the canopy of leafless trees.

It bothered her, the realisation that she could smell Sofia from several feet away, upwind of her, even through the strong scent of soil and sap and far-off rotting animals. The scent was not of soap or flowers; it was her, and as much as she didn’t want it to, it made it better.

‘I don’t...’ Nell said in weak protest. ‘There’s still time before it happens.’

Now Sofia had gotten close enough to whisper, her words unhindered by the crickets surrounding them: ‘Just take them off, Nell.’

It couldn’t have been more than three times that she had heard Sofia say her name. Not once had she called her Nelly, and from this, an unbidden fondness bloomed within her breast; and almost immediately, it twisted rapidly into horrid, unambiguous desire.

She knew it was only the moon that had her so bewitched, not Sofia herself, and that made it seem almost all right when she took that final step towards the woman. Her hands shook badly at her sides, palms backwards as if she was trying to hold back Sisyphus’s boulder behind her; were she to let go, it would press them into the earth, crushing them like dead flowers between the pages of a book.

‘It’s not as if there is anyone around to see you.’

‘Aren’t you cold?’ Nell asked her, changing the topic; her voice was equally quiet, for the moment seemed to demand it.

‘Not at all. Not tonight.’

There was a breathlessness to her voice that made Nell examine her more closely. Reluctantly, she looked down at Sofia’s chest and saw that she was indeed breathing quite fast; they did not seem to be the breaths of someone who had just come running, but rather those shallow breaths taken by someone in pain.

It felt too intimate a thing to notice about her – especially when she was wearing so little clothes.

‘Everything –’ Sofia stopped, as if she had to catch her breath. ‘– is different tonight.’

‘Do you mean tonight specifically or during the –’

‘Yes. I mean – Yes.’ Sofia shut her eyes, looking frustrated. ‘By which I mean –’

‘Not quite so clever tonight, are ya?’ Nell asked with a hard, defiant smile. ‘Something’s got your tongue, don’t it? And it’s not a cat.’

Sofia gave something dangerously close to a pout.

Good. Be annoyed, Nell thought. Keep your bloody distance.

As if she had read her mind, and specifically sought to defy her, Sofia took that final step towards Nell, until she was right in front of her. She seemed to try to gather herself, staring at the collar of Nell’s coat. Nell watched the woman take a deep breath, then felt its release sweep down the neck of her shirt. When her eyes rose to meet Nell’s again, they seemed clearer, and there was a familiar annoyed look in them.

‘You don’t know what it’s like.’

‘Oh, because nine months of this couldn’t possibly give me any idea of how rotten it feels, all that twisting and ripping of your insides.’ Nell laughed unhappily. ‘Of having to lie all the time, always worrying about hurting people.’

‘Would you prefer a cage?’

Something in Nell bristled at the suggestion. The thought of being thrust inside one made her want to thrash and scream and bite and –

It felt as if the world slowed as Sofia’s hand reached out and landed high upon her chest, close to the collar of her coat. Her arms felt leaden and the urge to slap her hand away was suppressed by a wave of warm, sweet fatigue.

‘You’d be safe there.’

‘Where?’

‘Locked away.’

When Nell again began to agitate at the idea, Sofia told her firmly, ‘Relax.’

She narrowed her eyes at Sofia.

‘What’s your excuse, then? Isn’t it bad enough that people’ve got to worry about me and Thomas running around?’

‘I’ve not attacked anyone –’

‘As far as you know.’

Sofia stopped to glare at her.

‘If I’m locked in a cellar at home, I can’t keep Thomas away from the village.’

Sofia spoke as if what she was saying was perfectly reasonable – as if any bloody part of their situation could be.

‘Well, you seem to be on top of that. Fantastic work guarding him, Sofia,’ Nell said sarcastically. Sofia’s eyes hardened as Nell continued: ‘I’m sure he’s halfway down to the damned village now to rip apart another man’s horse, like he did Halliday’s.’

‘The villagers know by now to lock their animals away.’ Sofia’s eyes were shut as she spoke, and her thumb rubbed at a spot on Nell’s coat. ‘If any of them are foolish enough after nearly a year of this, and after my father’s instructions –’

‘Your father!’ Nell interrupted, her disdain for the man spilling over. ‘Useless! None of us has bloody seen him since – what? – autumn? When he gave that sorry excuse for a speech. Right, because nothing says unity like holing yourself – your family – up inside your fancy house, ignoring people who are actually suffering.’

‘You know we suffer!’ Sofia snarled. ‘You’ve felt it every month since October! You cannot imagine what it’s like to have been put through such trials your entire life!’

Nell turned her scowl upon the shadows of the forest, rather than at the woman whose hand seemed to burn her through her clothes.

‘Three hundred.’ Sofia seemed to wait for Nell to look at her before explaining, ‘That’s how many full moons I’ll have lived through by the end of this year. My father’s lived through more than twice that number.’

Nell turned back to Sofia, feeling sickness settle inside her stomach, then flood her innards with panic. Three hundred. It was hard enough to brace herself for the pain each coming month; the thought that she might go through such pain hundreds more times felt unimaginably cruel.

‘That’s since you was born?’

Sofia nodded, her expression empty.

Nell wasn’t sure of Sofia’s exact age, but the woman couldn’t have been much older than her. It hurt Nell to imagine any child having to live with such an affliction – even the sour-faced little girl she vaguely remembered passing through the village, who never had a word to spare for any of her fellow children who tried to speak to her.

‘Does it ever get easier?’

Those pale blue eyes lifted to meet Nell’s, and for a second, Nell was too lost in them to see Sofia shaking her head.

‘How did it even happen to your family? When did it start?’

‘We don’t know. It isn’t exactly a thing we’ve wanted to be recorded in our family history. We know only that it cannot be cured.’

‘It’ll never get easier, and it will never go away...’ Nell felt hollow as she repeated the new information – the killers of hope. ‘Wonderful.’

‘And it always –’ Sofia cut herself off, looking almost slyly at Nell, as if trying to judge Nell’s reaction when she said, ‘You’ll not be able to have normal children, either.’

She couldn’t help but laugh a little at the thought of her having kids, and in response, Sofia’s eyes went soft. The way her lips curved gently into a smile distracted Nell momentarily from her own miserable fate.

Sofia was actually quite lovely, when she wasn’t being a bitch to Nell. 

‘I was eight days old when the first full moon came.’

Nell blinked rapidly, trying to remember what they had been talking about; and when it came to her, she stared at Sofia in horror. She pictured an infant, completely helpless and unable to do anything for itself, breaking apart inside, twisting into a monster.

‘Why would your family even want to keep –’ It seemed harsh even to Nell to say the word ‘existing’ so she cut herself off.

Sofia’s detached misery morphed into a glare.

‘You would prefer we all died out? That I was never born?’

The immediate urge Nell felt to tell her that she didn’t want that – that she needed her – made her temper rise even further.

‘If it wasn’t for your idiot brother –’

‘He made a mistake! A terrible, stupid mistake!’

‘And now here you are, making everything worse by adding a third monster for people to have to worry about!’

‘You should be grateful!’ she snapped. ‘Without me, I’m certain you two would have torn each other apart by now.’

‘Oh, fuck off! I ain’t even sure that I’ve seen him once.’

‘Because of me,’ Sofia insisted. ‘Because I have been with – I’ve kept you distracted.’

‘No, it’s because he knows he’d lose,’ Nell said, aware that she was all bluster. ‘You just want to be out here because you’re just as selfish as him.’

For a second, Nell regretted her words, because of the hurt in Sofia’s big, sad eyes; then those eyes went cold, her jaw set stubbornly, and Nell’s sympathy was blessedly washed away.

‘I am not leaving. You know that it would be pointless,’ Sofia challenged. ‘Besides, it won’t be long now...’

As if on cue, a distant howl pierced the night; the chilling sound made the pair of them jolt towards one another.

‘Would you look at that!’ Nell raised her voice, almost hoping he’d hear her. ‘Your idiot brother’s getting an early start!’

‘So he is,’ Sofia said with a sigh; she said it so simply, so immediately, that it almost made Nell laugh.

Sofia turned her head, as if trying to more precisely locate the direction from which her brother’s howl came.

‘Thomas sounds... closer than I would have hoped.’

‘Good, then maybe you’ll fuck off to join him rather than being a thorn in my side all night.’

‘As long as I’m with one of you, I can protect...’ Sofia stopped herself, looking guilty.

‘Right. Keep telling yourself that’s why you’re here.’

Sofia shut her eyes, sounding remorseful as she said, ‘I know it isn’t. It... stopped being about that months ago.’

Her hand slid up to Nell’s shoulder. Even the pressure of it through her coat gave her hen-flesh.

‘You know I hate you, right?’ Nell asked, hoping to remind them both.

‘I don’t care,’ Sofia told her, getting closer and resting her chin upon Nell’s shoulder.

Nell’s hands came up involuntarily to rest upon Sofia’s back, trapping the loose shift against her. She could feel how feverishly warm her skin was through the linen. It was pleasant.

‘Thank you for coming.’

The words made Nell smile – until she remembered that she really did hate her. But the thought of saying it again, especially now that she had her in her arms, was too terrible to consider. She scowled as she leant further into her, smelling her hair.

The closeness of her had begun to make the cold woods feel cosy.

She felt Sofia’s face turn in towards her neck. She felt her lips, soft and damp, press into her skin. She couldn’t help it – she leant into her touch and drew her body even nearer towards her in a tentative embrace.

‘I would...’ Nell heard Sofia swallow before she said, ‘I’d protect you from him, too.’

Nell couldn’t understand why her words stirred her emotions the way they did, but she nevertheless found herself rubbing her hand over Sofia’s back soothingly, gratefully.

‘I know you would.’ Again, something she could not understand, but something that felt right.

Sofia lifted her face from Nell’s neck and pulled back so she could look at her face. She leant back in, and it seemed like she was going to kiss her, but she instead brushed the tip of her nose against Nell’s.

‘I want...’ Sofia’s words drifted off.

Nell thought maybe she wanted to be kissed, and for some reason, in that moment, that didn’t seem so terrible. She tilted her head, moving to kiss her, but Sofia’s lips evaded her. Feeling foolish for trying, she instead kept her mouth closed and her lips motionless against the woman’s cheek, waiting for her to make the next move.

‘I would like...’

‘What are you on about now?’ Nell asked tiredly.

Nell felt the bridge of Sofia’s nose slide along her own before the woman again turned her face away, dodging another of Nell’s attempts to kiss her.

All Nell got in response was a low moan. Clearly, Sofia was rapidly passing the point of speech now.

What if she changes before I do? Will she kill me? Fuck, is that why she invited me? One less danger to the family’s secret.

But the lucid thoughts did not seem as if they came from her; they were more like the chastisements of some onlooker separate from her. So, she didn’t let those thoughts stop her hands as they continued to roam over Sofia; though they too seemed as if they had minds of their own, each finger curious and eager to wander. Nell watched those hands – her own hands, which she almost kept forgetting – glide over the linen, bunching it and lifting it ever higher.

She drew back just enough so that she could look at her. Though the bright moonlight made it easy to see nearly every detail of her, it was through a haze that Nell saw Sofia’s bared thighs and belly, then her breasts; all things which were familiar in such a way that went beyond those moody mornings where they both tried to avoid looking at each other. There was not a single scratch or blemish upon her body.

Higher still the shift was raised, until Sofia’s arms became tangled in the sleeves, and it looked as though she would simply tear herself free from them. It made perfect sense to Nell, ripping apart anything that was in their way. She wanted to do the same.

But Sofia was able to figure out where her arms needed to go, so she could be free – just as she ought to be. She shouldn’t be bound and constricted ever, Nell felt, and she hated just then to think of her in any clothes at all; and she looked so much happier without them, all full of relief and levity that she had never seen in Sofia’s human body before.

‘I missed you,’ Nell very nearly said, despite a nagging awareness of the fact that she did not actually know her enough to feel such a profound ache. That ache was soothed slightly when Sofia pressed herself against the front of Nell, burying her face against her neck once more.

‘I’ve waited all month for...’ Sofia finished her sentence with a noise of disgust. There was a moment of silence, Sofia’s face heavy on Nell’s shoulder. It was in a frustrated, sad sort of tone that Sofia said, ‘I want you naked.’

‘Ah,’ Nell said awkwardly.

She felt Sofia sigh what might have been a ‘please’, but she couldn’t be certain. Still, it was awfully hard for her to argue with Sofia, once she started to drag her mouth over her neck; her teeth brushed against the front of Nell’s throat as she crossed to her other shoulder. The woman’s hands were underneath Nell’s coat, her fingers digging into her hips.

Nell felt her coat sliding from her shoulder, turned her head and looked down her nose to see her collar in the woman’s mouth. As Sofia dragged it slowly off her shoulder, clutched between her teeth, she stared into Nell’s eyes almost defiantly.

‘Not the way I’d have done it,’ Nell commented mildly, shrugging the other shoulder off herself; it fell heavily at their feet, and Sofia kicked it out of her way.

‘Don’t talk.’

Sofia’s hands twisted into the linen of Nell’s shirt, pulling the garment loose from her breeches. Feeling her hands against her bare skin made Nell keep her mouth shut, even when Sofia leant in again and gently bit her collarbone. Nell felt her shirt being pulled up, felt the cool night air hit her abdomen and back. Sofia backed away just enough to get the shirt off, manoeuvring Nell’s arms rather roughly, until her chest was fully bared.

Unlike Sofia’s clear skin, Nell’s had dozens of scars. Some were raised enough for the moon to cast shadow beneath them; others were no more than little slices, smooth and made shiny by the dead tissue which had sealed them shut ages ago, now silvery in the moonlight. She no longer seemed to get new scars, ever since her first transformation in October.

Sofia’s fingers quickly found the wound her brother had given Nell. It would have been hard for her to miss it even if Nell had still been clothed: it was dark and vivid enough that often showed through the linen of her shirt, and it was wide enough that when the opening of her shirt shifted even a little, it would often creep into view. 

Everything seemed to go quiet around them as Sofia pressed her lips against the scar; it stung at the contact, and burning pain shot along the grooves, like a spark chasing a trail of gunpowder. It felt good, in a way – soothing, in spite of the pain; like they were pieces coming together to form a whole. Sofia’s tongue traced along the deepest point of the centremost scar, and it stung so deeply, it felt almost as if the tip touched Nell’s heart.

The wince Nell gave made Sofia lift her face from her chest to look at her; it seemed to remind her that she hadn’t finished what she was doing, and before Nell could do anything, Sofia stepped around behind her.

Sofia’s hands found their way around her waist and her arms tightened around it. She felt Sofia’s forehead press against the back of her neck, then felt her hand slide lower, until she found the buttons holding shut her breeches. Nell reached down to help her with the flies, but froze when she remembered that she ought to have been slapping that hand away.

Even though she stopped helping, Sofia wasn’t deterred when Nell’s hand went stiff, instead working around it with shaking fingers.

‘At least it isn’t still winter,’ she said, though she had a feeling Sofia wouldn’t respond; or that if she did, it would be to tell Nell again to stop talking. The thought of being chastised made Nell’s eyes roll, but she still felt baffling affection as she looked down at where Sofia’s hands worked to free her.

She hurried to get her boots off without bending down, stepping on the heel of one with the toe of the other, kicking, shaking her foot – doing her best to free herself, and no doubt looking ridiculous in the process. Her breeches fell and she stepped out of them next, nudging them aside with her foot.

She felt so much better once she was free; so much so that she wondered why she ever voluntarily wore clothes. A giddy laugh escaped her and she turned around to face Sofia, gathering her into her arms and embracing her; it made her scar sting, having her warm body pressed against it, but it felt worth it to hear Sofia’s contented sigh.

Once again, that unpleasant – no, painful – feeling that there was something wrong with what she was doing resurfaced. It made her step back; she needed distance to clear her mind, as much as she did not want to stop.

Sofia was quick to seize her hand, to keep her from getting far. Nell stopped immediately, and had to fight the urge to leap back into the embrace. Sofia watched her intently as she lifted Nell’s hand, held it to her cheek for several seconds, then drew it to her mouth and bit the heel of it.

That cut through the haze and brought the human part of Nell back to the forefront, at least for a moment.

‘Well, that’s very...’ Nell heard her own voice as if from a distance, and it trailed off as Sofia bit down even harder. ‘Huh.’

She did her best to stroke at Sofia’s cheek with her fingers, but it was difficult to reach. When she tried to take her hand back, Sofia latched on tighter with her teeth for just a couple seconds more before finally letting go of her.

Nell cursed under her breath as she examined the red, teeth-shaped mark on her hand, gleaming in the moonlight. Sofia’s teeth had not broken the skin, though even if she had, Nell wasn’t sure she would have minded.

Almost apologetically, Sofia rubbed her face against Nell’s, her mouth open and breath hot against her face. The sound Nell heard was something of a whine, or maybe a whimper. Nell lifted her chin, leaning into her and nuzzling her cheek with her nose, then tilting her face upwards to rub her closed mouth against her brow ridge. It was better than any kiss could have been, surely, but at one point Sofia’s mouth still brushed right across hers, and it left her lips tingling.

It felt to Nell like she was slipping in and out of a dream. Blinking took her back to the human within her who was panicking, while the sight of Sofia – blurred from how close she was – called her back to the alluring present. Her eyes soon began to burn from her struggle not to blink, hating every moment where her desire for Sofia was tainted by her human heart’s terrible trepidation.

She felt Sofia’s teeth graze her cheek; she was dragging them gently down to the corner of her jaw. It felt perfectly natural when Sofia’s mouth then latched onto her skin there; only lightly, pinching it painlessly between her teeth. Even if she bit down harder, it still would have felt perfectly normal, as if they had done it a thousand times before.

No longer did it seem foreign when Sofia stepped in, pressing her body to Nell’s once more. So close was she that her feet were practically between Nell’s, and Nell had to hold her so that she would not fall backwards – but they were already clinging to each other too much for there to be any danger of that happening. Not even a storm could have prised Sofia from Nell’s grip.

Nell buried her face in Sofia’s neck, breathing her in. She looked down between them to where their chests touched; she wanted to believe that she could feel Sofia’s heart beating, but figured it was only the wild, uneven beating of her own.

Her life, who she was, and what made Nell herself were all fading quickly. She would have expected a sense of loss to accompany such a thing, but instead she was flooded with relief. This life was simple: there was no such thing as shame; there was no need for clothes, no concept of indecency. It was a world in which she and Sofia were equals, their sexes irrelevant, and any intruders could be dealt with in whatever way they deemed necessary, without guilt – at least, until morning came.

Despite how she presented herself, Nell as a human had many fears: like being stuck in Tottenham, tethered to people who couldn’t protect themselves, and dying alone and leaving behind nothing but her name on a makeshift headstone. But those were all things that didn’t matter, one night a month. There was nobody she wanted to spend that night with, other than Sofia. How was it that she hadn’t spent the whole month longing for her, when she wanted her so badly now?

Nell’s face dragged down Sofia’s chest, until she was low enough that she was forced to kneel. She rubbed her cheek against her belly, holding her around her legs. Sofia’s hands moved to her head, the fingers of one hand buried in her hair, the others caressing Nell’s cheek that was still exposed to the cold.

Her scalp prickled beneath Sofia’s touch. She wanted to jump out of herself and into her; she wanted to clean her with her mouth, keep her warm with her own body; she wanted Sofia wrapped around her, teeth gripping at the back of her neck. They had done it before, yet never enough; she would always want more.

Though Sofia’s feet were bare, filthy, and bleeding badly from the walk through cruel terrain, the woman stood unflinchingly. The scent of blood drew Nell lower and lower until she felt the tip of her nose touch the top of Sofia’s foot. Tiny cuts on her ankles and shins had allowed haphazard trails of red to creep down, to mix with the soil clinging to her.

Nell kissed at some of the blood that was not tainted by the earth. Its metallic tang transferred to her lips, diluting and taking with it some of the red, leaving her cleaner.

In that moment, there was nowhere that seemed too strange a place to kiss her, and the way she found herself mindlessly working her way upwards along her leg seemed to reflect that. Her ascension was slow, due to that reluctant, frustrating part of her mind that was trying to tell her she was committing some terrible act. Luckily, that human part of her was laughably weak just now.

Nell stopped and looked up at Sofia from where she was kneeling. She couldn’t remember what Sofia had looked like, back when she left with Captain Jackson, but even had she not gone to Broadwater Hall to show the family the scar Thomas had given her, Nell could not imagine having not recognised her that first morning when they had awoken side by side in the grass. She was one of the prettiest women in Tottenham, and Nell was aware of that even in those now-distant moments where she hated her.

When she had tried to show Lord Blancheford and Sofia the scar Thomas had given her, by opening her shirt slightly at the front, Lord Blancheford had told her to stop – that she was being indecent, and that was in no way lending credence to her brazen, slanderous lie about his son. The man had refused to look at her, refused to listen to her when she said that even before the full moon, Thomas had beaten her up on the night she had first returned to Tottenham.

Sofia, however, had looked at the scar Nell had wanted them to acknowledge, to take accountability for. Sofia had looked at her chest in such a way that it made Nell quickly cover herself up, to escape that gaze; once she had, Sofia had returned instantly to her aloof, disinterested demeanour, letting her father speak.

It made perfect sense now why she had looked, because Nell couldn’t help but gaze up at her in the very same way.

She slid her hands up Sofia’s legs, trying to think of something to say, but she was too distracted by the part of her that was at face level; she moved to touch it, but her hand seemed too clumsy for such a thing; far more suited to scratching or digging. Her hands dropped, because she realised that her mouth was better in every way for such a task.

Sofia seemed to agree, judging by how she tried to gather Nell’s head even closer when her lips made contact with the area. Nell sighed into the hair, tried to burrow past it with her closed mouth to get to where she wanted to be, but was disappointed when she felt Sofia pull away.

She lifted her head to try to see what she had done wrong, only to see that Sofia was falling backwards: In her enthusiasm, she had knocked her right off her feet. Nell watched her fall, only thinking to reach out after she had already hit the ground – hard.

Nell chased after her as Sofia settled back on her elbows. She barely even spared a glance at Sofia’s face before coaxing her thighs open and dropping between them, wanting nothing more than to resume what she had been trying to do.

Nell turned her face this way and that, as she tried to familiarise herself with her. The wetness spread beyond her mouth and chin, onto her cheeks. She wanted to bury her face in her even deeper, the way she might tuck into a deer – something she couldn’t remember ever doing, but still seemed so familiar. She wanted to bite, but fought the urge, instead satiating herself with the sounds that came from her. She let her mouth wander from spot to spot, despite Sofia’s insistent pressure on her head to keep her where she was.

It should have been easy to forget, in that moment, who it was that she was putting her mouth to so eagerly, since it wasn’t as if she could see much of anything, even in those moments her eyes weren’t shut from bliss. The voice behind the moans seeping into her ears through the haziness of it all was, strangely, among the least familiar things about her; it barely connected at all to the woman’s name, too, as Nell wasn’t sure she ever heard the woman say her own name.

Sofia. How strange it seemed to assign a name to her at all. She didn’t need one; she was already whole without one. The only noises Nell wanted to associate with her were the ones she herself made: sometimes a pleading whine, or an occasional warning growl when she was bothering her too much. And really, what the hell did Sofia even mean? If anything, scent was a better identifier than Sofia. Lucky for Nell, she was surrounded by it; drowning in it. There was no better a place to drown, or even to die.

Sofia. Nell tried to say the word, feeling like sounding it out might help her make sense of it, but her mouth wasn’t working correctly – in part because she still had it between her legs. She tried one more time, murmuring something similar enough to Sofia against the woman, before giving up.

She was tired of words; tired of everything that was human, with the exception of the body laid before her, moving beneath her mouth.

Nell felt Sofia’s fingernails weave past her hair to rake lightly at her scalp. She leant into it, enjoying the way she was scratching somewhere just past her ear; she didn’t realise she was so itchy. She sighed in relief and tilted her head just a little, trying to guide Sofia’s nails to the right spot.

Her fingers dug into the dirt on either side of Sofia’s hips, which rose and fell in a rhythm beneath her face; she could feel the gritty soil become trapped under her fingernails as she left scratch marks in the earth. Then, it became Sofia’s legs which she clawed at, instead. Clods of dark dirt tumbled off her shaking thighs, sticking to the blood Nell’s fingers spread across her skin.

Sofia’s nails cut into her scalp, sharp as claws; it made Nell’s eyes water. She grunted and tried to wriggle free of Sofia’s hands, but the woman was deceptively strong. Her complaint was muffled by the desperate way Sofia was rubbing herself against her face. The sound of the woman’s voice echoed through the woods; it dragged on for a moment, then trailed off into only heavy breathing.

Sofia’s movements died down and her grasp on her head loosened, though her hands remained buried in Nell’s hair; her nails continued to scratch at her head, more gently now, somehow finding every itchy spot without so much as a word from Nell.

She went limp and quiet, besides her continued panting. Nell lifted her face, looking past the heavy rising and falling of her chest to try to catch a glimpse of her expression. Sofia too lifted her head, meeting her gaze.

Nell was disappointed when Sofia stopped giving her those scratches she was enjoying so much, but still allowed – without complaint – for Sofia to hold her by the jaw, guiding her to crawl up along her body until she was above her; Nell was careful to keep her hands and knees on the ground, rather than putting pressure on any of the places on Sofia’s thighs that she had left bleeding. She shut her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Sofia's breath warming her face, each gust of it like a kiss.

Before she could truly relax, however, Sofia sat up, causing Nell to back off, trying to get out of her way; but before she could put any real distance between them, Sofia lunged at her. Nell was put on her back with unexpected force and Sofia climbed upon her, pinning her against the ground by her shoulders.

There was an unsettling moment where Nell was certain that Sofia was about to attack her; but it was only unsettling, not frightening; Sofia could savage her, rip her flesh off her bones like just another layer of clothes, and Nell would let her.

Instead, Sofia dipped her head, as if to kiss her; but rather than a kiss, her tongue pressed against Nell’s lower lip. Her mouth moved to Nell’s chin, rubbed along the outline of her lips, moving over all the spots that were still damp. As she did so, she slid lower, until she was straddling her thigh. Nell relaxed beneath her, felt relieved when Sofia began to move her hips, using her own thigh to apply pressure between Nell’s legs.

The blood on her fingers was leaving trails of red everywhere she touched Sofia – but it didn’t matter. Cleanliness meant nothing on the forest floor, and the moon bathed everything in light so pale, every colour was almost washed away.

Sofia’s rocking movements made her long hair slide over her shoulders, falling between them to frame both their faces. Nell reached up to push it all to one side, so she could see at least half her face.

The ache of her longing – dormant until this night – seemed to gather and concentrate between Nell’s legs, where Sofia’s thigh still moved against her. The feeling grew until it overwhelmed her, and then a rush of pleasure went through Nell, bright as lightning; she lay there, shaking, as if it had struck her down; it was as if she was electrified, and she couldn’t tell if the overwhelming feeling deadened her or if it made her more alive. Her fingers pressed so hard into Sofia’s arms that it would not have surprised her if even the blunt pads of her fingers poked holes in her skin. She didn’t care; she needed Sofia to feel, too, what she felt.

The feeling passed, and so did the following seconds in which she stared up at Sofia. Trickling in now was a clarity Nell had not felt since before nightfall had come and bewitched her. Atop her, she saw plainly now, was merely a woman whom she hardly knew, whose body she was bruising. She let go of her arms, but Sofia did not seem to notice.

This feral human’s soft grunts seemed so small within the shadows created by their bodies, despite the lack of competition from other forest creatures; their cries had frightened off the nightbirds, and even the crickets seemed to have fled. It felt like they were the only two creatures left in the world. There were only Sofia’s quick breaths and the crackling of dead leaves beneath her as the woman moved upon her thigh so desperately, it was as if she was trying to grind her into the dirt.

Sofia tensed and tightened her grip upon Nell’s shoulders even harder than before, her face screwing up once more as her movements became erratic, just as they had against Nell’s face. Nell stared up at the woman, taking in the halo of moonlight around her, and watched her come undone.

Then it passed, and when she opened her eyes once more to look down upon Nell, she seemed sober and of her own mind again; she seemed embarrassed. If Sofia had been in any position to run off, Nell reckoned she would have just then.

Neither of them spoke, and the only sounds between them were their heavy breathing. The growing lucidity between them peaked and plateaued as they saw each other’s human selves and – for just a second – seemed to realise what they were doing.

‘The moon, it plays tricks on us.’

At the memory of those words, Nell’s heart sank; it felt as if it went through her, past her spine, and into the dirt under her back. That sinking feeling, which felt so tangible and real, was just as false as the illusion that she loved, and was loved by, Sofia.

And then, although it had taken its time, allowed them their tension-filled moment of peace, the thunder finally caught up to the lightning.

Nell flinched back into the hard, cold ground to try to get away when Sofia made a sound like she was being strangled. The woman slumped atop her, blocking her view of the moon which was piercing the trees above.

Then Sofia straightened up, quick as a whip, arching her back and tilting her head uncomfortably far back to look up at the bright sky. Her jaw hung open wide enough for her teeth to glisten in the moonlight, and a distressed noise began to form in her throat.

It was different from when she had come off before; this was unmistakably pain.

Sofia fell upon her side, with her limbs drawn close, like she was huddled beneath a blanket on a cold night. Her groans were awful to hear, and her cheeks shone with sudden tears.

What sickened Nell more than the sight of her pain was her own sense of anticipation and the feeling that she didn’t want to look away, no matter how gruesome it would become. Not only did she want an outside view of what it was she had gone through now for so many months, but there was a part of her that wanted Sofia to change – because it was that version of her that she longed for, not the one she had just laid with upon the fallen leaves.

Without realising it, she had begun to crawl towards Sofia. She wanted to help her. She wanted a closer look. She wanted to quicken the change, because she wanted her, not Sofia Wilmot.

But she stopped, for she could hear the loud cracking of Sofia’s changing bones, and the awful sound seemed to resonate within her own body.

‘Fuck – fuck!’ she began to shout, panicking as pain began to course through her.

Sofia moaned in reply, then began to crawl towards her. Her gait was disjointed – just like her limbs seemed to be, the way they wobbled beneath her. The way Sofia came to her was so unnatural, it could only be described as the wretched crawling of a spirit so hungry that even its broken body could not hinder it.

Nell’s muscles were paralysed, fighting against the inevitable, even as her bones creaked within her, preparing for their monthly metamorphosis. She couldn’t control her limbs enough to push Sofia off when she climbed atop her, putting pressure on all the wrong spots and making her suffering all the worse.

In spite of it all, Nell lifted her face to touch her forehead to Sofia’s, finding comfort in the flow of her ragged breaths. Sofia’s weight upon her was not enough to restrain Nell as she convulsed beneath her, but the determined woman dug her sharp nails in and held on tight.

‘Please –’ Nell started to say. It was not to Sofia that she was pleading, though; she was begging her own body for mercy.

Please, let it be quick. Oh, God, don’t let it drag on. I can’t –

Her prayers were cut short when Sofia’s teeth sank into Nell’s shoulder – normal, blunt, human teeth. And although she was already in agony, the fresh pain brought forth another scream to mix with the rest of her anguished cries. She heard a low growl coming from Sofia, felt its reverberations in the very muscles where she was being bitten. She felt the skin break and tear; she pushed her hard, and then as the woman fell to her side, Nell caught a glimpse of Sofia with blood on her mouth and something limp dangling from between her teeth.

When the woman spat it out, Nell could hardly believe that the large chunk of flesh had come from her, even as the smell of the blood pouring from her wound drew Nell’s mouth to it. It was hard to reach, and impossible to get a good bite, so she had to content herself with merely prodding it with her tongue. She ignored the burning sensation as her hot spit mixed with the blood, focused only on the taste: it was good, but lacking compared to what she had tasted of Sofia.

The thought of Sofia was what made her look back up – not the screams that were tearing their way out of the woman writhing only feet away from her.

It looked from that angle like Sofia’s hair was growing longer, trailing down her spine and turning the pale skin blacker than a starless sky. The hair on Sofia’s head was hanging like a tattered curtain in front of her face, through which Nell could see teeth which had grown too large – too sharp – to fit inside her mouth. Her beautiful face became disfigured as her mouth and nose jutted forward together. Nell stared into Sofia’s blue eyes, watching them turn green, then yellow, then finally a shade of deep amber. So focused was she on those eyes, she had missed the sprouting of fur – the disappearance of the woman’s long hair.

Sofia lay there, her whimpers dying down as her body finished reconstructing itself. Piece by piece, the human Sofia was lost to the wolf. Then, as the metamorphosis was completed, she was a beauty once more.

The sight of the true Sofia flooded Nell with joy. She tried to crawl towards her, wanting nothing but to be nearer to her, but Sofia leapt up, darting far beyond the reach of Nell, whose body was quickly deteriorating.

It was laughably easy to forget what real pain was, most of the month. Little things like a shard of broken glass in her hand or something heavy falling on her foot still hurt, but it all paled in comparison to what would happen when the moon was full. The pain which had built up in anticipation for the transformation had seemed unbearable, yet it never prepared her for the moment when her bones began to change shape inside of her.

The cursed claw marks on her chest split open, causing blood to seep down her breasts, between them, and onto her belly; the stream of blood dripping down from her missing piece of her shoulder met and merged with the open wound on her chest. The scent of blood was overpowering; it made her mouth water so much that she felt she would choke on her spittle.

She wasn’t the only one who could smell the blood. Sofia’s dark muzzle was stained already with Nell’s blood, with it having carried over through her transformation; her mouth was ajar, as if trying to get a taste of the metallic scent with which the night air had become so laden.

‘No,’ Nell moaned. ‘Sofia, don’t you fucking dare –’

There was a low, menacing growl, which Nell felt in her bones just as much as she heard with her ears. Clearly, Sofia did not like being told what to do.

A spasm coursed through her from the tips of her toes, up her legs, along her spine, before finally landing at where her skull met her neck. She could do nothing but tense, shut her eyes against the bright moonlight and the glaring wolf, and try to fight against her body’s insistence that she keenly experience every minute detail of the pain which she now faced.

Irregular and unpredictable as it always was, there were moments where the pain temporarily dulled – at least, in comparison. She forced her eyes open and saw the world in less of a range of colours than before, though the blues and greys had grown richer. Only that which was in front of her was clear, but she could see so much further than before, and any patches of darkness cast by foliage were no longer as disorienting.

Sleek black fur at the corner of her vision caught her attention briefly, but another burst of pain made it impossible for her to get a good look. Still, she felt those eyes sizing her up.

Thick fur began to thrust its way out of follicles which were too slight for it, leaving her skin burning at first before becoming an itchiness so torturous that she would have happily taken back the pain in its stead. Even if the pain was taken away, the shifting, creeping of her body would be unnerving enough to drive a person mad.

Nell heard a twig snap behind her, and she whipped around just in time to see a black figure as it collided with her, taking the breath out of her, and pressing her into the dirt. Its jaws wrapped around her upper arm, shattering her bone as if it was nothing but a dry branch. She raised her other hand, intending to strike Sofia to try to force her to let go, but found herself incapable of following through; she loved her too much. She loved her so much that all she could do was watch her arm get twisted, mangled. For a second she thought she would lose it completely to her; and she knew that she could forgive her, anyway.

The crushing pressure abruptly stopped and Nell’s arm was released. It was bent queerly, muscles and tendons exposed, and dripping with blood and saliva. She flinched when Sofia’s mouth returned to it, even when she did nothing but lick the blood in a way that Nell somehow knew to be apologetic. She leant away as Sofia sniffed her way up her ruined arm, and she tried to ignore the wet nose when it began to prod at her cheek – until she realised that the distraction was providing welcome relief from what horrors the rest of her body was undergoing.

Nell didn’t know when exactly her spine had extended into a tail, but it was pinned uncomfortably beneath her. Careful, so as to not excite the predator, she rolled onto her stomach. She felt Sofia chew on her hair, more gently than she would have expected, considering what she had done to her arm. Nell’s fingers dug into the ground in front of her chin; they were shorter and sharper than they should have been, still red with the blood of Sofia’s thighs. She watched as reddish hair spread from her arms and engulfed the rest of her hands, hiding the deformities.

It felt now like her face was getting wrenched away from her body by the nose and jaw. She felt her septum split vertically as her mouth elongated to nearly her ears, which had migrated nearly to the top of her head; Sofia had begun to nibble at the pointed tips of those, too.

Having her arms the way she had them – elbows off to the sides – became uncomfortable, then impossible; so she adjusted herself so she was settled with them beneath her, drawing her legs in similarly. Her muscles twitched beneath her fur, but it began to feel like everything within her body was beginning to settle into place. Her shaking slowly began to subside, and she shut her eyes to further relax. Through the fading pain, she felt something soft against her face. It moved in soothing strokes over her cheek, giving her something to focus on as she sank onto her side, flank against the ground. Whiskers tickled at the corner of her lips, and just over her own groaning, she heard a low, concerned whine.

Her groan turned to one of annoyance when she felt a harder nip at her ear, followed by a paw digging into her belly. When that didn’t get the other wolf off of her, she snapped at the air as a warning, which earned her a short growl.

Nell shook herself hard to dislodge Sofia, who had climbed halfway onto her, then rose unsteadily to her feet. Sofia was at her side immediately, muzzle under Nell’s chin to help her keep her head up. Nell grunted to clear her throat of any lingering scratchiness from her recent screams, then sneezed for good measure – making Sofia stumble away, looking disdainfully back at her.

As Nell continued to get her bearings, the little black wolf waited, nose to the ground, undoubtedly hoping to catch some trace of her first prey for that evening. She was the better hunter out of the two of them, and certainly enjoyed killing more.

Finally, Nell felt like herself. She wandered over to Sofia and wrapped her jaws gently around her muzzle, playfully holding it shut, and making the wolf growl all the more. It wasn’t very scary, though.

Before anything else, Nell felt strongly that she needed to find a good stick: it had to fit just right in her mouth and still be large enough to impress Sofia. Luckily, she found one suitable enough to carry around for a couple hours, or at least until she found something better. It hung lopsided from one side of her mouth as she went to Sofia, whose tail began to sweep back and forth with a poorly-tempered eagerness which built as Nell came closer.

Stick at the ready, Nell was ready to follow Sofia wherever she wanted to lead them. To demonstrate her readiness, Nell leant against her so hard that the smaller wolf wobbled for a couple seconds in an effort to stay on her feet; what did not help was the fact that Nell’s tail was wagging so hard that it was effectively slapping her alongside the flank over and over.

Sofia made one unsuccessful attempt to take her stick – as she always did – which Nell dodged effortlessly. Then together, they trotted deeper into the woods, eager to make the most of their limited time.

All concepts of words had disappeared into the night, but even if they had remained, Nell had no use for them; she never would have been able to find the right ones to convey how much she loved her.