Cry Under the Moon

Lyra crouched behind a thick veil of foliage, her emerald eyes fixed on the human village in the distance. The thatched roofs and wooden bridges seemed to blend seamlessly into the landscape, as if nature had claimed the settlement as its own. She had always been fascinated by the humans' ability to coexist with the land, unlike her own kind, who often struggled to balance their wild nature with the need for community.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm orange glow over the village, Lyra's pack stirred around her. Her alpha, the wise and aged Akira, nodded in her direction. "Time to hunt, Lyra. The moon will be full soon, and our bellies are empty."

Lyra nodded, her raven hair rustling in the gentle breeze. She rose from her crouch, her senses heightened as she scanned the surrounding forest. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves filled her nostrils, and the soft chirping of crickets provided a soothing background hum.

As they ventured deeper into the forest, the pack's banter and playful nips filled the air. Lyra's tail wagged, her excitement building with every step. This was her favorite part of the day – the thrill of the hunt, the rush of adrenaline, and the sense of belonging that came with being part of a pack.

Just as they were about to split into smaller groups to stalk their prey, a strange scent caught Lyra's attention. It was sweet and earthy, like the forest floor after a spring rain, but with an unmistakable hint of humanity. Her ears perked up, and she exchanged a curious glance with Akira.

"Human," Akira whispered, her eyes narrowing. "And not from the village."

Lyra's heart quickened as she followed the scent, her pack falling in step behind her. The aroma grew stronger, leading them to a small clearing surrounded by a babbling brook and towering trees. And there, in the center of the clearing, stood a young man, his eyes fixed on Lyra with a mixture of wonder and fear.

He was tall and lean, with piercing blue eyes and chestnut hair that fell to his shoulders. His skin was smooth and unblemished, a stark contrast to the rugged, weathered complexions of the villagers. Lyra's instincts told her that this human was different, that he didn't belong in their forest.