The Moon was strangely vibrant in colour. The most red it had ever been. The wolf, alone, and frightened, felt the need to set the scene. She howled, silently at first, and then raised her voice more and more. The blood redness of the Moon that night had affected her for sure. She sang a song that birds should sing, but not a single bird was near, as they were all in their nests, cowering in fear. The Moon that night had caused a fright to all within her glow, but why the Moon was red so soon, not a soul did know. The wolf fulfilled her task at hand, and sang to her heart’s desire, her words known briefly to but a few, who’d dared to go enquire…
The Mansionic Perspective 
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