Loon in the Moonlight

"Mum! Mum!!"

Hayley was woken by the whispering of her son, Mark.

"Ugh, what?" She was full of the fug of sleep.

"I need the toilet! I'm desperate!"

Hayley looked at her phone. 2.48am. Dead of night. Great.

"Take the head torch, love. It's not far. And it's a bright moon tonight."

She went to roll over but heard Mark's whimpering and unzipped her sleeping bag.

"Okay, I'll take you."

She stood and looked for her Crocs. Her husband, stayed fast asleep, snorting gently which Hayley found incredibly irritating.

Mark was hopping from foot to foot.

"Hurry, Mum! I'm bursting!"

"Okay! Okay!" and she stumbled to the door of the tent and unzipped it.

Out of their little cocoon, the night was glorious. The moon shone silver, coating the campsite with light, like the trail of a snail on a tree trunk. In the dead quiet, trying not to trip on the guy ropes, they made their way to the toilet block.

Funny how the night makes everything seem different, she thought, suppressing a shiver and she looked to the moon, thanking it for its glow.

A howl pierced the quiet. Hayley's heart thumped.

"What was that?" Mark squeaked.

Hayley wasn't sure, but her hackles rose.

"Just a loon, honey," and she held his hand more tightly.

And then a strange voice came from the shadows:

"Not a loon. You know, I really do object to that term especially as I appear when the moon is full."

Snarl.

Slash.

Dark.