Moonlight in the Misty Forest

The fog of late autumn always arrives early, shrouding the oak forest on the edge of Bluestone Town tightly. Lake leaned against the trunk of the sturdiest oak tree, the warmth of his just-retracted wolf ears lingering at his fingertips. In his human form, he had short light golden hair, with a faint amber hue at the corners of his eyes—an imprint of the wolf clan, and a secret he strived to hide.

As the youngest adult werewolf in his pack, Rake was supposed to remain in the clan’s mountainous territory. Yet, after refusing an arranged marriage decreed by the alpha, he fled alone to the outskirts of this human settlement. He despised the cold, blood-bound relationships enforced within his clan, yet he also feared humanity’s hostility toward werewolves—the very creatures elders whispered about as “Monsters of the Mistwood.”

A faint footstep shattered the silence. Rake instantly tensed, fine fur prickling at his fingertips as he prepared to vanish into the thick fog—until he saw a slender figure approaching, carrying a bamboo basket. It was a girl in a beige knit sweater, her hair tipped with tiny beads of mist, clutching a well-worn fairy tale book with curled edges.

"Hello?" The girl's voice was like a mountain spring, soft and timid. "My name is Ella. I'm the librarian in town, here to pick some wild berries. Are you... taking a walk too?"

Lake froze in place. He could smell the faint ink scent and sweet berry aroma on the girl, a scent that inexplicably relaxed his tense nerves. His Adam's apple rolled, and he replied in a low voice: "Lake." It was the human name he had given himself, simple enough to leave no trace.

After that, Ella came to the oak forest every day. Sometimes she brought newly borrowed books and sat beside the oak tree where Lake often stayed, reading aloud softly; sometimes she brought wheat cakes she had baked herself, passing them to him with a smile: "You seem to be here all the time. You must not have eaten well, right?"

Lake never dared to tell her his true identity, nor did he dare to stay until the moon rose at night. A werewolf's power grew restless under the moonlight, and he was afraid his out-of-control appearance would scare her. He just listened to her read silently, ate the warm wheat cakes, and felt an unprecedented warmth—the warmth of a soul that had been lonely for too long finally touching the sun's glow and brightness.

Affection quietly grew in their silent companionship. Lake began to look forward to their daily meeting in the misty forest. He would clean up the wolf claw marks around him in advance and deliberately tidy his hair to make himself look more like an ordinary human young man. Ella also gradually relied on this companionship. She would share interesting things about the town with Lake, complain about difficult readers, and the light in her eyes grew brighter and brighter.

The turning point came on a full moon night. That day, Ella brought a scarf she had knitted by hand, hiding it behind her back to surprise Lake. But she waited until the thick fog lifted and the moonlight poured over the forest. She saw Lake standing under the moonlight, his body undergoing strange changes—his short light golden hair grew longer, his amber eyes turned sharp, a fluffy wolf tail slowly emerged behind him, and his fingertips turned into sharp wolf claws.

Ella covered her mouth in fright, and the bamboo basket fell to the ground, wild berries rolling all over the place. Lake came to his senses instantly. Looking at his own appearance and then at the terrified Ella, his heart felt as if it was being tightly squeezed. "Don't come over!" He roared and stepped back, his voice mixed with a wolf's growl. "I'm the monster they talk about. Stay away from me!"

He turned around and was about to rush into the forest, but his wrist was gently grabbed. Ella's palm was slightly cool, trembling but not letting go. "You're not a monster," her voice was tearful yet unusually firm. "You're Lake—the Lake who listens to me read and eats the wheat cakes I make."

Lake froze. He turned around and saw Ella's tear-filled eyes. Under the moonlight, the girl's eyes were like stars, filled not with fear, but with distress. His out-of-control form gradually subsided, the wolf ears and tail retracting slowly, and he turned back into the young man with short light golden hair.

"I'm a werewolf," Lake lowered his head, his voice hoarse. "Staying close to me will put you in danger."

Ella stood on her tiptoes gently and wrapped the scarf around his neck. The soft wool clung to his skin, bringing waves of warmth. "The moonlight in the misty forest is beautiful," she said softly. "I want to watch it with you. No matter what you look like, I like you for who you are."

Lake raised his head, the moonlight and the girl's figure reflected in his amber eyes. He finally understood that true love was never bound by identity—just as the misty forest could not block the moonlight, loneliness could not block warmth. He gently held Ella's hand, the temperature of their fingertips blending. Under the gaze of the full moon, he embraced her in his arms.

From then on, every moonlit night, two leaning figures could be seen in the oak forest. They listened to the wind rustling through the leaves together, watched the moonlight penetrate the thick fog together, their shadows stretched long. Lake no longer hid his identity, and Ella became the first human to accept a werewolf. Their love, like the moonlight in the misty forest, was gentle yet firm, breaking the barriers of race and illuminating each other's lonely years.