"Mama?" Young Gray asks, resting her head against her mother's chest. Her hands run through Gray's hair, soothing her to sleep. She's a single mother. She's young, she had Gray when she was only seventeen.
Gray is seven now. Her hair is light and her eyes are a shade of green like a blade of grass. She looks almost exactly like her mother. Her mother hums softly. She listens to the sounds around them as they lay on a blanket looking up at the stars.
"Why do wolves howl?" She murmurs curiously. Her mother dwells on the question for a while herself. She understood what the wolves were saying, but there's no way she can explain something so disappointing to a seven year old.
"They tell stories to other wolves." Her mother says softly. Her voice is low, like if she were to raise it any it would wake up nonexistent neighbors.
"This one sounds sad, what's it about?" Gray asks. Her mother blinks at the question and let's out a soft breath.
"He's telling about how he feels, Gray honey. He lost someone very dear to him, and is mourning her loss." Gray understood the word mourning. She knew that meant that someone had died. Her bottom lip pokes out and tears well up in her eyes.
"It's okay, Gray. It's only a story." Her mother says softly, holding her daughter close to her chest. Gray nods her head in response. She let's soft whimpers out, because it reminded her of how it felt when she lost her dad.
The shade of werewolf.