With my bow in hand and my quiver on my back, I step outside on this brisk autumn morning. The mountains are ablaze with trees of gold, orange and red. My pack is still sleeping. As much as I love them, there’s nothing like some quality alone time. I take a deep breath of the cool morning air before stepping off of my porch and diving into the deep woods beyond.

Birds sing and squirrels flit around, looking for nuts. I hear the sounds of critters preparing their winter dens beneath the louder sounds of leaves cracking under my feet.

After traveling a considerable distance, I spot a small herd of deer in a clearing up ahead. I duck behind a tree, nock an arrow, and take aim at a young buck.

With a deep inhale, I release the bow and send it soaring through the air. It flies, straight and true, all the way up until the deer and then—it catches in midair.

The deer looks up, startled by the now suspended arrow. He takes off running, his herd haphazardly following.

“What in the blazes…” I mutter, stepping into the clearing. The arrow begins to slowly lower.

“You mustn’t loose them so carelessly,” a woman’s voice says.

I look around the clearing, startled. There’s no one to be seen. But I heard that voice as clear as the daylight rising around me.

“Who’s there?” I say, making my voice a little deeper than usual. “Show yourself.”

A young woman, short in stature and full in figure, appears before me. Hair the color of moonlight wreathes her pretty, pale face. She glares at me through rose-colored eyes.

“You nearly hit me,” she says.

“We-well…I-I would beg your pardon, but I couldn’t see you,” I stammer. I was prepared for any number of sources to the mysterious voice. But, not this source.

“For a hunter you’re not very observant,” she says. She steps toward me and holds out the arrow. “Here. Take back this vile thing before I snap it in two.”

I grab the arrow and stuff it into my quiver. After a quick glance around the clearing to confirm we are alone, I venture a question.

“Who are you?”

She snorts a derisive laugh out of her small nose. “What kind of man doesn’t introduce himself first?” She turns on her heel and begins to fade away, walking deeper into the forest.

“Wait!” I call. I begin to chase after her, only to find my body colliding with hers.

She snaps back into sight. Her glare has turned into a wide-eyed stare. As I glance down her form, I realize my hands are now resting on her waist. She shoves me away with a surprising amount of force for someone so much smaller than me.

“Really?!” she snaps. Her voice is loud now, and deeper too. It echoes through the trees and a few birds take flight at the sound of it. “I say, I’ve never encountered a man as rude as yourself before.”

“I apologize,” I say, holding my hands up in a sign of surrender. “You disappeared again. You know you do that, right?”

“Obviously I know that,” she scoffs. “It’s still rude to go around crashing into women.”

“Yes, but you keep turning invisible,” I say. “How am I to know your location if I can’t see you?”

“You have four other senses, don’t you?” she says. That’s actually a good point. As a werewolf, my senses are heightened. Or, at least, they should be. There’s something about her, though. I can’t put my finger on it, but she has a different sort of aura than most human women.

She pops an impatient hand up on her hip and that’s when I notice a deep, wicker basket hanging from her wrist. It’s full of all manner of herbs and berries. She must be a gatherer.

“I…uh, let’s start over. My name is Rowan,” I say, extending my hand to her.

She gives a questionable look to my hand, and then raises that look to my face. With all the reluctance of a deer being hunted, she gives the tips of my fingers a light squeeze.

“Calla,” she says.

“Pleasure to meet you,” I say, giving her a small nod.

“Is it?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

I chuckle. “I suppose you feel differently. Again, I am sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, waving her hand. “Sorry you lost your deer on my account.”

“Perhaps you can help me find another one,” I say.

Her eyes grow wide again. Her pale face starts to turn a shade of rosy pink. She quickly glances away, a furrow forming on her brow.

“Why would you want my help?” she mutters.

“A woman as lovely as the flower for which she’s named,” I say. “I can’t think of better company.”

Her face grows even pinker and her brow even more furrowed. She glares up at me. “Kindly spare me your flattery. I’ve no interest in men who nearly shoot me with arrows.”

It is my turn to flush pink with embarrassment. “I can assure you I’ll never make that mistake again. Though perhaps it would be wise for you to remain visible while standing so close to a wild animal.”

She sighs. “I can’t exactly…I’m…I’m cursed, okay? I can’t control when I disappear.”

“Cursed?” I repeat, raising a concerned eyebrow. Who would ever curse such a beautiful woman?

“Yeah, it’s a long story. Kind of the whole reason I became a gatherer, actually. But I’ve tried every combination of herbs and berries in this forest. Nothing has broken it.”

“Perhaps a kiss from an admirer could break it,” I say. It’s bold. I know it’s bold. I don’t care. If she truly is cursed and there’s anything I can do to help, I’ll gladly do it. I, too, have a curse of sorts. I can certainly empathize with her situation.

Her glare returns, but not the endearing blush. “I should really be off now,” she says.

“Can I see you again?” I call as she walks into the forest.

She turns to look at me one final time. As she fades from view, she says, “Probably not. But maybe if you listen carefully.”

~~~

My hunting shifts. I no longer look for game. I only look for Calla. An entire month goes by and our paths don’t cross again. I pause to listen at every rustling bush, every snapping twig, every breeze of air that could be concealing a sigh.

Nothing. It’s like she doesn’t even exist.

My pack mates begin to worry. None of them really believed me when I told them of our meeting, but a few them supported my sudden interest in finding a woman. They have all since rescinded that support and are insisting I refocus my efforts.

It’s no matter. I cannot banish her from my mind. My early mornings often turn into late nights. The only thing that drives me back home are the growls of vampire bears. They’re not much of a threat when I hunt with my pack, but they could do some serious damage to a lone wolf.

After several disappointing days, when my cautious optimism melts into sad hopelessness, I see the quickest flicker of white hair through the trees.

The sky overhead is thick with clouds. Thunder rumbles in the distance. It’s a bit late in the season for such a storm, but I’ve a feeling the weather doesn’t care what I think about it’s timing.

I dash into the woods, chasing after the white hair. A clearing similar to the one in which we met opens before me. I see footprints slowly imprinting in the mud, and a walking stick accompanying the footprints.  It lifts up and down, poking at the mud and then dragging through it. All motion pauses at my arrival, and the footprints turn toward me.

“Calla?” I say.

Silence greets me.

“I know you’re here,” I say. I step further into the clearing. The footprints take a step back. “I can see your footprints.”

I hear a soft laugh. The walking stick is tossed aside. “I was so enjoying watching you hunt.”

I grin at the clearing. “You’re here! Can I see you?”

She sighs. “I told you I can’t control it. It’s only gotten worse. I’m barely ever visible anymore.”

The pain in her voice makes me ache inside. We barely know each other, and yet she has consumed my thoughts for so long that I feel as if she’s my love.

“No luck with the gathering, huh?” I say.

“No,” she says. “And, honestly, I don’t want you to see me. I…I don’t look the same.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Um…you know about the vampire bears? Well, one sort of…attacked me for my honey. I have a pretty unfortunate scar from it.”

I try to picture her beautiful neck with a bite mark. It’s upsetting to say the least. I banish the thought from my mind before it consumes me with rage. As far as I know, she doesn’t know I’m a werewolf. I’m not sure I want to tell her just yet, and certainly not from an outburst of anger.

“I don’t care,” I say. “I still want to see you.”

The sky opens above us and rain begins to fall. An invisible person caught in the rain makes for a rather odd sight. I can see the faintest outline of her form as the water splashes down on her.

“My cabin is nearby,” I say, extending a hand in her general direction. “Why don’t you come and wait out the rain?”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t move, either. After a long pause (and more rainwater dousing us both), I feel her hand slide into mine. It’s smaller than I remembered, and her fingers feel cold. How long has she been out here?

We reach my cabin and I feel a bit foolish waving her inside before me. It takes a few seconds for me to realize she’s gone in. She begins to walk with heavy footsteps to let me know her location. I really have shamefully bad hearing for a werewolf.

I enter the cabin and shut the door behind me. A small puddle of water begins to form on the floor where she must be standing.

“Let me grab you a towel,” I say. I move through the cabin quickly, retrieving two towels from the closet. “Would you like some tea? Or maybe something to eat?”

“Tea’s fine,” she says.

I hold the towel out to where I think she’s standing. She takes it and begins to dry herself off. As the towel moves around, I get a better idea of where she’s standing. She’s so small. It hardly seems fair that she’d be cursed with a fate such as this.

We spend the afternoon together, waiting out the storm. Despite the oddness of sitting with an invisible person, I find comfort in her company. She’s far more soft spoken than she was during our first encounter, but she’s also more agreeable. We swap stories about our exploits in the surrounding forest. It is pleasant.

As the sky turns from stormy darkness to the darkness of night, I hear Calla rising to her feet.

“Thank you for the warm fire and the tea,” she says. “I should probably get going now.”

“It’s awfully dark out there,” I say, looking out the window. Despite the deep shadows, I can see clearly into the woods. There don’t appear to be any immediate threats outside, but some of my pack mates seem to be spying on us. “You can stay the night, if you like. I’ll sleep out here and you can take my bed.”

She breathes out a small sort of laugh. “Rowan, you’re very kind. I can’t possibly stay any longer.”

“Why not?” I ask. “I…I’ve been looking for you. It’s been so long since our first meeting. I’d really like to spend more time with you.”

“I’m sorry. I…I’ve seen you looking. I watch you most days, actually. But that’s exactly why I can’t stay. You can’t see me, and it wouldn’t be fair to you,” she says.

I hear her soft footfalls approaching the door.

“Calla, don’t go,” I say. I can’t see her reaction, but I am surprised by the desperation in my voice. I’ve wanted to find her again, but even I didn’t realize just how badly I wanted it.

“I don’t care about fairness. If you’ve really been watching then maybe you already know this. I’m a werewolf. I know what it’s like to be cursed. You don’t have to face this alone.”

The sound of her footsteps changes directions. She comes closer to me. I feel a soft, small hand cupping the side of my face. I grab it and hold it there with one hand while using the other to pull her closer. With some hesitation, she allows me to pull her into an embrace.

Her body is tense. She smells of smoke from my fire and sweat and tears. How long has she been fading from view? How long has she been alone in the woods? The thought only makes me hold her tighter.

“Rowan…” She whispers.

“Shh. It’s okay,” I say. “You’re safe now.”

“It’s not that. You’re…you’re kind of crushing me,” she says.

“Sorry!” I exclaim, releasing my hold on her. I have to remember my own strength. The last thing I want to do is hurt her.

She laughs. It’s the best sound I’ve ever heard.

“That was a nice hug. Thank you,” she says.

“Anytime,” I say. “So, will you stay here?”

“I don’t think I should. But I’ll come by again soon.”

“When?” I ask. I search the empty space before me, desperate for a sign of her location. She puts her hand on my arm.

“Very soon. I promise,” she says.

I walk her to the door and, despite not being able to see her, I watch the woods for a while after she goes.

One of my pack mates—Sage—steps out from behind a tree. I knew they were watching. Joke’s on them. There was nothing to see.

“So she’s real,” Sage says. He crosses his arms and gives me a concerned look. “And you told her about…your condition.”

“She’s cursed too,” I say.

“Yes, but why? That’s a rather strange curse, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure it’s not her fault,” I say. “And aren’t all curses strange? Isn’t that the whole point?”

Sage nods slowly. “I suppose so. Just…exercise caution. There’s something different about her. I’m not sure what, but we could all feel it when she was here.”

He’s right. I can feel it too. Perhaps she’ll be able to tell me the next time I see—or hear—her.

~~~

I don’t cross paths with Calla again until the evening before the full moon. I’m on my way back from an unsuccessful hunt. I spot her footsteps slowly pacing in the dirt outside of my cabin. I pause and watch the back and forth motion. After a few seconds, she pauses too.

“Rowan?” she calls. Her voice is soft and shaky.

“Hello Calla,” I say.

“I’ve been invisible for a whole day now,” she says. Her voice is full of misery. “I think…I think my fate is sealed.”

I rush toward her and find her in the darkness. She wraps her small, invisible arms around my waist and sobs against my chest. I smooth her hair with my hands, a vain attempt at comforting her.

“What happened to you? Why are you cursed to disappear?” I ask.

She sniffles and loosens her hold on me. “Um, well, it’s kind of my father’s fault. If you can fault a man for falling in love.”

“Go on,” I say.

She sighs. I can feel the rise and fall of her chest against mine. I hold her tighter. She continues her story.

“My father is a tinkerer and he loves to study the skies. He built a telescope so he could see the stars more closely. And then, one evening, he began to study the moon.

“It was his favorite subject. He loved watching it and marking its phases and noting its placement at different hours. He bought every book he could find on it—filled an entire library with information about the moon. And, one night, when he was standing in a field and gazing up at it, the sky went dark. My father looked and looked for it, turning his telescope this way and that. He couldn’t find it. He grew fearful, but then he heard the voice of a woman standing behind him. She called out his name.

“He turned to see a radiant woman, with hair the color of starlight, standing in a beautiful, white gown. She strolled toward him, smiling. He didn’t know her, but he felt like he did. He felt like she was as old a friend as any he’d had.

“He asked her how she knew his name and she told him she saw him watching her. He was, of course, very confused, until she introduced herself. Her name was Luna.”

Calla pauses in her story. She releases our embrace and shifts around on her feet a little.

“Was it the moon?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says. “The moon had fallen in love with the man who’d fallen for her. They spent the night together. And then, after 9 months of a full moon growing fuller and fuller, and causing frightening side effects on the tide of the sea and the werewolves of the land, my father was woken up by a knock in the middle of the night.

“He found a small baby girl, wrapped in glowing white linens, lying in a wicker basket. There was a handwritten note that said ‘Please care for Calla and I will watch over you both’.”

“Calla?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow. “Your mother…is the moon?”

I can hear a small smile in her voice. “I know it’s a little odd, but you’re a werewolf. You understand oddities, do you not?”

“Of course,” I say. Honestly, her relation to the moon makes sense. It’s no wonder I was immediately drawn to her. And it’s no wonder my pack mates and I could sense something different about her. But… “Why are you cursed?”

“Right. So, my father never stopped loving the moon. After the night of my conception, he only loved her more. A noblewoman, who’d long been fond of my father, tried to arrange for marriage. He refused and she was insulted. When I came along, she grew angry. She couldn’t curse the moon, but she could curse the moon’s human daughter. And so, because many found me to be a beautiful child, she took away my beauty in the only way she knew how. She cursed me to blink in and out of sight, until the day I’d disappear completely.”

I feel anger starting to grow in myself at the close of her story. Calla did nothing wrong. Her father did nothing wrong, either. She suffers at the hands of a spiteful woman, and it is entirely unfair.

“I am so sorry you’ve had to endure this,” I say.

I hear her shifting around again. She laughs a humorless laugh. “You don’t owe me an apology.”

“No, but…” And then I remember it. The suggestion I made the first time we met. I reach out toward her and she gives me her hand.

I pull her close and find her face.

“Rowan, what is it?” she asks.

“Can I…can I try something?” I ask.

I feel her nodding between my hands. I lean down and press my lips to her face. She laughs a little when my kiss lands on her upper cheek. She cups her hands around my face and guides me to the right spot. I kiss her again, properly this time.

I kiss her so long and so deep that I forget why I started kissing her in the first place. It isn’t until she pushes me away to catch her breath that I open my eyes and see her standing before me.

“Calla!” I exclaim, grinning like a mad man. “It worked!”

She gasps and looks down at herself. “It did!” She looks back up at me, smiling. “Thank you!”

I laugh and take her in my arms, embracing her again. “It is so good to finally see you again!”

She laughs too, but then she freezes. “Maybe, um…maybe don’t look too closely.”

“Nonsense,” I say. I take her by the shoulders and hold her in front of me. “I want to study you forever. You’re my moon now.”

“But…the scar…” Her hand traces a long, light pink scar on the left side of her face. I didn’t even notice it. It does nothing to take away from her beauty.

“I have scars too,” I say, holding up my forearm. Deep claw marks show pretty blatantly on my skin. “You’re still as beautiful as I remember—maybe even more so.”

She looks at me, uncertainty gleaming in those rose-colored eyes. “Do you…do you love me?”

“I broke the curse, didn’t I? But I’ll kiss you again if you don’t believe me,” I say.

She laughs and flushes with embarrassment. “Only if you want to.”

I kiss her again, and then I hold her against me. She smells of pine trees and winter and everything lovely.

“Can I see you again?” I ask.

“Every day for all of my days,” she says.