Bared By The Moon

The scent of damp earth and pine needles clung to me, a ghost of the morning's walk. I'd needed that quiet moment before the storm, before the exhibition. Closing my eyes, the image of the wolf, silhouetted against the dawn, burned into my mind – magnificent, wild, free. Opening them, the glass doors of the Crestwood College gallery loomed ahead. Showtime.

(Hazel's POV)

"The brie bites! They've vanished!" Mrs. Dubois flapped her hands like a frantic hen. I winced. This was my first exhibition, ever, and Mrs. Dubois's "emergencies" were already legendary. Our faculty advisor, not quite a curator but close enough in the chaotic pre-show prep, was a petite woman with large brown eyes and perpetually swirling hair.

I'd only been at Crestwood College for a month, still navigating the labyrinth of lecture halls and the even more complex social dynamics of the art department.

I sidestepped Mrs. Dubois, the familiar aroma of printer ink and slightly stale coffee filling my nostrils – the scent everyone else associated with countless opening nights. For me, it was just...anxiety.

The projector coughed, a dry, rattling sound, and the image on the wall – my "Frozen Moments" logo, a stylized snowflake – flickered. Tonight was the culmination of months of work.

My photography. Finally on display. This was my chance. To prove I belonged. To prove I wasn't just some transfer student trying to fit in. But this exhibition was about more than just my art. It was about answers.

Crestwood wasn't just any college. It was the Crestwood, the town where, just a month ago, everything had changed. My first visit, taking photos for this very exhibition, had led me to the woods. And in those woods, I'd met a wolf. And then...him. Kian. I'd felt drawn to this place ever since, an inexplicable pull that had ultimately led to my transfer.

Tonight, I felt like I was walking a tightrope, high above the ground, with no safety net.

Liam, my close friend, attempted to hang a large canvas print, his arms flailing precariously as he balanced on a wobbly chair. Liam was handsome, with striking blue-green eyes and a broad build.

At the far end of the hall, Chloe, my ride-or-die, meticulously arranged programs, her brow furrowed in concentration. Chloe, petite with beautiful brown hair and plump lips just like mine, was the anchor in my life. People always commented on how much we looked alike, a bond that went beyond mere physical resemblance.

"Liam, for the love of Ansel Adams, be careful!" I exclaimed, my voice cracking with a nervous laugh. "That's the centerpiece!"

Liam grinned, unfazed. "Relax, Hazel. I've got this. Besides," he added with a wink, "a little drama is good for the soul, right?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Only if it doesn't involve your clumsy self destroying Hazel's art." My face relaxed into a grateful smile.

This exhibition, "Urban Wilds," was my baby, a collection of photographs capturing the hidden beauty in the heart of the city – the stark contrast of nature reclaiming urban spaces, and the quiet resilience of life persisting amidst concrete and steel.

Each image held a piece of me, a reflection of my journey. But it was also a test, a chance to prove myself after the...incident. The gallery owner's dismissive remarks still stung. "Interesting...but lacking a certain...spark." Tonight, I was determined to show them all.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate for escape, as I surveyed the gallery, taking in the controlled chaos. Izzy, from my art class, chewed her lip, adjusting the lighting, muttering about "warm tones and dramatic shadows." Javier, a classmate of ours, fine-tuned the sound system, fingers dancing across the trackpad.

Even my parents bustled about, beaming with pride, oblivious to the secret that simmered beneath my skin – the secret I suspected was connected to the forest, the wolf, the strange crescent-shaped birthmark on my hip.

A shiver ran down my spine as I glanced out the window at the dark silhouette of the forest against the cityscape. Ever since my encounter with the wolf, I'd felt a strange pull towards the woods, a sense of...recognition? The image of those piercing golden eyes was burned into my mind.

He was magnificent. Powerful. Wild. And there was something...familiar about him.

"Earth to Hazel!" Chloe's voice broke through my reverie. "Everything okay? You seem a million miles away."

"Just pre-exhibition jitters," I mumbled, forcing a smile.

"Well, snap out of it," Liam said, finally managing to hang the print. "We've got a show to put on!"

As the gallery filled, my mind raced with worst-case scenarios. All those eyes, judging my work, judging me. Relief washed over me as I spotted my parents near the entrance, their faces beaming.

They had always encouraged my passion, nurturing my talent. They had no idea of the other side of me, the part drawn to the wild, the part that dreamt of wolves, the part that had unknowingly ventured into real-life wolf territory.

Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself why I loved photography. It wasn't about accolades. The room hummed with polite chatter. I moved through the crowd, exchanging smiles, until I stopped before a group gathered around my photograph of a lone wolf.

"He was silhouetted on a ridge," I said, my voice filled with excitement. "A speck against that vast, breathtaking landscape." The image came alive in my mind – the fiery sunset, the wolf's piercing gaze, the awe that had washed over me.

Interest rippled through the group. "And the condors," I continued, my voice gaining momentum. "They were circling above the canyon, riding the thermals.

You could feel the power in their wings, the ancient wisdom in their eyes." The atmosphere shifted. Polite smiles gave way to engaged expressions.

Then I saw him. Kian. He stood near the back, his tall, imposing figure radiating quiet power.

He moved through the crowd, his gaze never leaving mine. Dressed casually, he still possessed an untamed elegance.

His deep brown hair was tied back loosely, revealing a rugged face, etched with lines and a faint scar along his jaw. His golden eyes, flecked with amber, held a mystery as deep as the forest. His lean, muscular body suggested a quiet strength. His golden eyes, flecked with amber, met mine, and my breath hitched. The air between us crackled.

"There was something in his eyes – an intensity that made my breath catch, and beneath it, a flicker...was it long? Curiosity?"

He stopped before me, his presence filling my senses. He smelled of pine needles and something else, something wild and intoxicating. "Your photographs are...extraordinary," he said, his voice deep and resonant.

"Thank you," I replied, breathless.

"They capture the essence of the city," he continued. "The wildness that lies beneath the surface."

"That's what I was trying to convey," I said.

He smiled, a slow, captivating smile that made my stomach flip. "You succeeded," he said.

We stood there, the silence charged with unspoken energy.

I could feel his gaze on me, searching mine. A strange pull, a connection I couldn't explain. It's like I know him. Like I've known him my whole life.

"I...I should probably mingle," I said, breaking the silence.

"Of course," he replied. "I'll let you get back to your guests."

He stepped back, his gaze lingering. "I'll be around," he murmured.

I watched him disappear into the crowd, unable to shake the feeling that our encounter was more than chance.

There was something about him, something about the way he looked at me, that made me believe our paths were destined to cross.

The rest of the evening was a blur – smiles, clinking glasses, snippets of conversation. My mind kept drifting back to Kian, his golden eyes, the strange connection.

As the exhibition closed, the tension unwound. I had survived. More than that, I connected with people, shared my vision, and made a lasting impression.

Liam and Chloe gathered around me, beaming. "You were amazing, Hazel!" Liam exclaimed. "Everyone loved your work!"

"You were a star," Chloe added. "I told you you had nothing to worry about."

My eyes welled up. "I couldn't have done it without you," I whispered.

"Where are Izzy and Javier?" I asked.

"They left early," Liam replied.

Chloe patted my cheek. "Stop it now, Hazel, you'll make us cry too" we laughed.

As we packed up, my parents came over, their eyes filled with love. "We're so proud of you, sweetheart," my mom said. "You're so talented," my dad added. "You're going to go far."

I smiled a genuine smile. I felt peaceful, and at ease. I was lucky to have such supportive parents. And maybe one day I'd be bold enough to tell them about the wild dreams.

As we packed the last photographs, I noticed a small, folded piece of paper on the floor. I picked it up and unfolded it. It was a note, written in elegant script.

"I know what you are."

My breath hitched. My hand trembled, the paper crinkling slightly. I looked around. The guests were all gone.

Who wrote this note? What did they mean by "What" instead of "Who"?

Goosebumps erupted on my arms.