When her ship passed beyond the Moon, she changed.
It felt like a migraine at first, except with purpose. Then it moved from her mind to her head itself, like invisible fingers crawling along her brow, her nose, her cheeks, her lips, her jaw. Tearing them open, breaking to build, muscle and sinew and bone.
A terrified breath expanded her chest, ribs, and spine. Strips of skin and hunks of flesh slopped off her body, a cry for help lowered into a warbling howl. But no soul heard it.
The moonlight had kept her human; the darkness brought the wolf.
Author bio: Dylan Cary is an emerging young author living on the tail end of Southern California, amid cacti and palm fronds. She enjoys writing SFF and romance with a twist. Follow her on her continuing writerly pursuits @dylcarywrites on Twitter.
Moonlight is part of 101 Fiction issue 20.