Living in Shadows

The black tempestuous waters roared and snarled under the darkening sky, crashing deafeningly against the concrete barriers put up to contain the fetid waters poluted by Man's machines.
The moon shone fully overhead, a great eye looking over a city so lost in itself that it, like all cities in its time was isolated, locked in it's own bubble of life. It's people rushing around, taking no notice of one another. Standing leaning against this barrier staring into the waters was a man young in appearance with hair the colour of the rare stone, known as Apache tears,  a black so deep it blended to the night, his eyes coffee-coloured and burning with a barley withheld passion looked up at the moon, almost full, Just like when he was a child..
The moon was a great eye, watching him reveling in his freedom. He never listened, how often he was told to not wander the moors by night, but the moon was full and the first snows were falling, how could he resist the urge to dance among the lacy flakes. Young and carefree, never believing the tales his elders told him of the great beast that ran the moor.
A creature that was only spoken of in whispers around the moons zenith, something all feared. But time passes and the Beast because a mere tool to frighten children into being good.
That was the reason that he felt no fear dancing in the moonlight across the moors. The Beast was not real and his parents would not catch him, he had done this many times, never before though had he done it at the full moon, but he would do it again, dance by full moon on the moor, but not as man, as beast
It happened so suddenly, yet so slowly. The Boy turned and glanced at the woods, eyes widening as he saw It come out of the trees, moving so fast, yet he could see every detail of it.  Then all he saw was the eyes Golden and blazing. Pain and then the numbing cold of the snow and a fading howl as he fell into darkness.
His parents had found him, bleeding, unconscious on the snow. He was brought inside and it was thought he would not live to see the sun rise, at one point the healer said he was dead, yet when the sun did rise his eyes opened. The Healer was pleased and a somewhat arrogant sort taking all credit and not giving a second thought to the fact that at some point during the night, the boy had stopped breathing, and not started again till just as the sun rose. He was thankful of that man, he had ignored his gut instinct and when the next full moon was approaching offered for the Boy, whom was feeling ill, to stay a night at his house. Healer had become First Meal.

Many say that you cannot remember your first Turn, he could though, and he would remember it till his final days.

Shaking his head with a small laugh Darren turned away from the river he had been staring out over as his thoughts had turned, thinking about things that had been, but that was long ago,  longer than one would think looking at him. But Darren had learned long ago, how deceptive appearances could be, in a city like this you never can tell what secrets one hides.