The Silver Chain

The howling went on all night, sometimes closer, sometimes farther. It kept Aerin awake, for she worried about Fen, who had still not come back and also because the horses below her were nervous with the close proximity of the wolves. They stamped and whinnied to one another all night long.
Late the next afternoon, for sleep had not come to Aerin at all that night, and she had slept in horribly after, she led the horses out to the pasture. She had released the horses into the pasture, and leaned against the fence, for she was tired. A horse nuzzled her braided hair; and, deciding that hay and grass tasted better, turned away; until he caught the unmistakable smell of wolf. He bolted away, as did the others, for horses are flight animals, and will only fight if cornered.
Fen walked down the road, tired looking as Aerin herself felt. There were leaves in his longish hair; he had stubble on his chin, and mud on his clothes. It seemed suddenly odd to Aerin that he should disappear on the one night that wolves should howl in their forest. Whispers of old stories, told only when the fire had burned down low, and the wind howled outside, of the of the Moon’s children, came floating back into her head for some reason.
Fen smiled when he saw her, for he felt things similar to what she felt about their meetings, however brief. He raised a hand in greeting, and saw that her brow wrinkled suddenly, at something about the hand.
Aerin was close enough to see a small shiny patch, a scar, on his hand. It looked quite new, only a few weeks old at most. It was his right hand that he raised, the one she had shaken not but a few weeks previous, wearing her mother’s ring. Last night had been a full moon, a nasty little voice in the back of her mind reminded her; driving her further down the path of discovery.
Fen stopped in front of her, confused by the look on her face. It was suddenly wary and calculating, a far cry from the friendly, welcoming smile that had been replaced. He cocked his head, only slightly, looking for all the world like a dog told suddenly, for no reason, to be still. Little did he know, he condemned himself further with the gesture. Aerin’s amber eyes narrowed, and the truth lay before her.
“You did not come home last night,” she said to the confused Fen, who heard in her voice that she was quite angry. His chin rose a bit, like a dog baring its throat, or, she thought grimly, like a wolf, would.
“There are stories of the Moon’s children about again,” she said conversationally, for she had long since lost her fear of speaking to Fen, her eyes flashing. She saw by his face that he knew that she knew what he was.
Aerin whirled, and started to run. Fen caught her hand, calling her name. She whipped around, struck his face with her other hand, the one that bore her mother’s ring, and, released immediately, ran blindly from him, blind from a sense of betrayal.
Fen blinked against the pain that the silver caused, though another ache, the one that was in his chest, had wounded him far more. It was like a heated spoon had been driven through his breastbone. As soon as he could stand without falling over; for Aerin was very strong from years of stable work, and with the strength of desperation to flee him; he Changed, and set after her with a speed that he did not know he possessed. She had run in the direction of the forest, where his brethren were. Half of the pack had come south after another incident, more violent in nature, had occurred. He had been sent to talk sense into them, though as of yet, this had not worked. They were not at their most human-friendly at the moment, and would likely kill Aerin on sight.