And in Waltzed the Moon

[Nathaniel Gallivan]

• The night air was warm on the whole, with a slight crispness to it provided by the light wind. The sun had passed beneath the horizon some time ago, but it was not yet late enough for the village streets to be considered an unsavoury place for one to walk. The street was lit by a combination of glowing windows, dimly lit lamps, and the glow of the moonùnot quite full, but close enough to aggravate the wizard who walked beneath it. His ætime of the month' was quickly approaching, making Nathaniel Gallivan more restless by the day. The ill feeling he felt whenever night drew nearer coupled with the anxiety of his first transformation with Veronica in the house was making this month more stressful than the countless months before it, and so the werewolfùhow he hated that wordùfelt a brief jaunt around the village would be in his best interests.
  
  While he was not fully alone, the streets were hardly the busiest he had seen them, for which the man was relieved. In spite of the fact that, typically, he was quite happy to stop for a quick word on his walks, Thaniel was uncertain that his current state would make him particularly good companyùthough should the need arise, he was well aware that I could, to an extent, do his best to hide it (as he had done with his new wife for the past few days).
  
  The dull throbbing between his temples prompted the wizard to sit down. The bench was across the street from The Three Broomsticks, enabling him to watch the villagers coming and going from the establishment without being one of them. Nathaniel shook his head: he lothed how self-pitying his condition made him, did his best to moderate his feelings about it. Tonight, it seemed, he was losing that particular tug-of-war, making him feel all the worse about himself. He sighed and rose to his feet once more, determined to bring himself back to reality. He strode into the pubùwhile he was not much of a drinker, he would be a foolish man indeed to dispute the social benefits of the location. As if walking to the hangman's noose, he made his way to the bar, sliding easily onto a stool.
  
  "Butterbeer, please," Thaniel requested.