The werewolf ran through the field, the gentle light of the moon reflecting on her fur. Oh, the moon. She paused, looking up at the darling moon and all the little stars surrounding her. She loved the moon, loved her silver light, loved the dots and craters scattered all over her, that if she looked at just right, almost looked like a face. A face that smiled the nicest of smiles, as if smiling just for the werewolf.  
 
She stood, craning her neck so her lupine eyes looked right at the moon, reflecting in her eyes. She yearned for the moon, for more than just her light, she yearned to run across her, to feel the dust beneath her paws. To be close to her. 
 
"Darling moon, why must you be so far? Why can't I reach you, no matter how far I stretch my arms, you stay so far away." 
 
The moon did not respond, and the werewolf heard no sound but the quiet clicking of crickets. She sank back down onto her knees, still looking at the moon. The werewolf wished for the moon to do something, anything, back.  
 
"How does it feel, being so far out of reach? Where no man nor beast can reach you?" She looked at her fur covered hands, then back at the sky. She glanced around at the stars surrounding her beloved moon, wondering if they were lucky enough to get more than silence.  
 
"...I love you, moon." she said with a small whimper. But the moon said nothing back. She whined louder, eyes still locked on the beautiful silver circle that was so far away. She grew anxious, worried, that the moon did not reciprocate.  
 
"Do you... hate me?" She asked, louder than before, almost like a bark. And yet, nothing. The moon persisted in her silence, almost ignoring the werewolf. "Are you so unwilling to talk to me? Please, my dear moon, I love you. I do. I am changed by you. My life is all for you. My dear... where are you?" 
 
Her ears lowered as she continued to get no response. The moon continued to shine, the stars continued to sparkle against the darkness of night, and the werewolf continued to sit alone. Lonely.  
 
She watched the moon for the remainder of the night, eyes fixed on her, memorizing every bit of her. Occasionally, she would look at herself, her own ragged brown fur in stark contrast to the elegance of the moon. She wondered if there was something she could do to get the moon's gaze to go her way, but could think of nothing. 
 
And when the sun began to rise, began to hide her dear moon away behind the bright blue sky, she cried for her, yelled for her to come back. Even as she shed her wolfish traits, became a normal human woman once more, she lay curled on the grass, gentle tears running down her face, silently begging the moon to come back. And she always comes back.  
 
The next night, she became a wolf once more, leaping around the field while watching her beloved in the sky above her. She asked once more if she was loved. If the moon loved her. If the moon, too, wanted to hold her. And again was met with no answer. She would not lose hope, no matter how many times the sun would take the one she loved away, no matter how many times she was met with no response. The werewolf loved the moon, even if she knew somewhere in her that she would never get that love back.