When you were only a few months old, a wolf came out of the woods and attacked you. The other villagers managed to save you, killing the wolf. You carry the scar on your shoulder from the bite.

Walking to your cabin in the middle of the night, an overwhelming pain made you crumble to the ground.

A man came out of the woods, cradling your writhing body in his arms.

“It’s okay little moon, I have you.” He spoke softly, calmly.

“The first transformation is always the worst.”