The Moon Kills

The moon shone full and round, as Sumer ran. The sleek, beautiful, pure white Night-Cat, with the most wondrous bright blue eyes, pounded after her. Its razor-sharp claws and shiny teeth flashed with the reflected light of the pure, white moon. Sumer's green eyes were wild with fear, her midnight-black hair flowing behind her. She wore the traditional garb of the Festival of the Moon, the dancing, sparkling cloak of the Runner. She was chosen, above all others, to run. To save her town. To lift the curse. Her curse, now. To outrun this wild Moon-Beast, it had been all she ever wanted. But now she'd give anything, anything, to sit inside Bubba's icy cold tent and listen to the Elders and their boring speeches. But it was too late. The Beast was almost upon her. Sumer knew she would die. She knew it. So she did the craziest thing.
    
She stopped running.

The accursed feline also stopped, confused. Sumer was waist-high in the frigid waters of the Kanyon.

The Cat looked at Sumer. Its eyes became a more vibrant blue, and it let out a terrible roar. This roar, it contained everything---love, pain, anger, sorrow, happiness, jealousy--but overall, a sense of remorse. It could not reside where Sumer did. This terrible, beautiful creature let out one last wail of longing, then turned and disappeared into the glistening, waving mist, in between the papaya trees.

Sumer gaped, in shock. Then she did something no one in her village had done in a long time.

She smiled.