Аннотация: The root may be found in Kisunika's account. "The tale of moon light". Thank you. http://zhurnal.lib.ru/m/medwedewa_ekaterina_aleksandrowna/luna.shtml
Mother had forgotten to draw the curtains. Gea woke up because the Moon was shining straight through the window. Gea looked at the Moon - and, frightened, blinked the eyes - somebody had just flashed across the light opening. May be, he is in right now? Somebody... evil and strange, blind night creature, which, being unrest, roves over sleeping lands, glancing at children's bedrooms...
Gea was alone against all power of Nightwolf. At the very moment of crying she suddenly remembered her mother's Poem of Moon-light. But in fact she could remember only one qutrain:
Moon, Moon, Moon, silver Moon
On the skydom killing Gloom
Which defends us from the Loon
And will frighten somber Doom.
... She began in a faltering but accelerating voice to whisper this like a guard spell, feeling her night-dress being wet on the back. Her eyes were still half-blinked, but she couldn't close them at all, imbibed by alien ancient force of endless Darkness. And then...
And then Mother came. Her left hand was on the right shoulder of very little, but incredibly astonishing girl with silver hair. Gea thought that she is the same girl as she herself is mature and adult in her 14 years.
- Mum, what?
But her mother was standing like a cold statue, silent and moveless.
- Where is he, Gea? - evenly asked this creature, flared up by eyes, full of depth.
- How do you know? Who are you? - could tell pale Gea, wraping herself in the thin natal quilt.
- Nevermind, just understand that I know him. We call him Nosblaidd, or Nightwolf in your language. In these nights he flies over the roofs, scratching the window's glass. He searches for... Well, tell me - is you afraid of him?
- Yes, it's the second night when I feel something horrible beyond the window. - Gea relaxed a little and decided to continue such wonderful conversation. - And somehow I know his name, though don't know why. But why?
- Almost all girls know his name, but usually they can't believe in this ancient knowledge. Ah, his second name is Gwirionyn or Loon, as you used in your spell. We've heard your spell. I came to protect you.
- Thank you, strange girl, - civilly told Gea, remembering about her mother. - Will mummy become normal.
- Yes. But if you wish to be freed of him, you have to loose something.
- What? - Gea was confused with one idea, which wasn't very new for her. - Don't you mean that...?
- No. There is nothing harmful for your health. - smiled girl - The thing which you have to loose isn't a thing at all, it's more a complex of situations that will never happen if you agree.
- May I know about these situations? - Gea was intrigued till tremor.
- Yes. But only after, if you is lucky.
- It's so oddly. Can I think a little?
- Of course, Gea. You can. But he also can - he can return right at the moment and I can defend you only after your assent.
As if somebody listened to their words the window surface abnormally saged with weird sound.
- Yes, yes, I agree!!! - cried Gea...
And then she woke up again...
The tender look of the sun was like a hit-on-a-fly. Gea with the still thumping heart perplexedly looked around. She found herself lying on a wide bed, surrounded with a lot of different people of both genders and various age.
- What's going on? - she asked the space.
- Nothing, granny, - were the words of beatiful young girl with appearance of natural lady. Her eyes were glittering of tears.
- wo'hap..., - Gea was paralized with a fright.
By chance she took a look at her hands and saw them as thin as the bones, with a skin covered by black patches. Gea cried out. She understood, what she had lost - life, full of wonders, dangers and strangeness. In place of it she had received so boring, normal, usual, predictable life, that only end meant something. Because the death somehow is a wonder. Gea was crying: I'm not afraid of you, Nightwolf!...
- I'm not afraid of you, Nightwolf!, - almost breathless happy bobby-soxer was huging the big black head of the greatest wolf, incomer through the window. The head was aloud warm under hair.