ORIGINS: After the canned sardines, we went with another fish that tastes like metal: the bullet fish. And everybody knows that silver bullets are the bane of every wolf’s life.
Poor little wolf, you should never have stopped baying at the moon. The Night is not like the Blue Sky. It’s not empty and forgetful. The Night is an ocean full of little lights, where nothing is ever forgotten. If you had been baying at the stars it might have been different, you might have been forgiven. But you chose the moon. You chose someone who will never let go of the grudges she holds. You should have run, little wolf. From the bullets. From the fish the moon sent after you. To collect your blood. Or was that your plan all along? Were you in love, little wolf? Do you want the Red Moon to remember you and never let go of the love you bled for her?
That wasn’t supposed to happen. You didn’t play your part properly. You were supposed to be just another pierrot, someone willing to get the moon for me. I asked for the moon. Something silver and shiny. I never asked for a fish. You were supposed to try to catch the moon. I never expected you to succeed. I only wanted to feel loved, I only wanted to see how far you would go for me. A ladder. A roof. The sky, halfway to the moon at most. I never expected you to die. To catch a fish made of silver, with your teeth, with a sneer, and die hating me.
I always thought that moonlight had a musical quality to it, but I thought that wolves like you were just the accompaniment. I never knew that the lyrics were yours. That the words that soothed me and put all my fears to rest came out of your mouth. I never knew that I had been sleeping soundly thanks to you. All those times I felt like a fish, smoothly entering my dreams. All those times I felt like silver, shining in my sleep. I never knew it was thanks to you. But now I do. And I feel guilty. Because the moon has commandeered my dreams. She has turned them into silver bullets, and she keeps shooting them at you. I’m sorry, my wolf. Please run. Faster. Just a little bit more. My childhood is almost over. And I promise not to dream anymore.
The time has finally come, my fearless warriors, to bring down the moon! We shall succeed where so many others have failed before! Remember my words! We shall hunt all the howling wolves that keep the moon floating in the night! The ocean shall be ours to command! All the waves! All those priceless fish! The moon’s treasure shall be ours! All the wisdom, all the memories of ages long past! Follow me, my warriors, raise your swords! Let’s start hunting wolves!