You say it's either you

or the Moon, & whichever one I don't choose will be gone forever. & all I can muster is: What about the werewolves? All the misunderstood wandering furballs of the night, who depend on the Moon's pearly light to snap their spines into their truest form, their most wonderfully wild selves, shaggy & free to howl at whatever star they want.

How can I take that away from them?

You were a moon once. In the beginning.

Don't you remember? How your light passed through me, made me translucent, showed me the real me, the me beneath this awful, human skin suit. You used to shine every night, but now you've waned into nothing, or something cruel enough to make me choose between the Moon & a forlorn love. Tonight, I leave. Tonight, I prowl the silver fields with the beasts I know & care for.