Jazzi's Notes
I posted this a few months ago under King of the Forest and then, after re-reading it and browsing some of the (three) comments, I decided I didn't really like it all that much. I like it much better now. If you ask very nicely, I might turn this into a collection of 500 word Remus/Sirius moments.

Disclaimer
I don't own Moony. I don't own Wormtail. I don't own Padfoot, Prongs, or the Forbidden Forrest. I do, however, own the original cassette version of Disney's The Lion King and the wording of this fic.

"I can see what's happening."

"What?"

The light of the full moon pulled back the shadows of the Forbidden Forest like the scab from an incurable wound. The darkness bled with the cured howls of the damned.

There was no sanctuary in the forest for man tonight. Corpses turned to canines stalked with envy of what they should have been. But, for once, the animals of the forest were in danger. Werewolves had no taste for animal blood tonight.

The animagi hidden inside a tangle of vines, peering into what had once been 'their' clearing, faced a much more formidable opponent. Perched between the stag's crowning antlers, the fat, gray rat trembled.

"And they don't have a clue."

"Who?"

The pair were downwind of the clearing. The canines inside were oblivious. A large, shaggy dog pinned a malnourished wolf between his front paws and met his eyes as though they were the only living creatures in this vast, untamable world of night.

The wolf whined. "Tell me."

"The truth about my past? Impossible." He released his prisoner and turned to the stars. Sirius blinked faithfully back at him from the heel of Orion, but there was no secret message in his loyal twinkling. Like the family that cherished that sky, it was bent on keeping its secrets. He'd turn away from me.

The wolf staggered up. He was quiet for a while, his tail shyly shifting the leaves on the forest floor, and then suddenly he rammed head-first into the dog's ribs, sending him backwards. A bark that could have been a laugh—or perhaps a laugh that could have been a bark—sent owls shooting from their perches into the night sky.

"They'll fall in love," the stag sighed, "and here's the bottom line . . ."

The canines were quiet again, but not because of an awkwardness between them. The wolf lay on his back, his head curled towards his tail, contemplating the sky. The dog lay on his stomach, his head resting on his paws, contemplating his companion, "What are you thinking about?"

" . . . Our gang's shot down to two."

"You sound like a bird."

"Answer the question, git."

The wolf sighed. "The peace the evening brings: The world, for once, in perfect harmony with all its living things."

"You're bonkers."

"Probably."

The dog realized that his nose was suddenly resting on the muzzle of his friend, but he didn't say anything. His pink tongue tenderly grazed the gray fur. The wolf made a growling sound that sounded almost like a purr.

"And if they fall in love tonight," the stag sighed, turning away from the nauseating scene, "it can be assumed their carefree days with us are history."

"In short?"

"Our mates are doomed."