'Twas midnight on the island, and naught could be heard in the park, save for the sound of a harmonica. If one were to look carefully enough, they might even find the one playing said instrument. However, at this time, most were in bed, save for those that thrived in the light of Luna. One of these particular citizens was a lone wolfkin sitting on a branch about half way up one of the trees while he played a sad melody. Indeed, this one was full of sorrow. He cried out, not with his voice, but with his instrument for a land that he could no-longer reach. His home of Ireland, lost to him when his father sent him to the academy to learn how to better use this gift that he had been given. However, the boy had never asked for his gift, and saw it as more of a burden than anything. It was the only thing keeping him from going home, along with his father's words. The boy spoke not for now, as he didn't want to alert others to his presence. Rather, he simply wished to enjoy the light of the moon while playing a melody, in order to calm his nerves about being in what he saw as unfamiliar and uncharted territory. Were someone to spot him, he would likely try to flee for fear of being seen as strange or unusual, given his beast-like appearance, however small such qualities might actually be. In such an unfamiliar setting, fear and sorrow were the only emotions he knew. And so, he kept on playing his songs, waiting for the night to end, and the day to begin.
What was with people playing instruments late at night? It wasn't like there was a law against it (at least not in this case), but it was the exact kind of thing that threw people off and made them call the non-emergency line.