The smell hit my head like music at full volume. Sweet, warm, alive. I didn't realize at first that it wasn't just the "scent of a human" - it was the scent of blood. Fresh blood.
Hunger howled.
Not out loud - inside. As if a beast had been locked inside me and someone had just cracked open its cage. My stomach clenched painfully, but it wasn't the usual hunger, not just an empty belly. This was deeper. In my bones, in my throat, under my tongue.
*Go,* - the voice whispered. - *You need it. You'll freeze. You'll die. Just a little - take just a little...*
I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw cracked. The taste of blood - foreign, imaginary, unreal - rose on my tongue. I hadn't eaten anyone. I hadn't done anything. But my body already knew how it would feel.
"Shut up." - I breathed.
The voice wasn't offended. It even grew softer, almost caring.
*You're not human anymore. You need something else. It's not a sin - it's nature.*
"I'm human," - I hissed. - "As long as I can think, as long as I can choose - I'm human."
*Until hunger chooses for you.*
I moved toward the light. Not because I wanted to - because standing still had become unbearable. Every breath brought new details: the iron of blood, the salt of sweat, the faint scent of cheap soap. The closer I got - the clearer it became.
Someone was hurt.
*It'll be easier,* - the voice whispered. - *It's already open. Already flowing. No need to break, no need to tear. Just... closer.*
I gripped the trunk of a tree as the smell hit me harder. The bark crunched too easily - like dry cardboard. I looked down - deep indentations marked where my fingers had pressed. The wood had cracked.
Strength. Foreign. Unfamiliar. Dangerous.
"I won't," - I said - to the tree, to myself, to the voice. - "Not now. Not ever. Not anyone."
Silence for a few seconds. Then a dry chuckle inside my skull.
*We'll see.*
The light wasn't from a flashlight or a house. Between the trees, an opening revealed a narrow snow-covered road. A car stood by the roadside - a dark SUV, slightly tilted, with a dented hood. The headlights were on, illuminating a strip of road and a broken tree ahead.
And someone was lying in the snow beside it.
I froze at the edge of the forest. The headlights stung my eyes, but my vision quickly adjusted. I saw everything too clearly.
A man. Around forty, maybe older. Dark jacket, scarf, his hat had fallen and lay to the side. Pale face, a dark stain in the snow spreading from his leg. The leg was twisted at a strange angle, the pant leg torn, and blood oozed from the wound.
Warm.
Alive.
The world narrowed to that red patch.
*See?* - the voice said, almost tenderly. - *This isn't murder. It's mercy. He's going to die anyway. You're just... not letting it go to waste.*
I took a step forward - and immediately punched myself in the thigh. Hard. Hard enough to make my vision darken.
Pain brought back some clarity.
"No," - I hissed. - "No. No."
The man groaned. Faint, but to me it was like a scream in my ear. I looked up. He was alive. His eyes opened slightly, unfocused and cloudy.
"H–hey," - he croaked. - "Who... there...?"
I swallowed. My throat burned.
*He's calling you,* - the voice snickered. - *You hear that?*
"I'm not here for that," - I said aloud, as if justifying myself to him, to me, to the forest. - "I... I'm here to help."
The words sounded foreign. Too proper, too human, against the backdrop of my trembling hands.
I stepped onto the road. The snow crunched underfoot - loud as a gunshot. The man turned his head, saw me. For a moment, I caught a flash of fear in his eyes - instinctive, animal, like a deer sensing a predator.
And I understood: he could feel it.
I stopped two steps away. The smell of blood wasn't just a smell anymore - it was almost visible. I could probably point out the exact location of the wound with my eyes closed, how deep it was, how fast he was bleeding.
My stomach twisted. My mouth watered.
*Take a deeper breath,* - the voice whispered. - *Allow yourself. Just a breath.*
I inhaled. And immediately regretted it.
Blood. Life. Warmth. Not just food - power. The feeling that if I stepped closer, leaned down, touched... everything would become easier. The hunger would fade. The ache in my bones would vanish. The cold under my skin would retreat.
My mouth opened on its own.
I clenched my teeth so hard they cracked.
"Who... are you?" - the man rasped, trying to focus. - "Did you... call... ambulance...?"
I swallowed hard. Ambulance. Phone. I had no phone. I had nothing.
*Tell him the truth,* - the voice smirked. - *Tell him you're his end.*
"I... I got lost," - I stammered. - "No phone."
His breathing quickened. I saw his chest rise and fall, heard the whistle of air in his lungs. Heard, drop by drop, his blood leaving his body.
*He won't live long enough for help,* - the voice said quietly. - *You could just walk away. Or...*
I dropped to my knees beside him. The snow under my hand felt warm from his blood. The warmth seeped through my pants, and it made me shiver.
"Hang on," - I said, unrecognizable even to myself. - "I'll... try... something."
*What?* - the voice almost laughed. - *You're not a doctor. You're a predator. The only thing you can do is...*
"Shut up." - I whispered through my teeth.
My hands moved on their own. I tore the remains of his pant leg, exposing the wound. The sight of blood, raw flesh, ragged skin - once it would have made me nauseous. Now - the opposite. Hunger howled so loud it rang in my ears.
I recoiled, bracing a hand in the snow. My fingers sank into the red patch. The warmth burned my skin.
I brought my hand to my face.
The smell was unbearable.
*Lick it,* - the whisper turned husky, low. - *Just a drop. You're not biting. Just... tasting.*
My hand trembled. Closer. Closer still. A thin line of blood stretched from my finger. I watched it slide, and each movement echoed in my throat.
I grabbed my wrist with my other hand. Hard. Digging in my nails. Pain flared bright.
"No."
The word wasn't for the voice. It was for me. An anchor.
I plunged my hand into the snow, scrubbing it clean until my fingers went numb. Inhale. Exhale. One. Two. Three.
The man coughed. A thin stream of red appeared on his lips.
*See?* - the voice said softly, almost sympathetically. - *He's slipping away. You could've taken a little, and it wouldn't have mattered. He'll die anyway.*
"Maybe," - I hissed, wrapping his leg with a strip from my hoodie, which I had just torn apart. The fabric ripped like paper. - "But not because of me."
I tightened the makeshift tourniquet, and each time the bleeding slowed, the hunger retreated a little further. Not gone - just pushed back, angry. I felt it pacing in its cage.
"What's... your name...?" - the man murmured, blinking.
I froze.
Name.
My name.
A flash: a bus, a phone, a contact list... I tried to recall what I had been called "before." A sound on the tip of my tongue. A letter. A syllable.
Nothing.
Like someone had erased it with a rubber, leaving only a blank space.
I inhaled sharply.
"I... don't remember." - I admitted.
*But you remember what you are now,* - the voice replied, pleased. - *That's what matters.*
"Shh," - I said to him. - "Don't talk. Save your strength."
The man closed his eyes. His breathing evened slightly - or maybe I just wanted to believe that. I looked around.
The road stretched into darkness in both directions. No headlights, no houses, not even distant lights. Only forest and snow. And me.
*You can't save him,* - the voice said calmly, without mockery. - *But you can save yourself.*
"I'm not..." - I began, then stopped.
I really couldn't. No signal. No cars. No one. Just me and the hunger that grew stronger with every breath.
Still.
I couldn't leave.
I sat down next to him, leaning against the car. Snow soaked through my clothes, but I barely felt the cold - only the one inside, the one jackets don't help with. I could hear his heartbeat - slow, erratic. I heard how his blood struggled through his veins.
Hunger hissed.
*You'll go mad if you sit here. Hearing. Feeling. And not taking.*
"Then I'll go mad," - I said. - "But I won't become... this."
*This - what? Yourself?*
"You." - I exhaled.
For a moment, everything inside went silent. As if the voice had stepped back. Then it returned, cold as ice.
*I am you. And the longer you resist, the more it'll hurt when you break. And you will break. The only question is - on whom.*
I closed my eyes.
I saw the bus. Flashing lights. The phone in my hand. My reflection in the window - blurry, tired. I remembered thinking: *If I disappear, would anyone even notice?*
Now - they would. But not the way I once hoped.
"I'd rather starve,"- I whispered, - "than hurt a person."
The voice was silent for a long time. But somewhere at the edge of my mind, the beast kept circling.
*We'll see.* - it finally said.
Time passed thick and slow. I didn't know how long we sat there - ten minutes, an hour, forever. The man drifted in and out. I checked his pulse each time - it was there. Weak, but there. Each beat echoed in my skull like a drum.
Hunger never left. But I began to... live with it. Not accept - just adapt. Like a toothache that never lets you forget it, but you go on anyway.
I counted his heartbeats. One. Two. Three. If I lost count - I started again. It helped. A little.
Far off, I heard an engine.
I lifted my head sharply. My hearing caught it long before the headlights appeared on the horizon. A car. Real. Alive.
*See?* - the voice sniffed. - *He didn't even die. You could've taken some. No one would've known.*
"I would've known." - I answered.
The light approached. The car braked, tires skidding on the snow. Someone jumped out, shouting, doors slamming. The man beside me stirred, tried to speak, but only coughed.
"Hey!" - someone shouted. - "God, you're alive?!"
I stepped back. Instinctively. Not because I feared people. Because I feared myself near them.
Two of them - a man and a woman - ran to the injured one. The woman dropped to her knees, checking his pulse. The man looked around, spotted me.
"Who are you?" - he asked sharply. - "Are you with him? What happened?"
I opened my mouth - and realized I didn't know what to say. *"I appeared in the woods from nowhere, turned into a wendigo, and have spent the last hour not eating your friend"* - didn't sound great.
"I... found him," - I managed. - "The car... crashed. He was lying here. I... tied his leg."
The woman glanced at the tourniquet, nodded.
"You did good. He'd have bled out," - she muttered. - "We've got signal, we called for help. You... are you okay? You're white as snow."
*White as snow,* - the voice chuckled. - *Tell her inside you're black ice.*
"I... yeah," - I lied. - "Just cold."
In truth, I felt like I'd been turned inside out. My head throbbed, hunger clawed at me, but near these people it became... different. It was still there, but now mixed with something else: shame. Disgust. Fear.
Not for me. For them.
"Get in the car," - the man said, nodding to his SUV. - "It's warmer. The ambulance is on the way. Police too. We'll figure it out."
Police.
I imagined: questions, ID, name, address. All the things I no longer had. All that had been erased with my past life.
*Go,* - the voice said unexpectedly calm. - *It's warm. Tight. Full of human scent. Let's see how long you last.*
I stepped back.
"I... can't," - I said. - "I have to go. Down the road. I was... just passing through."
The man frowned.
"You living in the woods? There's nothing around here for twenty kilometers. It's night. Freezing. Are you insane?"
"I'll manage," - I breathed. - "What matters is... he's okay now..."
I nodded toward the injured man. The woman was already on the phone, speaking fast and clear. The man looked from me to his friend, then back.
In his eyes, for a moment, I saw what I'd seen in the injured man's - a flicker of instinctive caution. Like somewhere in the back of his brain a light blinked: *danger*. Though I just stood there.
"All right," - he said finally. - "Your choice. But... thanks for not walking by."
I nodded. Words stuck in my throat.
I turned and walked back into the forest.
Each step was heavy - not physically, but morally. I felt the headlights on my back, heard voices, the distant wail of an ambulance siren. The human world. Help. Warmth.
And I walked away from it.
*Why?* - the voice asked. No mockery - just genuine curiosity. - *You could've stayed. Pretended. Lived among them. Until...*
"Until I slip," - I answered quietly. - "Until I wake up with someone's blood on my hands and remember... how good it tasted."
The word escaped on its own. I flinched.
The voice purred in satisfaction.
*You're already thinking in that language.*
I stopped in the shadows and looked back. The headlights cut a stage out of the road like a theater scene. I saw people fussing over the wounded man. Saw the ambulance arrive, its lights illuminating snowbanks, tree trunks - my own shadow.
The shadow... wasn't quite mine.
On the snow beside my feet, a figure stretched - human, but elongated, with jagged edges. And above the head - something like antlers. Thin like branches, but too distinct to be just tricks of light.
I slowly raised my hand. The shadow mirrored me. The antlers twitched.
*That's who you are,* - the voice said gently. - *Not a hero. Not a savior. A predator who chose to play human today.*
"Maybe," - I agreed. - "But as long as I choose - I decide who I am."
The hunger coiled tighter, as if preparing to strike. I breathed in. Breathed out. And stepped deeper into the forest, where there was no light, no people, no scent of blood.
The cold met me like home.
I walked, not minding the path. The forest no longer felt alien - more like wary. Like a beast sniffing a new scent, deciding whether to bite. Snow crunched underfoot, air burned my lungs. But inside, beneath the layers of hunger and fear, a tiny, stubborn spark flickered.
I had chosen.
I didn't know how long I could hold on. Didn't know what would happen when the hunger grew stronger. Didn't know what lay ahead - except for the image that had flashed earlier: stone walls, black vines, a sign reading "Nevermore Academy."
But I knew one thing:
If I had become a monster - I'd be one that could still say *no*.
Even if every *no* came at a painful cost.
Somewhere ahead, beyond the trees, a faint crunch of snow. Footsteps. A scent - not human, but alive.
The hunger stirred.
I clenched my fists.
"All right," - I said to the darkness. - "Let's see who breaks first, Wednesday's world."
The forest answered with silence.
And inside, beneath skin and bone, the beast smiled.