My wounds are almost gone by now, and two days have passed since...I did what I did.

I can still taste her when I fall asleep, and smell her when my stomach grumbles. There is something within me that demands blood, like claws on a wall they scratch in protest when my heart sinks at the memory of what I have done, almost mocking me for feeling guilty about it.

There was a pleasure in it. I know it. There was an undeniable excitement rushing through my veins when I ended her life, like liquid fire burning my entire body.

However, I can't stop feeling guilt and disgust when I think of it. Why did it feel right, as if it was supposed to happen? I look at my hands, expecting large claws that could rip open a body like that, but fine none. I touch my jagged teeth expecting sharp fangs that could crush bone but there are none.

It is only when I see my reflection in the river that I see what makes me different. It is those eyes, black as the night, but the iris shining with a light of its own. Every animal I see has normal eyes; some are completely of one color, but none are black.

When I see those eyes, I'm reminded that what looks back at me is not a human. I may have human hands and human teeth, but I don't have human eyes.

I sit at the river bed, feeling the water wash away the filth off my feet, and I try to stop trembling. My eyes betrayed my heart. I did not enjoy what I did! When I was gone, my flesh taken over by this dark need, I wasn't myself!

How could I have known that would happen? I simply followed the aroma, not knowing what I would find, hoping for something that would save my life, and...I guess I found it.

I had to stop thinking about it. I had to stop trying to make sense of what I felt or what I thought otherwise I would surely lose my sanity.

Instead, I went deep into the woods, and as away as I could from the direction of the clearing.

It was after walking for a bit that I smelled something, and while my first reaction was fear, the idea of repeating what I had done terrified me to the core. I relaxed a bit when I noticed the obvious difference.

Whatever it was, the smell was stronger and more defined. I knew it had to be some type of food. And with a hungry stomach, after not eating anything for two days, I found myself drawn to a smell once more.

A house came to view as I stepped out of the bushes; it is made out of stone, and wood. I can make out a path leading out of the woods and into a distant collection of houses, a village yes. I remember that's what it is.

For a moment I'm in awe. I had only known the secluded security of the woods. But I could now see fields of golden plants, and only grass, as well as very distant mountains raising as high as the sky. With another roar of my stomach, I was snapped back from my amazement and drawn to the house.

Approaching the dark wooden door I carefully open it, creaking as I do, and take in the unfamiliar scene in front of me.

I know what a house is, but its contents are blurry in my mind, so even if familiar, all the herbs and flasks, the table and chairs, everything that isn't a bedroom is new and even exciting. I'm cautious but determined as I stepped inside, looking around for every shadow as if they could come to life, and drag me down to the fiery depths of hell.

But with my keen nose, I can pick up the strong aroma of food among the messy scents of herbs, it makes it easy to know where to go and I soon find myself in a section of the house full of plates and jars, the kitchen, as I recall.

Resting on top of a small table by the window there is a wooden bowl and I can immediately tell what was inside; it was meat.

I take a glance around one more time and have made sure that I'm alone I waste no time and run to the table, grabbing its corner with my hands and pushing my body over it, my stomach grumbles one more time as I look at the meal and wasting no more time, I dig in.

Oh, the flavor is exquisite; the meat melts in my mouth, and the tender flesh tears easily; there are vegetables, I don't know, purple and with a vivid, blue as well. This is a food like nothing I have ever tasted before.

I sit down and enjoy the meal to its fullest, gorging on it with wild abandon and a wide smile as I feel tears form once more. The images of the girl returning like the unforgiving ghost she will surely forever be. And I choke up on the food.

Angry, enraged at me, but also, relieved.

I do not know many things, but somewhere deep within, just where that dark need arose when I ate her lifeless body, there is another one. Another force that keeps making my chest hurt, that makes me feel regret when I'm enjoying a delicious meal that another creature will never know thanks to me.

I'm alive, and that makes me happy, but it was at the cost of someone else, and that makes me angry.

It is those emotions that awaken this spark inside me, something that I know I have. Humanity.

Then, a voice.

I jump from the scare and manage to fall from the table, throwing the bowl on top of me as I crash onto the ground. Scrambling to my feet, I look at the figure standing in front of me, wondering a thousand things as my eyes fall on the axe she is holding.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

How did she get so near without me smelling her? How long has she been watching me? And why am I still alive?

Compared to the other two women I have seen, she is elderly. With grayish brown hair tied in a braid and skinny hands that tremble as they squeeze the handle of the axe. Her face has a few wrinkles and is pale, her brown eyes stare directly at mine, wide as if I were a ghost.

We stay like that for what feels like an eternity, until she whispers some words to me, that I can't understand, except for one.

"...Rokan" her trembling voice whispers.

Of course, I don't know what it means either, but it is the one that I can't shake from my mind.

Then her face slowly changes, into one of pure rage, and feeling the imminent swing I prepare to jump away, except that swing of the axe isn't pointed at me, instead, it strikes at the wooden table as the woman yells.

I stare at her in shock for only a few more seconds until my wits return and I run as fast as I can, away from the kitchen, out of the house, and into the woods once again.

For the next few days, I forget about the encounter, focusing on trying to catch fish with a stick, being successful a few times, my body was no longer bones, but still far too weak to try hunting. So I don't starve as I did the last time.

That is until that delicious aroma invades my nostrils again, I never really left the woods near the village even if I was afraid to meet other humans, mainly because I had no idea of anywhere else but here, and like it or not, I had to remain.

I didn't go near the house again, at least the first three days, but in the fourth, the smell and hunger were far too great and I had to risk it, so at the hour the sun went down and the sky turned orange I approached the house.

This time going directly at the window, it was a little high but ever since I first came to this world I had grown in size, now I was nearly as tall as the grown goblins from the cave, so with a jump I managed to hold on to the window frame.

And using the same hidden strength that hunger provides I managed to get my head over the window, only to be greeted by the deadly stare of the woman sitting at the table, her eyes meeting mine for the briefest of moments thanks to me imminently dropping to the ground and running back into the woods.

Once inside the bushes I turned around, and saw her standing up, still staring at me, her expression neither showing aggression nor fear, just her wide eyes that stared at me as If I was the first goblin she ever saw.

And I supposed I could be.

But what she did next truly confused me, for she grabbed the bowl, walked out of the door, and left it there.

I waited, the orange sky turned black as the night came and the village lit up with the comforting call of dozen of fires that could for once keep me warm, but the woman never came out.

So I made my way to the bowl, ate its cold, but still delicious contents, and quickly left.

This became a routine.

First, it took another few days, but the smell was back and this time I didn't ignore it, so when I reached the house I saw the bowl waiting at the window frame, and the woman was nowhere to be seen so ate it whole.

Then it took just a couple of days until the smell returned and I too returned to the house, this time I saw the woman cleaning outside her home, with a broom in her hands. Our eyes meet and her calm eyes soon widened.

At this distance, I could notice the grip tightening on her broom and a slight trembling of her lip. but after a while, she turned away, completely, giving me her back as she kept cleaning.

So slowly I approached the window, we had been closer than ever since I first saw her, but I knew better than to get closer to her for no reason, so I took the bowl and tried to not spill its contents I took it with me deep into the woods.

And after eating the meal whole I walked back, relieved that she wasn't in sight, and returned the bowl.

Then, it was a daily occurrence.

Every day, when the sun went down, I could smell the delicious aroma of a new meal, sometimes stew, others soup, awaiting me at the window frame.

And with my daily visits, I saw more and more of the woman's routine, sometimes cleaning, others doing things I didn't comprehend with the herbs in her home, and others simply sitting on a wooden chair outside of her house, next to the door.

With her eyes lost, staring at something in the distance that I couldn't see. But every time our eyes met she would get tense, looking at me as if it took every bit of willpower she had not to scream, or try to kill me.

But she never did anything, until one day the bowl wasn't at the window frame, it was at the table.

I stood on the window frame as she sat next to the table, her hands occupied with a ball of wool as she knitted something, our eyes meet once again but this time I didn't run away.

We stared at each other for a moment before she looked away, focusing on her hands, while I sat on the window frame, bowl in hand, eating with gusto as I pondered.

Who was she and what did she want?

Finishing the food I left the bowl on the table and prepared to leave, but she spoke to me, calmly, if a little unevenly. Whatever she was saying, seemed difficult for her. I simply raised my hands and shook my head, trying with my hands to make her understand that I had no idea what she was saying.

But this seemed more than she expected, because she looked at me surprised, her mouth agape as she blinked several times in a short amount of time.

After a brief moment of disbelief she returned to normal and looked at the fireplace near her where a cauldron boiled more food, she stared at the burning wood, her mind working in ways I can't comprehend.

So I left, she didn't say anything this time, and I made my way back to the woods.