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T he book lay open in front of me on my rough wooden table, its pages illuminated by the golden light of my oil lamp. I turned the pages carefully, reading verses I had not seen since my mother's death.

"Come not, when I am dead, to drop thy foolish tears upon my grave," I read aloud. The words stirred memories of evenings spent by my mother's side. She had believed that literature could bridge any gap, that beauty and truth transcended all boundaries.

If only she could see me now, I thought, sitting in my cottage reading poetry given to me by a human woman who had looked at my face and seen someone worth knowing.

Alice. Even her name was beautiful. The memory of our conversation by the stone wall filled me with a warmth I had not experienced in years. She had sat beside me in the open air, asking questions about my life as if I were simply another person worthy of her interest.

Because she was kind and grateful to me for saving her life. I must not read deeper meaning into gratitude, must not allow my loneliness to manufacture affection where none existed.

But friendship... that was a gift beyond price. To have someone to talk to, someone who saw me as more than a monster lurking in the shadows. Someone who brought me books and sat beside me in comfortable companionship.

I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be seen as a person.

The sound of distant barking interrupted my thoughts.

I set down the book and moved to my window, peering out into the forest darkness.

I strained my ears, counting the voices.

At least three dogs, possibly more, their cries echoing through the valley.

They were still far away but the sound sent a chill down my spine.

For years, I had lived in relative peace.

I had been careful, maintaining my solitude in the deepest parts of the forest where men rarely ventured.

But hunters were unpredictable. They followed their prey wherever it led, pushing deeper into the wilderness than farmers or woodcutters ever dared.

And if their dogs caught wind of something unusual. ..

The baying grew more distant, the hunting party moving away from the forest for now. I could only hope they would not return.