The ambient temperature feels like it is maintained on a steady point in every direction. The cacophony of forest noises sounds like static that washes away any discernible difference in the environment. Under the shade of the interwoven canopy, I open my eyes to better gauge where I am: I squint and blink hard and quickly surrender the use of my sight. Everything still reflects intense painful light so that I can hardly make out an outline. I don’t know how long I have been walking, crawling, making my way forward to hide from the sun - or have I been travelling in circles like a trapped animal who is uselessly exhausting itself to death? Every move I make feels leaden and unwanted; my body is admitting defeat. The coppery taste of blood stains my mouth; I have been biting the inside of my lip to force focus.  

Hope springs in me suddenly. There is a flare in temperature behind me. It is higher than what I know to be normal for a human. Her scent is unusual, it smells like corn chips, and what should be an enticing honeyed sweetness, a wild gamey taste emanates from her warm, life-giving blood. I salivate and pull back the strong instinct to turn around and rush in to pounce on her. She makes no sound in stalking me besides her heartbeat. My guess is she is either a native to the woods or a skilled huntsman. She doesn’t scare me. I cannot outrun her but I may be able to outwit her. 

I pretend to take no notice of her and deliberately take a winding path. She follows at a distance and I become sure that she finds some sort of value in me, perhaps as a prey, ritualistic sacrifice, or pure sport. I decide to take a risk and force her to help me. If she doesn’t, and as I burn, she may lose interest in a fried wisp of a man and I will have one less danger to worry about. The cost is high, I can easily lose my life, but I have been wasting it away for naught and there is little time left.

We come to an clearing that I have been avoiding and bears the full brunt of the sun. I do not change my course this time. The heat is overwhelming as I near; panic rises and I struggle to walk to my doom. I am about to enter it when she bursts out in front of me with an astonishing speed that isn’t humanly possible. Something sharp points into my chest that I assume is her weapon.

“Stop, please,” the woman says, sounding almost pleading, her words punctuate as if the language is unfamiliar to her. “Sun. There’s sun.”

She knows it can kill me. She knows the reason why. Unbridled, as if it’s a question that’s been waiting to be asked, the answer comes surprising me: I am a vampire. A piece of the puzzle clicks into place and another neatly follows suit after the series of clues I have noticed: she is a werewolf. The two important pieces of information feel wrong like lies, like they don’t fit into the natural order of the world we're in, yet I cannot remember my life before the moment now, and we, as these creatures, are paradoxically what I know to be true.  

I bank on the kindness she has shown me. “I need shelter,” my raw voice manages to croak out. “I can trade.” I don’t know what I can use to bargain but the proposition buys me time and the chance to recover if accepted.