The Good Monster

Taking my portion of porridge with meat and a slice of bread from Liam, I scanned the small clearing, lit by the amber glow of the crackling fire, and made my way toward the far log where Tiit sat alone. Staring blankly at his aluminum plate, he methodically scooped up his plain dinner with a spoon and brought it to his mouth. His face betrayed not a flicker of emotion. Our group had split into two now, and through the towering pines one could glimpse the second campfire’s glow and hear faint voices carrying across the night. Gradually, people were gathering around the warmth to eat, rest, and chase off the chill. For some, perhaps, this would be the last supper. Perhaps for all of us… “Hey,” I said softly, sitting down beside Tiit. He only nodded in reply. Cory and Karl were laughing loudly with hunters I hadn’t bothered to get to know. Kaja had retreated to herself and settled on a blanket near the edge of the clearing, where the firelight barely reached. Vilja was engaged in a heated conversation with Gunnar, with Liam occasionally chiming in. I tilted my head back toward the black sky and the stars that pierced through the treetops. “Monika, do you…” Tiit began. I immediately turned toward him, but he fell silent. “What?” “No, nothing.” He absently stirred his porridge, as if searching for bits of meat. His dark-green jacket hung open despite the cold. “You can talk to me if you want,” I whispered. “I’ll listen.” Tiit sighed heavily but said nothing. “Are you scared?” He shook his head, then after a pause, parted his lips and spoke. “I’m only scared because I feel nothing. Like I’m dreaming. And because I know I am ready to kill. To kill someone who might look like a man.” The silence that followed was so long I thought he was finished. I searched for words, but then he spoke again. “After that talk we had on the ferry, I kept thinking about your question—whether my hand would tremble. And I realized, no. It won’t. In fact, I don’t want to kill a monster with a gun. I want to do it with my own hands—a blade through the heart, or in any way that makes it personal.” His voice was flat, tinged with the sharp ring of hatred that had festered too long inside. A chill rippled across my skin, and I shivered. “I’m so sorry, Tiit…” He shot me a questioning look, and with the closeness between us, my heart reacted strangely to his eyes meeting mine. “I’m sorry you had to endure that nightmare,” I explained, dropping my gaze to the dirt. “Sorry that it twisted you so badly that now you want this. You’re not a cruel person by nature—I can feel that. And I’m sorry about your little sister.” At the mention of her, Tiit flinched. “She comes to me in dreams. Every time, she dies again. Always in pain.” “What was her name?” “Annika.” On impulse, I placed my hand gently on his knee and squeezed. “Annika doesn’t suffer anymore. Just like my parents. For them it ended that day. But you, Tiit—you’ll find peace when you avenge her. When you save someone else’s sister, or someone’s parents. You’ll protect them. You’ll live a long, full life. Everything will heal.” He didn’t answer. Gunnar, Vilja, Liam, and a couple of strangers were heading toward us, chatting. I pulled my hand back. “Hey, are you two a couple?” one of the men asked, apparently a friend of Karl’s. Tiit immediately shifted away, while I caught Gunnar’s sharp, almost jealous glance. Really? Jealousy? “No,” I replied. “Shame. It’d make a great story—two lovers bravely hunting bloodthirsty beasts together. You know, like in the movies—he slays a wolf while never taking his eyes off his girl, risking his life to help her, while she fights to protect him. Romantic, right?” He chuckled, and Karl joined in. Romantic? Did they even realize what lay ahead of us? Gunnar sat down beside me, while Liam and Vilja took places nearby. I stirred my porridge absently, nibbling at the bread. I had no appetite. Tiit had already finished his portion. “Tiit?” “Mhm?” “Want mine?” He frowned, glancing between my plate and me. “I’m not hungry. Take it if you want.” “You should eat,” Gunnar cut in. “You’ll need strength, Monika. Without it, you won’t stand against the wolves.” “They’re not wolves,” Vilja snarled, making us all turn to her. “Wolves are animals. Real, natural animals. These things are monsters.” “She’s right,” Liam added quietly, ever the voice of reason. Gunnar, though, was the most zealous of us all. Unlike the rest, he wasn’t here for vengeance. And that made his bloodlust feel wrong. Even with all my hatred, there was something in his gleeful cruelty that repelled me. My gaze met Liam’s, and I knew he was thinking the same. Outwardly, Gunnar and Liam could have been mistaken for similar men—but their essence was worlds apart. Liam’s calm steadiness made him easy to trust. He’d proven a capable host and a decent man. The kind you could imagine marrying someday—if there was still a future. Gunnar, on the other hand… he was the kind of man who smiled in your face while sneering behind your back, who cheated on his wife while convincing her she was crazy. A manipulator, slick and untrustworthy. “So, beautiful, how are you feeling? Ready for battle?” Gunnar grinned at me as the group’s chatter thinned out. “I guess so,” I said, shrugging, forcing a polite smile. He slung a friendly arm around my shoulders. After a moment, I rose to my feet, and his hand slipped off. “I’m going to get ready for sleep.” “Right, we’ll set up the tents,” Gunnar replied, standing as well.

***

Thankfully, I didn’t end up in Gunnar’s tent. Instead, I shared with Vilja, Kaja, and Liam. Gunnar, Tiit, Cory, and Karl took the second one. Everyone else was camped with the other half of the group. All night, Kaja cried silently beside me. I couldn’t sleep either—drifting into shallow dozes, only to wake again and toss restlessly. Finally, I gave up. Grabbing my backpack, I tied my hair into a bun, fastening it with the small silver dagger disguised as a hairpin, and slipped outside into the damp predawn air with my jacket and shoes. The sky was already lightening; in an hour the others would rise. The battle was only hours away. Cold mist sank into my bones, the chill seeping straight through skin and flesh. Shivering, I dressed quickly and walked to the clearing where last night’s fire lay smoldering. I wasn’t the only one awake. Tiit sat hunched on the same log as during dinner. “Mind some company?” I whispered, stepping closer. He patted the spot beside him. The bark was damp, but before I could spread something down, he opened his blanket and draped the log. We sat so close our thighs almost touched. My heart skipped. Was this… attraction? Or simply the heightened instincts of facing death? I’d read once that danger triggers desire, a trick of nature to push people to reproduce. Well, nature had miscalculated—pregnancy and child-rearing weren’t happening in a few hours. But regardless of biology, Tiit did stir something warm in me. If we both survived… I’d like to share a coffee with him, maybe walk along the Gulf of Finland, or through Kadriorg Park. But first—we had to survive. “Did you sleep?” I asked, studying his weary but still handsome face. Dark circles marked his pale skin, his fair hair was tousled, and faint stubble shadowed his jaw. “Barely,” he answered tonelessly. “You?” “Same. Tiit?” “Mhm?” “What will you do when you go back?” He shrugged. “If I survive—I’ll go back to the music shop, try again to convince my parents to see a therapist. Maybe get a dog. Find a girlfriend.” I smiled softly. It felt good to hear he still had plans, that he still believed in a life beyond revenge. “You don’t have a girlfriend?” “Nope.” “For long?” “Yeah. Why so surprised?” he chuckled, glancing at me, suddenly alive again. “You’re a really good-looking, decent guy. I bet a lot of girls notice you.” “Well…” He pursed his lips. “Even if they do, they lose interest fast.” “Why?” I frowned. “Monika, would you date a guy who’s constantly depressed, can’t sleep, obsessed with monsters, bent on revenge for his sister, with no plans beyond slitting a werewolf’s throat? Let’s be honest—romance, flowers, hand-holding? That’s not me anymore.” His eyes lingered on mine, briefly dropping to my lips. My breath quickened. Since Johan, I hadn’t felt this toward anyone. At best, I might glance at a handsome stranger or envy a fictional heroine her love confession—but for myself, I’d stopped believing. Johan once told me I was “not ugly, not stupid, but crazy—still stuck in childish fairy tales.” My sister said I had “zero femininity, a useless amoeba no one could ever love.” Maybe she was right. Pieces of me had been crumbling ever since that night under the full moon. Losing my parents, surviving school, breaking with Johan—each took something away. By the time I graduated, there was little of me left. By the breakup, almost nothing. “It’s sad to hear you say that,” I whispered, holding his gaze. “But yes, I would. Because I’m the same. My boyfriend dumped me for those very reasons. I understand.” “Well, you might—but we still wouldn’t work,” Tiit said with a crooked smile, eyes dropping to the ground. “Because I’m not your type?” “Because our scars are the same. That’s not good. We need people who pull us out—not drag us deeper.” “At least we understand each other. Others never will.” “We’d only drown together, Moni—and our happy ending would be a shared room in a psychiatric ward.” He wasn’t wrong. To heal, we had to do it ourselves first. And though I usually hated when people shortened my name, from Tiit it didn’t sound bad at all. Sweet nicknames like “kitten” or “bunny” made me cringe—but maybe, from him, even that wouldn’t. “You’re right,” I nodded. “And what about you? What’ll you do when this is over?” he asked. Maybe our first real conversation. “Go back to the vet clinic.” “You’re a vet?” “No, just an administrator. But I thought about studying veterinary medicine. Still not sure it’s what I want.” “What do you want, then?” “I don’t know. I once wanted to teach literature, or English. Then psychology. Later, hairdressing.” “Quite a range,” he smirked. “Yeah.” We locked eyes again, longer this time. My heart stumbled. “Shame about our scars,” I whispered, barely moving my lips. If not for the sense that this morning could be my last, I’d never have said it aloud. “You like me, don’t you?” Tiit asked, weary but direct. “Yes.” “Moni, you know I…” He looked away. Turning someone down is awkward. “Tiit, it’s fine. I don’t expect anything.” He narrowed his eyes, studying me. “Really?” His gaze flicked down to my bitten lip, brows lifting meaningfully. “It’s just… been a long time. And today might be the end.” On the edge of death, embarrassment, fear, hesitation—all of it dulls. My uncle Jakob used to say those things, except fear, were artificial emotions, imposed by society. He wasn’t wrong. “Same,” Tiit said, his eyes still on my mouth. Then his hand was on my neck, pulling me in. His lips crashed onto mine—rough, almost harsh—but butterflies still burst in my stomach, warmth spreading through my chest. Without delay, he deepened the kiss. I leaned forward, meeting his tongue with mine, heartbeat racing. And then—just as abruptly—he broke away and stood. There had been no romance in it, no tenderness. Only raw, misplaced passion, a desperate grasp at what life still offered. For him, it meant nothing. For me… “Tiit?” I called softly, rising too. He paused, turning slowly back. “It’s not too late.” “For what?” “To go back. To the music shop. To find a girlfriend.” He scowled, brows knitted. “What are you saying?” “We could still turn back. It’s not too late.” “What the hell, Monika?” With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he shook his head—frustrated, disappointed—and strode toward his tent. I collapsed back onto the log. He was right again. What nonsense. What weakness. For years, my life had been nothing but werewolves—the search for truth, the desperate need for proof, the vow to avenge my parents. That was all. There was nothing left to return to. And yet, one reckless kiss had nearly shattered that resolve. Loneliness had gnawed at me so deeply that even this pitiful scrap of intimacy had nearly undone me. Was I a coward… or just weak?