The first sign of her impending hunger was small.
A flicker behind her eyes, a pulse in the base of her throat that didn't match her heartbeat. It came while she was brushing her teeth, something so simple, routine, and harmless. But the second the bristles touched her gums, she tasted blood.
And it wasn't her own.
She spat into the sink, staring at the faint pink swirl in the basin, and blinked once. Her face in the mirror didn't change. It was still calm, unbothered. But her grip on the toothbrush had tightened without her noticing.
She set it down carefully and didn't look at the mirror again.
------
By the third day, her runs back to the cabin got longer.
