Hwayoung was surprised when no one from the village came rushing to see her inside as she walked through the huts. Her nightgown was covered in dirt and there were rips in the hem. Her hair was matted into long black ropes that had left strips of dirt staining her cheeks, and Hwayoung had to absentmindedly push it from her eyes as it fell to cover her face.

            Hwayoung's side hurt so much that all Hwayoung could feel was a keen numbness that made her fingers twitch. The clear sound of her feet kicking against the packed dirt road beneath, behind, and in front of her was all Hwayoung could focus on, for she knew if she thought of anything else at that moment, she would not make it home.

            Her family’s hut came into view, and Hwayoung felt a relieved breath leave when she pushed her palm gently against the door, stopping for a moment to feel the rough surface against her skin as if she was reassuring herself it was all real, that she was in fact home. Although it was barely evening, Hwayoung felt as though she had been gone for weeks. Her head turned away from the worn surface and looked upwards at the sky.

            The sun was falling in the west, and the stars had begun to shine a hot white in the thin pink sky. The air of the mountains burned all the way down Hwayoung’s throat, and she felt her ribs ache. There was no moon in the sky. At the reminder of her injuries she endured from her time among the dark trees, Hwayoung was more than happy to turn her gaze away from the sky and at last enter the comfort of her home. 

            “Mother? I’m back,” Hwayoung called as she hung her furs by the door.

            There was no response, and Hwayoung frowned. No one seemed to be home.

            Hwayoung wondered if perhaps her family was out looking for her and looked down at her ruined nightdress, pinching the fabric between two fingers and curling her lips in annoyance. If no one was home, then there was a possibility that they did not know that she had left. Hwayoung carefully limped up the stairs, clutching at her side, which felt ready to burst at this point, but she had to get rid of the evidence.

            She needed to get out of her nightgown. Hwayoung frowned, wondering what she could possibly tell her parents when they came asking questions. A sudden idea struck her, and she shrugged out of her dress and stuffed it under her mattress. She would throw it away later. Shivering in the air that brushed against her body, Hwayoung her hands over her skin, evaluating the damage done.

            Bruises ran up and down the thin girl’s sides, and a long scrape ran from just below her shoulder blade to her buttocks. Hwayoung’s body had a lean, feral stance except for the fact that she was hunched inwards to protect the purple stain began under her arm. 

            Hwayoung opened a trunk sitting on the other side of the room and rifled through the belongings that had been neatly folded within it until she found what she needed: a white nightgown identical to the one Hwayoung had just hidden away. It had been so precisely folded that crease marks were embedded in the material. Hwayoung did not want to pick it up, but she did.

            Hwayoung held it up for a long moment and a strange look hooded her eyes. Slowly, she pulled it