When Hwayoung was barely tall enough to climb into her father’s lap, he taught her how to weave a snarl trap from moss rope. The knots are one by one painstakingly woven into a basketlike web that creates a quite impossible tangle of rope. When laid upon the ground and covered in leaves, it yanks up the poor beast that sets foot upon it. The rope closes quick around the foot and twists around itself in midair, a design to both confuse and cleanly snap the leg of the prey as well as further tangle them in the mess of knots.

              “But don’t you worry,” her father had told her with a gentle smile, his beard dark as varnished wood. “Only the wild animals that the villagers need for food and warmth get caught in the snarl trap.”

              At the time Hwayoung, her dark eyes round with fear and short legs swinging in agitation over her father’s knee, had nodded solemnly in childlike belief. Years later, Hwayoung knew her father had lied when she saw the hunters entering the dense trees with the knotted ropes dragging behind them like so many tails in the snow. The village watched them go from their loose circle they stood in outside the gates.

              The sun dipped below the trees into a purple twilight, but the woods glowed a terrifying red from the torches of the villagers. The people were gathered before the looming tree line that stood watch against the darkening sky. Snow had just begun to pile against their wizened trunks, and the ground crackled softly underfoot as Jinki slowly made his way towards the center of people. Hwayoung stood closer to the trees in a vain attempt to remain as far from the stark post reaching from the frozen ground as she could. The trees branches reached for her, and Hwayoung stared into their depths, wondering if Jongin was safe.

              Her betrothed was the only one smiling, and his face was shadowed from the torch light.

              Then, a long and singular scream pierced the blanket of twilight. It was cut off at the end, sudden as a candle being blown out and faded into the open air. It announced Hye Kyo’s appearance, for soon she came into the villagers’ view.   

              Hye Kyo’s silhouette emerged form the village gates. She was held up by two men holding torches, her feet dragging limp on the ground. From a distance, Hwayoung could see that the girl wore nothing but a thin slip. Her head hung low to fall upon her exposed collarbones. The trio moved forward at a slow but even pace in what Hwayoung perceived to be a sick procession.

              As Hye Kyo drew closer, Hwayoung saw her face, and felt her breath catch in her chest. From behind the think curtain of hair that fell into her face, it was a horrible collection of purple and blue welts. A swollen and festering cut reached from just under her eye to her chin, and Hwayoung shuddered thinking how the young girl acquired it. The bruises extended down her jaw and into the thin slip of the shivering girl. Her entire body was covered in a thin layer of grime.

              The villagers remained still, as though they were afraid of the small girl being dragged through their ranks. With every foot Hye Kyo traveled her bloodied feet left scraping gouges in the thin layer of frost coating the ground.

              “I can’t watch,” Hwayoung whispered to her mother, backing away. Her eyes were wide like the horses were when the storms grew dark and loud up the mountain. “I can’t do this.”

              Her mother’s hand shot out like a viper and camped hard around Hwayoung’s forearm. Hwayoung’s stopped short in surprise at her mother’s furious expression that drew her entire face to a sharp point.

              “You will stay still and watch this,” the older woman hissed between clenched teeth. “And keep silent. Our lives depend on it.”

              Hwayoung realized that her mother was absolutely terrified, so she swallowed thickly and remained standing where she was to stare blankly ahead of her. She tried to escape her body, but she could not.

              She did not think she could listen to any words spoken, but there were none. Jinki nodded once to one of the men holding up Hye Kyo, and he drew a long rope.

              Hye Kyo seemed too tired to fight, and merely blinked in submission as it was drawn and knotted about her torso. She had accepted her death. She showed no to reaction to her being bound to the post except to wince as her head was roughly thrown backwards against the post as the rope was drawn tighter aro