She yanked again at the jute rope fastened to her hind legs. It was now cutting into her flesh. The rope had glass shards and blades woven into its fiber. Her heart thudded in her ear as the crunching of boots and the rustling of leaves grew louder and closer. Desperately, she bit into the rope, and it cut her lips. She felt numb, less from the wounds and more from fear of the shadows now emerging from behind the trees and bushes.

“Why, it’s a fox,” said one of the men surrounding her.

A light was held up to her face.

She winced and jerked her head away.

“And what a beautiful fox,” said another.

She hopelessly tugged at the rope even as a tear rolled down her face. She thought of her home in the heart of the forest: she should have never left it.

Oh, save me, goddesses, she pleaded silently.

“That pelt would be worth a fortune.”

Those words seared into her. Gathering the courage, she turned to look at the people who would take her skin and exchange them for rice and meat.

They were hardly men yet; boys of about fifteen or sixteen years of age. And there were about six or seven of them.

She took in each face, their eyes gleaming and their smiles leering.

But then, her eyes stopped at the boy standing next to the one holding the torch. He looked younger than the rest and his eyes were not greedily admiring her coat nor grinning at her misery. Instead, he was looking into her eyes.

The boy’s eyes lingered on the tear droplet, glimmering silver against her fur, in the light of the torch. She looked back, hoping he would understand her pain.

“Let her go,” he said suddenly, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Are you crazy?” snapped the one holding the torch.

“Pffft what does Jung Kook know. He’s still a dumb newborn baby,” said another. “Quick, pass me the knife.”

Her heat beat with trepidation, the metallic taste of blood now rushing to her head.

And then she saw the boy called Jung Kook lunged forward with a knife. Before any of the other boys could react, he had chopped off the jute rope that bounded her to the tree with one swift cut.

Giving the rope a final tug, she sprinted away into the forest, her injured leg suddenly gaining a new burst of energy. She heard yelling and scuffles behind her that carried far into the forest as she ran and ran. She did not look back nor paused to even take a breath until she could hear them no more.

At the heart of the forest, the creatures of Earth roamed freely, unfettered by fear of the human ways. Here, magic and stories of the old were allowed to just be. Stopping by the healing spring of the goddess Jisoo, she finally collapsed onto the soft moss and allowed herself to catch a breath.

Then, her hind limbs lengthened and curved into shapely human legs, her fore limbs stretched into slender human arms, her red coat were pulled back at its root, revealing soft, white human flesh and her red mane lengthened into a long, red tress that lay spread on the green moss.

Chae Young staggered to her feet and slowly stepped into the healing water.

***

The summer Jung Kook turned sixteen, a drought plagued the village. The wells were empty and the fields bore no crops. People exchanged family heirlooms for a bowl of rice at the nearby town. Jung Kook also tied a rope around their old cow and took her to town. He stood in a corner the whole day but no passerby spared him or his lean cow a glance.

Dejected, he trudged back home in the evening. That morning before he set off, he had promised his little brother Soo Bin that he would bring home sweetened rice cake with the money from selling the cow. But now, he would have to face both Soo Bin and his mother empty handed. As he crossed the forest that would lead to his village, he stopped beneath a gingko tree and closed his eyes. Hunger, disappointment and exhaustion easily lulled him to sleep.

He dreamt that a young girl with long, red tresses and dressed in a pale-blue silk hanbok came to him beneath the gingko tree. She sat down beside him on the twig-strewn forest floor. He worried that her silk chima would be dirtied but she waved it away. He opened his mouth to ask who she was but no sound came out. He felt like a Croaker, opening and closing his mouth hopelessly. The girl laughed, not mockingly but good naturedly. She looked into his eyes and he had a strange feeling that he knew her, knew her from many summers ago. Yet he couldn’t put a name to her.

Then, just as quietly as she had come, she stood up.

Wait, he wanted to call. But his mouth frustratingly produced no sound.

To his surprise, she turned to look at him over her shoulder.

I’ll see you again, she seemed to say.

And then with a jolt, he woke up. He sat there for a moment, still dazed from the dream. He was already forgetting her face. All he could remember was her red, flowing tress that cascaded unbridled down her back.

It was already dark and creatures of the night were crying their hunting calls.

Reluctantly gathering his senses, he got up to un-tether his cow. To his surprise, he saw two jute sacks spilling with rice tied on either side of his cow. He blinked and stared disbelievingly.

Was he dreaming? He shoved his hand into the rice and felt its warm, smooth texture swallow his hand.

He was not hallucinating.

Then, his fingers felt a package at the bottom of the rice. He pulled out something wrapped in banana leaves and bounded with sweet grass strands. Unpacking it, his eyes grew wide as he beheld the perfectly rounded and immaculately white rice cakes with the sugar shaving sprinkled atop like snowflakes.

He turned to look this way and that, wondering if some goblin was playing a trick on him.

And then he saw it- a pair of eyes glowing like embers in a brazier looking at him from the distance. Rather than fear, he felt familiarity. And then in a blink, the eyes disappeared into the darkness.  

“Our ancestors have been kind,” his mother exclaimed when he returned home.

Jung Kook said nothing even though he knew that the ember eyes were not of his ancestors.

***

In the heart of the forest, Lalisa, one among the seven goddesses who presided over the forest was patiently waiting for Chae Young, the fox-girl, to return. Chae Young had promised to fetch for her the red pomegranates that grew only atop Mt. Paran. Its seeds were known to shine like red rubies even in the dark. Lalisa was exchanging them for two sack-full of rice and some sweetened rice cakes. If the Rain Father refused to send rain, Lalisa was not allowed to provide crops. But the promise of the red pomegranates had been too tempting and she couldn’t wait to see how she would look when she crushed its seeds and applied the ruby red juice to her lips.

It was almost daybreak when she finally spotted the red fur of the fox girl bounding through the forest towards her.

Stopping at the goddess’ feet, the fox-girl opened and dropped five perfectly round, pristinely red, glistening pomegranates. Lalisa clasped her hands in joy. Scooping them up in her arms, she inhaled its exotic fragrant.

Before her, the fox girl morphed into her human form. “As promised, my goddess,” she said, bowing.

“They are just as I imagined,” Lalisa said in a hushed whisper. When she paused from admiring the fruit, she turned to Chae Young, the fox-girl.

“By the way, whom was that rice for?” Lalisa asked.

“For a mortal from the village,” replied Chae Young.

“Is