I leave Ms. Kwon’s place in a bleary haze, touching the tips of my fingers to my jeans pocket every now and then to make sure Kris’s fur is still there, still loaded with “just a smattering of buffalo dust.”

                But I can’t shake the fear, and when I reach my house, I all but sprint to my room, stuffing the little baggie of magic into my box under the floorboard.

                “What’s that?” Sehun asks from behind me.

                “God, don’t sneak up on me like that.”  He laughs innocently, and I sigh with relief because he obviously has no clue what I’m doing.  “Nothing.  It’s nothing.”

                It continues to be nothing for the next seven months.

                “Chanyeol!” Baekhyun shouts, and I jolt in surprise, turning to the direction of his voice.

                “Hey you,” I say, shifting uncomfortably.

                “Get Chaslorin, let’s go!”

                I watch the sun inch closer to the horizon, stuttering as Baekhyun eyes me strangely.  “B—But I—I mean I—”  For some reason, I feel a chill in my core, chanting Kris.  And I'm right.

                “Sehun said he saw the white buffalo again, we’ve got to go, now.”

                “What?”  And my words come out hardly a breath, my insides quivering as Baekhyun drags me to the stable.

                With a swing of my leg, I’m atop Chaslorin, and everything is happening too quickly, and there’s too much, too much at once.  Chaslorin takes off, my hands clenched tight on her reins, and we’re halfway through the field when I see Kris among the herd, a glaringly different coat of fur in the glow of the setting sun.

                Baekhyun reaches out to hand me a bow.  “Shoot it in the leg.  We’ve got to bring it back to the village this time.  Come on, you’re the best archer here.”

                “I can’t, Baekhyun.  We can’t shoot him.”

                “Are you out of your mind?  That’s a white buffalo.”

                “I won’t do it.”  I bring Chaslorin to a slower pace, hoping that somehow, Kris can sense the danger.

                “What, why?  Get over here, Chanyeol.”

                The rest of them slow with me, a mess of confusion as I hop off.  But then I see Joonmyun mutter an “are you kidding me” under his breath, and he grabs the bow from Baekhyun’s hand, continuing on behind the herd.

                I’m two seconds too late when I realize what his intention is, and I feel nothing and everything and panic and fear, my legs ripping through air as I chase after him, too far gone to climb back onto Chaslorin.  He grabs for an arrow.  “Joonmyun!  Don’t do it, stop, please, stop!”

                And shoots.

                Kris stumbles as the arrow jabs into his hind leg.  Falls behind the rest.

                Joonmyun takes another between his skillful fingers.  “Joonmyun, please.”  Shoots again.

                And Kris bellows when it pushes into the opposite side.  Tries for escape.

                And collapses.

                Joonmyun leaps off his stallion, ready.  He approaches with cautious footsteps, his eyes trained on a helpless white buffalo, who’s fighting, fighting to get back on his feet.  Extends his hand and—

                “Don’t touch him.”

                He looks up at me—panting, suddenly furious me—and pauses for a moment.  “You’re insane.”

                “Don’t touch him.”

                “What’s wrong with you?  You, of all people, should be perfectly clear on what we’re supposed to do here.”

                “Joonmyun, I suggest you get up and leave.”

                “Chanyeol—”

                “Go the home and nurse your goddamn shoulder.  I can tell it’s dislocated from here.”

                He gets to his feet and mounts his horse.  “You’ve never been fit to be Chief.”

                And then it’s just me and Kris.

                “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry,” is all I can say as I take out the arrows and tear out strips of my shirt, patching up the wounds.

                He blinks at me with a twitch of his ear, and I smile tightly because he’ll be just fine.  Just fine.

                “Chanyeol!”

                “Shh, go back to bed, Sehun.”

                “But Father—”

                “I’ll deal with it later.  It’ll all be okay again.  I promise.”

                I slip out the window, baggie in hand, before he can say any more.

                “Kris?”

                A soft snort leads me to him, and I kneel by his hooves, dumping the fur onto the dirt.  He sniffs at it, retracts slightly.

                “It won’t be much, but this is the best I can do.  You trust me, don’t you?”

                At his nod, I light the match.

                Burn the strands to ash.

                Wash the flame away.

                And in the light of the sun, he shall be human.