Minseok’s rifle was trained on the black wolf’s forehead, just between its eyes. His hands were steady with the familiarity of its weight and the little monster inside him growled, rampaged beneath the cold fury. His finger found the trigger. Just a push and the wolf would be dead and he’d have nothing between him and the witch…

“Can you do it?” the witch rasped. The wolf’s growl was hoarse, but her voice sounded like shattering glass. “Can you kill this wolf?”

“What makes you think I can’t?” Minseok asked, eyes never leaving his target. It would be so easy to put a bullet on the wolf’s head. In all honesty, he didn’t know why he hadn’t done it yet.

“Because if you know this wolf, you wouldn’t be able to take a step nearer.”

Minseok gritted his teeth. He refused to look away.

“Look into its eyes, Minseok, and tell me what you see.”

Despite logic warning him not to, Minseok’s eyes still flickered towards the wolf, towards the eyes nestled above a velvet nose.

“You wouldn’t be able to do anything if you know who this wolf is.”

Minseok choked on air and broke eye contact. His arms still remained steady through, training his rifle at the wolf. The heavy impact of her words, their woeful implication, settled like rock over his shoulders.

“Who?”

Yellow teeth spread before the moonlight in a wicked grin. “Who.”

“The wolves aren’t wolves,” Minseok realised, feeling a bit sick. “They’re humans.”

“Yes,” the witch smiled, waving her bony hands. Minseok swore they creaked like the wooden limbs of a marionette Luhan once made for the village seamstress to present to her son.

“You turned them into your sentries, your guards. You made them your arms and legs. You used them.”

“We can’t always operate alone, especially one as old as I. But please, do go on.”

“That’s why they have odd names.” Realisation came to him in waves; he saw pictures in his mind, memories of the things he’d seen here at the witch’s candy cottage, the strange way she called the wolves and their responses… how it all looked so human…

That’s why Luhan didn’t let me kill that other wolf, he thought, and for a moment was overwhelmed by his friend’s empathy and kindness.

“They were human names –names of the children you had turned into animals.”

“Yes and…” the witch waved her hand, egging him on.

Something cold gripped Minseok’s chest and he lowered his rifle, bit by bit until it reached the floor. He stared with newfound wonder at the wolf before him; the black wolf with silky fur; the black wolf who was actually…

“Jongin.”

The witch’s grin was dreadfully feline now. “Yes,” she hissed, and then cackled like a crow.

The rifle was limp in his hands. Minseok couldn’t think of anything besides his brother, how he looked so different now, not only in form but also in manner. The Jongin he’d known was a sweet child, full of delight and wonder. That Jongin had run to little animals to introduce himself and ask if he could pet them; that Jongin had turned rocks into imaginary friends to sleep with him in nights when the wind was vicious and the forest got too spooky.

This Jongin was strong, capable. This Jongin sprouted claws of sharpened knives to sink into the soft flesh of the village livestock; he slew dinners for the witch, lured countless prey onto the blackened logs of her bonfire. This Jongin drew blood between serrated teeth and had eyes as merciless the rolling sea in a thunderstorm.

 And yet, he was still Jongin, Minseok’s little brother.

In his paralysis over this newfound knowledge, Minseok didn’t realise that his gun was slipping out of his loose grip. It dropped onto the floor with a muted thump, leather straps landing gracefully to frame a long, angular body every bit as cruel as a butcher’s sharpest blade. His huntsman’s instincts had failed him in the shock, rendering him useless, nothing more than a shell as he was tackled to the ground by the same wolf that he called his brother.

Jongin’s claws dug mercilessly into his abdomen and sides and his weight over him felt much heavier than that of a five-year-old boy’s. (Minseok had to remind himself that Jongin was seventeen now; the years were unmerciful of grief and had ploughed on despite Minseok’s struggles.)

He felt his rifle completely slide away from his fingers. The witch issued orders. Jongin got off him and growled at him with such ferocity that Minseok could only gaze upon him sadly. His collar was tugged up again; Minseok stood, his body on auto like a robot, a puppet.

Jongin pushed him through the door after the witch. She sauntered down the hallways, footfalls heavy over the wooden floors. She hummed a tune as she carried his rifle on her shoulder to bring it downstairs.

A child's tune.

The tune of an old fairy tale. 

The clearing that made the witch’s backyard was bare of anything besides two bonfires, both of which bearing her cooking implements. One had cauldron bubbling over the flickering orange flames; the other hovered below the spit where the witch cooked her dinner. The sheep was nowhere to be seen.

The night seemed to howl with Minseok’s pounding ears; its voice coursed in the roots of gnarled trees, in weeping leaves and singing bushes. The wind played the cries to life with its invisible fingers, plucking the strings of the grass for soft rustles, strumming the vines for melancholic whooshes of lashing whips.

Minseok was aware that he was being brought away from the cauldron and the spit, to the exact centre of the greenish salver of the witch’s backyard.

Jongin bumped him on the legs from behind, forcing him to his knees.

Despite her age, the witch handled the rifle easily, testing its weight on her hand, inspecting the little nicks and scratches accumulated over the years of its companionship with Minseok. She tapped at the barrel thoughtfully, peering into the hole as though she hoped to see the bullet nestled within.

“Why?” Minseok croaked, eyes wild and disbelieving as they stared at Jongin, he refused to even give him as much as a glance. “Why did you take him? Turn him into this?”

Jongin’s head whipped sideways and he bared his teeth at him, displeased at being reduced to merely a filthy object. He snapped his teeth at Minseok, who stared at him, hurt, and strode away, close enough to watch him but far enough that Minseok wouldn’t be able to touch him.

“The world goes round and round, dearie,” the witch responded. Her eyes gleamed in the most gruesome shade of red –in the shade of blood. “You took something of mine, so I took something of yours.”

“So the other wolves,” Minseok said, braving on, “are they recompense for what has been taken from you too?”

She threw back her head and laughed, but Minseok couldn’t find an ounce of humour in his statement. “Some of them. Others, I took to replace what I’ve lost.”

“Where did they come from?” Minseok asked, eyes steely. “Which village did you take those children from, and which families have you robbed of their kin?”

She waved her hand dismissively. For the first time, Minseok realised that the sagging skin creasing the back of her hand and the knobs on her fingers moulded into fingernails with tapered ends.

“Here and there.”

“You’re every bit a thief as you are a murderer,” Minseok hissed, eyes burning with cold fury.

She swung the rifle so that it landed heavily on her shoulder, resting one clawed hand onto the bulge of her hips.

“I have to replace my wolves somehow. They don’t stay strong forever.”

“Then what happens to those that you’ve replaced?”

Her eyes gleamed that blood red glow again. “My wolves are loyal; they serve me until the very end. They sacrifice their strength, their ageing bodies, to develop the bodies of the young.”

Minseok’s hands tightened into fists. “You killed them and…” –the words wouldn’t come out him; he had to choke it out –“ate them?”

“No. I cook them. For my wolves. Including dear Jongin over there.” She beckoned him close with coos and wide arms.

“Don’t touch him!” Minseok barked.

She dropped her arms and Jongin withdrew a step. His head hung low, pointed ears cleaving through the darkness like the points of twin daggers. His eyes burned into Minseok.

“You’ve already done so much.” Minseok’s chest was heaving, his eyes blazing with pent up grief and fury, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides. “You’ve taken away Jongin’s childhood for a life of servitude as a furry beast. You tore my family apart, drove an arrow through my stepmother’s heart, the price of which my father had to pay.” He jabbed his finger at her direction, shaking with fury. “I will not leave until I see to it that you pay for what you’ve done.”

“I gave your brother strength,” she rasped, eyes flaring like glowing embers. “I let him live instead of taking his life. If anything, I deserve gratitude, you son of a –”

Minseok launched himself at her, arms outstretched, battle cry renting through the weeping wails of tempestuous winds. The forest rang with his sorrow, with shrieking guilt and the determination to set everything right. His boots sank into the soft grass, propelling him forwards.

He had been waiting for the chance, for that one moment when Jongin’s eyes flickered away for a split second. It was in that one moment that he’d determine the aftermath; it was the one moment when he had to give his all.

But he had grossly underestimated Jongin and overestimated himself; the small window of time he had grew narrower with every leap, every struggle, until it was no more than blackness. Minseok tumbled to the ground with Jongin on top of him; the latter was trying to pin him to the grass, digging all four paws into his chest and legs, wrangling him into stillness.

Minseok fought; he swiped a chop to Jongin’s neck, tried to push him away with kicks and knees to the abdomen. He fought his tears from flowing, for every blow he landed upon his brother was a blow upon himself. Minseok couldn’t bear the thought that he was hurting the brother he was meant to protect so he pushed it back, pretending that the thing he was fighting was nothing more than an abnormally strong wolf with a coat of crushed coal.

Jongin was merciless, slicing through Minseok’s skin with his claws and sharp teeth, but not murderous… yet. He didn’t try to kill him, which gave Minseok the opportunity to lock his hands around Jongin’s throat to keep his jaws away from his own. This made Jongin more furious. Claws came down heavily onto Minseok’s chest, sinking into his vest.

And then something bowled over towards them and Jongin was knocked off of him. Minseok gasped for breath, staring dazedly at the night sky sparkling with diamonds, before turning his head. His eyes widened when he saw Luhan wrestling with the wolf.

“Get the rifle!” Luhan managed to yell at him, voice hoarse and muffled in the maelstrom of flying fur and flailing limbs.

“Don’t kill him,” Minseok gasped, catching sight of the small knife in Luhan’s hand.

There was a muffled reply that Minseok wasn’t quite sure was a curse or an assurance.

He forced himself onto his feet and launched himself at the witch again. She wasn’t prepared for Luhan’s entrance and his attack and therefore had erected no defences; he got to her, ducked her flying hair and even deadlier nails, and wrestled the gun away from her.

She was strong for an old woman. Despite her crooked hands lacking meat and muscle, she still managed to latch onto the rifle with incredible fierceness, baring her yellow teeth at him and refusing to let go. Minseok’s eyes watered when a boot landed onto his shin; he retaliated by elbowing her straight at her chin, satisfied by how she hissed like an angry cat.

He managed to prise her hands off the weapon, but the force it took to do so resulted in the rifle flying out of his hands. It sailed through the air and landed far out near the treeline. Minseok cursed, but half of him was thankful that it was out of the witch’s reach too. He knocked her to the ground with a well-aimed kick and proceeded to sprint after the rifle.

He dug his boots into the ground for a forced stop when two forms streaked in from the shadowy treeline to stand between him and the rifle.

The last two wolves, the great mahogany and the chocolate with an odd marking on its tail, stood hunched before him. Their throats rumbled with the ferocity of their growls and their ruffled fur bespoke a great rush to aid their mistress in battle. They stood just a few metres apart, and Minseok could see his rifle lying just beyond them through he gaps between their shoulders.

“Please,” Minseok said softly, praying that he’d be able to appeal to the wolves by reaching for their human selves. “She’s not your mistress; you don’t have to follow her orders.”

He only received growls in response.

“She changed you, morphed you into wolves when you should have been children –humans. Why should you protect a person who took away your lives?”

They looked like coiled springs, crouched and ready to pounce.

“She’s evil,” Minseok whispered. “I know you were once good people, innocent and terrified children taken away from your families to this wretched cottage in the woods, forced to do her bidding. Let me save my brother; he needs me as much as I need him.”

He knew the wolves heard him, but he didn’t think they listened. The mahogany wolf was rearing up, teeth bared to snap at his neck when it got the chance, when a deafening screech reverberated throughout the clearing. All three (Minseok and both wolves) swung their heads towards the witch.

Blood gushed onto the witch’s hand as she clutched at the small blade buried deep into her shoulder, tearing veins and touching bone. She screamed in pain again and dropped to her knees, clawing at the knife.

Luhan was breathing hard on the other side of the clearing underneath Jongin, his eyes large and wild as he stared at the effect of his well-aimed throw.

The mahogany wolf let out a howl of both surprise and despair and bounded towards the witch, abandoning its pack mate. Minseok realised that this was his last chance. He sprinted for his rifle, past the chocolate wolf, and hefted it up. With barely a second to spare, he positioned his hands, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

The witch dropped onto the ground, gasping and choking as her hands clutched the wound on her chest.

Something else fell too: the wolf that had bounded for her, leapt in front of her just before Minseok pulled the trigger.

The mahogany wolf lay writhing on the ground, a hole chiselled perfectly into his stomach.