The aftermath of Minseok’s fatal shot was as chaotic as it was bloody.

The witch’s loud howls of unparalleled agony rang throughout the night, a haunting sonata that couldn’t be muffled no matter how deep they pressed their fingers into their ears. It soon faded though, when life slowly left her, falling into whine and then a soft whimper, before hushing altogether with her last gasp of air. Blood gushed down her gown like a fountain, staining the grass a deep, stubborn red.

All around them, the wolves that barred and held them fell, writhing in pain. Their whimpers were softer than the witch’s dying cry, but all the more painful, aiming not for the ear but for their hearts. Minseok watched as the brown wolf in front of him dropped the ground, reduced to nothing but a ball of fur twisting and curling in the moonlight.

He watched with erse fascination as all four legs slowly lengthened, paws separating, narrowing into long, slender fingers. The tail shot back into his body; the ears rearranged themselves, muscle and skin moving to settle at the sides of his head instead of the top. The snout shortened into a simple nose and mouth and the fur receded into plain, tender skin. A shock of dark hair, thick and luxurious, grew and filled out on his head, framing a pair of wide eyes and cheeks as hollow as a gulf. He wore a simple beige tunic and earth-brown pants.

The boy was curled into a ball, rocking back and forth on his side.

Minseok slowly walked over towards him, setting his rifle on the ground before coming any closer. He reached out a hand. “Hey, are you –”

“Don’t touch me! Don’t come near! I swear if you do, I’ll kill myself.” The boy sounded delirious, eyes wide –eyes that saw monsters under his bed and the bogeyman in the shadows. “Where am I? What am I doing here? Why can’t I remember anything?”

“Calm down,” Minseok said, trying to make his voice sound as soothing as possible. “You’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you anymore. Let me see if you’re alright.”

“Don’t come near! I said don’t come near!” The boy shrunk away from his touch, shoulders hunching, nails raking the dirt beneath his feet. He looked like a wild animal, wary of humans but too injured to run.

He pressed his hand onto his chest and moaned. “Pain! Why do I feel so much pain?”

“That’s probably the aftereffects of the transformation,” Minseok said quietly.

“It hurts! It hurts so much!” The boy was crying, tears streaking down his face like trickling streams.

“Let me help you,” Minseok said, his heart welling with sympathy over the boy’s broken state.

“Don’t touch me!” he shrieked. “Don’t come near!”

Minseok let his arms fall, partly in exasperation and partly because he couldn’t find the strength to hold them up. Something about the boy’s demeanour –his withdrawal –sent little pinpricks of pain into his heart. The boy looked like he was about Minseok’s age, younger if Minseok were to take into account the tender skin and soft eyes, but his heart was still the heart of a child; a frightened child who couldn’t understand the things happening around him.

“Minseok!” Luhan called.

Minseok turned away from the boy, towards where Luhan was crouched next to an unconscious form. He was cradling his head, fingers carding through the boy’s hair as though to brush it away from his face. Luhan’s eyes were dark with worry as they met Minseok’s.

“Jongin,” he said softly.

Minseok’s heart pounded as he stared at the motionless form before Luhan, his hair as dark as coal. He turned back to the cowering boy and stared at him pleadingly, making sure that he didn’t make the mistake of reaching out for him again.

“I have to go, but I’ll be back. Stay here, okay? Here.”

The other provided no response. Merely rocked back and forth with that glassy look in his eyes.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Minseok warned, defeated, before standing up and jogging over towards where Luhan held Jongin.

“He’s alive,” Luhan breathed as Minseok skidded on the grass and fell onto his knees. “He’s breathing, but unconscious.”

Minseok’s fingers were trembling as he reached out for him. “Is that really…”

“I think so,” Luhan said quietly. “You have to see for yourself.”

He shuffled away, allowing Minseok room to circle around and examine the boy for himself. Minseok did so slowly, warily; he was still working on processing the details, the pieces of the puzzles, brought to light too late. He still couldn’t make himself grasp the fact that Jongin had been alive all this time, right under nose, a little bit out of his reach. His assumption of Jongin’s death had grave repercussions: his stepmother’s suffering, his father’s consequent death after being poisoned by a deadly snake in the search for his son’s body. If Minseok had tried a little harder, been a bit more optimistic like Luhan, he might not have to try so hard to pick up the pieces to sew his family back together again.

Jongin had grown, he thought wistfully, into a fine young man with fairly good looks. In repose, his features recalled their father’s: the straight nose, the tanned skin, the thick curving lips. The only thing he had that belonged to his mother was the butterfly lashes, fluttering delicately over his cheek as he slept. He looked so different –so adult –that Minseok couldn’t quite relate him to the little boy he’d known, who had been all bright eyes and toothy grins as he tugged at the hem of Minseok’s shirt.

He reached out and lightly Jongin’s hair. It felt the same under his touch, invoking memories that he wasn’t quite prepared reflect deeply upon at the moment. He tugged it away and let his hand hover over Jongin’s cheek instead, touching it lightly with only his fingertips.

Something groaned from the human mound in the middle of the clearing. Minseok froze, eyes immediately snapping up. Somewhere in the midst of bloody pools, pouring steadily onto soaked clothes and lifeless limbs, something moved. A head tossed left and right, as though trying to shake off the blackness threatening to blanket it completely.

Luhan had already darted forwards. Luhan seemed to have developed keener senses than he, Minseok dared to muse, the huntsman. He followed, limbs still a bit wobbly from the onslaught of emotions following the stunning revelations and the sight of his little brother alive and breathing before him. He dropped heavily onto his knees next to Luhan, right on the side of a boy with mahogany hair that was as beautiful as the fur that once coated his body. His hand was pressed weakly to the wound in his stomach, crimson pouring in between the cracks. He was gasping for air.

“Give me something to stop the bleeding,” Luhan said.

Minseok stared at the hem of his tattered shirt and tore it. Fabric snapped apart into frayed banners, strips ripped from whole. He handed it to Luhan, who immediately set to work pressing it on the boy’s wound, hoping to stop the bleeding.

But Minseok knew it was hopeless; he’d seen the damage a bullet could do, how much blood could gush through a little puncture in a bit of skin. Someone who lost that much blood wouldn’t have much life left in him. He had a feeling Luhan knew, but the other kept on pushing at the wound with his palms, trying to stop the stream from flowing.

Minseok shuffled closer, taking in the boy’s pale face and wild eyes. His lips were torn and bloody; a self-induced wound, Minseok observed, to take away the pain. Stripped of his wolf form, the boy looked harmless, with too large eyes and too long limbs. There was a strange innocence to his face, no matter convoluted it was when wrung by the hands of pain.

“Stay with us,” Luhan said through gritted teeth. “Enough have died for one night.”

“What’s your name?” Minseok asked, touching the boy softly on the shoulder.

Spurts of blood accompanied the short gasp as the boy uttered his name. “Park… Chan…yeol.”

Luhan pressed his hand harder onto the wound. The blood had soaked through the cloth and was now trickling onto his hand, settling between his fingers like glue.

“Why did you jump in front of me?”

The boy opened his mouth, and then his stomach heaved. His eyes rolled skywards, towards the rolling field of stars spattered overhead like flowers. He gurgled and blood dribbled down the corner of his mouth, down a pair of chapped lips and over paper white skin. He gasped once, twice, and then stopped breathing altogether.

Luhan sat back, panting. His eyes looked glassy, glossed with terror and sadness as he stared at the boy –Chanyeol –lying in front of him. His hands were lathered in scarlet; it brushed off when he lay them on the grass, washed away by dew.

“He was beyond saving anyway,” Minseok said stiffly, his voice hard but the hand he laid over the boy’s face to close his eyes was gentle.

Luhan nodded, his own face pasty and white. Sweat pooled in the trenches of his furrowed brows. He brushed his hand over the grass again, as though hoping the soil would away whatever remnants of tonight’s (or was it morning?) nightmare left.

“Can you go see to Jongin?” Minseok asked, offering him a hand up. “I have to check on –”

“I don’t think you can,” Luhan said, eyebrows knitted together as he peered over Minseok’s shoulder. “He’s gone.”

Minseok whirled around and cursed. The other boy was gone, leaving in his place nothing but rustling grass and empty air. The wind had carried away his delirious ravings, and the only whisper of sound left was the soft rushing of wind lapping against their ears.

“Stay with him,” Minseok said, making a vague gesture with his hand at the still unconscious Jongin, before jogging towards the treeline. He dove into the forest, turning away leaves and leaping over root and stone.

At first, he was reluctant, but seeing as his efforts were going nowhere, he decided to give it a go and call his name.

“Jongdae,” he began voice soft and hesitant beneath the soft coos and skitters of nocturnal animals. “That’s your name isn’t it? Since your friend is Chanyeol.”

He hoped he got the syllables right. If he remembered right, those were the two names the witch mentioned in her direction to pursue him.

“Jongdae?”

Nothing answered him besides a harried little mouse squeaking as it pattered across his feet. Minseok stopped before going any deeper. He was unfamiliar with this part of the forest, and he was afraid that something would happen to Jongin and Luhan if he left too long.

He retreated his steps and arrived at he clearing once more, upon which sat the witch’s cottage. Luhan was still there, crouched next to Jongin. His face looked gaunt and black smudged the bottom of his eyes, but he still could manage a smile at Minseok when he stumbled in from the trees.

“I think he’ll be alright,” Luhan said, patting Jongin lightly on the head before standing. His face grew dark when he realised that Minseok had returned alone.

“You didn’t –”

“He’s gone,” Minseok said, shaking his head.

Luhan’s shoulder’s slumped and he lightly placed his hands over his hips. “It can’t be helped, I guess.” He bit his lip and something –extreme remorse and sadness –flickered in his eyes. “I lost two wolves –people –too.”

“What do you mean?”

“The wolves that chased me, they ended up falling from a cliff,” he said, chewing on his lip. His voice came out shaky.

“It’s not your fault,” Minseok said, voice placating. “It’s not like you made the cliff fall.”

“I dropped a branch on them,” Luhan said, his voice turning hoarse. “I dropped the branch and the cliff broke.”

“It’s not your fault,” Minseok said firmly.

“It still doesn’t stop me from –” He blinked and muttered a soft ‘oh’ in realisation. He perked up and turned to Minseok. “There were only three wolves here, right? Jongin, Chanyeol, and the other boy.”

Minseok nodded.

“The witch had six wolves. What happened the one we injured in the basement?”

Minseok sat up straight. “Kyungsoo.”

Luhan blinked in surprise over the fact that Minseok knew his name, but nodded nevertheless.

“I’ll go find him,” he offered. “You stay here with Jongin.”

Minseok watched him go. He’d learnt to adopt the hunter’s prowl entirely in all his movements; his feet made not a rustle on the grass, and every step was calculatedly placed for proper distribution of his body weight. Luhan had changed. For the better or worst, Minseok couldn’t tell yet.

He spent his time crouched next to Jongin, staring at the curves of his face and the soft curls of lashes, trying to grasp the fact that he was still alive. He lived too long thinking that Jongin was dead; it was going to take some time before he could fully grasp the prospect that his brother had survived the witch –and wasted away three quarters of his life as a wolf.

Luhan returned not long after, moonlight illuminating the soft lines and curves of his body. He looked fragile, still put together but fatigued. It showed in the way he walked, how he dragged his footsteps, even if they were still as silent as a cat’s.

“Gone too,” he said.

Minseok bowed his head, chewing his lip. He wondered if it was worth it, chancing another look in the forest, but if Jongdae could have gotten that far (or hid himself that effectively) there was an even higher probability that they could never find Kyungsoo at all. Minseok shouldered his rifle, balancing the weight between his shoulders as he reached for Jongin’s limp arm.

“Then I suppose it’s beyond our power to help him,” he said, hefting Jongin up and throwing his arm over his shoulder. Luhan scuttled forwards and helped balance Jongin’s other side.

“What about them?” he asked quietly, jerking a chin towards the dead witch and boy.

Minseok stared at them for a while, Jongin’s weight sagging over his shoulders –a physical manifestation of the burdens he had to shoulder over the past few years. The blood was drying, and although Minseok felt nothing but hatred for the witch, something about the way the boy peacefully turned his face to skies squeezed his chest.

“We have no choice but to leave them,” he said, turning away from the scene. “We can’t carry all three of them, and to hell am I going to touch the witch again. We’ll come back for the boy tomorrow.”

Luhan’s face was sombre. “What about the wild animals?”

Minseok’s eyes drifted to the ground in thought. Finally he sighed and slowly relieved Jongin’s weight off his shoulders, setting him lightly on the ground again.

“We’ll take him to the cottage then.”

They gave the witch’s body a wide berth as they transported Chanyeol to the cottage. Minseok was too furious to look at her and Luhan was just reluctant, probably because he was afraid to relive the bad memories. They set the boy on one of the couches, laying him as gently as they could and bidding him farewell before braving the cold morning air again. Overhead, dawn bled colours onto the velvet sky, sketching banners of pink beneath the silver plate of the moon.

They balanced Jongin between them and took off into the forest, Minseok leading. The walk back was quiet, save for soft pants and muttered instructions. The forest itself was silent, as though honouring their passage through its craggy beds. They arrived home to equally unsettling stillness, the sky now a bright blue with blobs of fluffy clouds.