Luhan nearly dropped his mug when Minseok made his announcement the next day.

“You’re going to what?” Luhan half-shrieked. He must be agitated; his voice wasn’t normally this screechy.

“I’m going to look for the witch’s cottage,” Minseok said stolidly, repeating his proclamation with enduring patience.

“But that’s –Minseok please, you’ll have nothing to gain from it,” Luhan begged, setting his mug down with decisive thump.

“It’ll stop all the nightmares.”

Luhan pursed his lips. “The nightmares will end with time.”

“Twelve years, Luhan. I’ve had them for twelve years; what makes you think that petty efforts could possibly extinguish what my brain has been cultivating since I was a child?”

“Minseok please. Don’t do this to yourself.”

“I don’t have anything to lose,” Minseok said impassively. “Mother hates me; the villagers detest me. Everybody will be glad if I left.”

“That’s not true!” Luhan exclaimed. “I won’t be glad. You’re the bravest, most noble person I know, Minseok. I can’t let you do this to yourself.

“I need a closure,” Minseok said, his voice breaking a little from the strain of maintaining calmness. “I can’t keep up like this. I can’t keep seeing him in my dreams, begging me to save him while I stand there like a helpless mule.” His voice turned quiet. “For Jongin’s sake, I have to find the witch –find her and kill her.”

Luhan’s gaze at him was pained. “The villagers already deemed it as a wolf’s doing.”

“You don’t believe me?” Minseok questioned coldly.

“I do! It’s just that…” Luhan raked his fingers through his hair exasperatedly, “it’s just that what you’re doing is dangerous. You can’t go into the forest alone at night.”

“I’m a hunter. I know how to take care of myself.”

“It’s still dangerous. The wolves come out at night.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

“Minseok…”

“Don’t you get it? Those wolves are hers. They live to do her bidding. They’re the ones who steal the villagers’ livestock, the ones who haunt the woods with howls at night and the ones who bite at the children from behind. They’re the key to the witch’s cottage.”

Luhan looked torn. “They’re bloodthirsty creatures, Minseok. You may be a hunter but you’re just one guy. How will you stand a chance against six well-fed, strong wolves?”

“It’s a gamble,” Minseok said with a shrug. “Look, I didn’t come here to argue with you. I came here because I wanted a favour from you. On the event that I don’t return for more than three days, I ask of you to care for my stepmother in my place. You needn’t stay longer than an hour. Just make sure that she’s alright for me.”

Luhan’s hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides and his brows were knitted together. He looked like he was struggling to keep himself in check.

Minseok said nothing more and stood to grab his jacket, slinging it over his shoulders as he slowly trudged towards the door. Halfway there, he turned and spared Luhan one last glance. “You’re my best friend, Luhan. I went to you because I know that I could trust you.” He dropped his head and stared at Luhan’s gold trim carpet. “It’s enough that one person believes me, if only partially.”

And then he left.

The rifle felt heavier than usual when he rested it on his shoulder that night, moulded metal weighing over the curve of his bone. Minseok twisted his neck, trying to get the kinks out, and tentatively curled his finger over the trigger. He shut one eye and squinted with the other, letting light blur with the colours. Somewhere in the confusion, he picked out the details: the lines and fluffy bushiness of the soft tail of his target. He pulled the trigger and fired.

The squirrel dropped onto the ground from the branch, never to move again.

He lowered the rifle and stared at his prey with a sombre expression, and then slid it over his head, letting the strap rest on his shoulder as he shoved the rifle to rest on his back. He was checking the bullets on his belt when he saw a moving shadow from the corners of his eyes. Minseok whirled around, tense, and relaxed again when the shadow detached itself from the darkness.

“It’s just me,” Luhan said, his voice soft over the rustling leaves. “That was a good shot, Minseok.”

Minseok nodded at him stiffly, sliding a bullet back into place on his belt. “What are you doing here, Luhan? Twilight hours are dangerous times to roam.”

Luhan stepped closer, and Minseok saw the determined curl in his mouth. “I’ve decided to come.”

For a moment, Minseok found that he had somehow lost his ability to speak, but then, an especially vicious draft blew past and the chilling bites restored his voice. “It’s dangerous.”

“I’ll take the risk,” Luhan said. His smile was shaky. “And I tried to convince you not to go by saying the same thing, remember?”

“I’m obliged to tell you that I can’t let you risk yourself for my sake, Luhan. And besides, it’s my revenge, not yours.”

“You can’t achieve it alone,” Luhan said pointedly. “And I know you’re willing to die trying and all, but I’d rather have you back alive.”

“What about your flowers?”

Luhan toyed with the hem of his shirt. “They’ll survive. And besides, I think those kids pluck them only to spite me. If I’m not there to chase them out, where’s the thrill?”

“What about your workshop? Your carpentering?”

“It’s only a temporary close. My customers will have to bear with me.”

“And my stepmother?” Minseok asked with narrowed eyes. “Who is going to take care of her, if you’re not going to?”

“I asked the Jung sisters to keep an eye on her while we’re gone. She’ll be safe in their hands.”

Minseok straightened and levelled Luhan with a stern gaze. “I can’t let you do this, Luhan.”

Luhan looked equally grim. “Minseok, I don’t care if you’re letting me go or not. I’m going with you.”

“You’ll risk your –”

“I’m not your brother, Minseok,” Luhan said, his voice rising just slightly. “You don’t have to take responsibility for me.”

Minseok staggered slightly; he righted his footing quickly, before Luhan could catch it. “No. But you’re as good as family.”

“And family members help each other,” Luhan persisted. “Let me help you, Minseok.”

“I can’t let you go in there without anything to defend yourself. I only have one rifle.”

“It’s okay,” Luhan said. He fumbled with something strapped to his back for a while, and it was then Minseok noticed the barrel sticking up from behind the flicks of his chestnut hair. “My father has one.”

Minseok eyed the rifle. “Can you shoot?”

“Not as well as you,” Luhan admitted. “But my father has taught me to shoot, years ago.”

Which meant that I’ll have to cover more ground. Luhan’s not used to pulling the trigger; he might hesitate before the kill.

“Alright,” Minseok said finally, seeing the wild determination in Luhan’s eyes. “But a word of warning though: you’re going into the same forest where your father had lost his life.”

Luhan’s smile looked strained, like a taut cord pulled too tight. “And so did yours.”

The rolling land of Minseok’s backyard had always been flushed green. His cottage had been built close to the treeline, but just far enough to avoid attracting predators. Minseok’s journeys had always started at his backyard, where there was a break in the layers leaves and vines for him to slip into, his boots sinking into the damp earth as he began his soft tread through the thicket.

Casting one last look at his home, Minseok dove into the greenery. The squelching of mud below his boots was familiar, a distant sensation knitted into him as deeply as the sound fired gunshots and a knife pushed through a carcass, flesh and sinew giving way easily for him to peel away the skin. Luhan, in the other hand, was a complete novice to the laws of the wild, if not ignorant altogether. He had spent his years doing woodwork and keeping his family business running after his father died in an expedition turned awry, so it wouldn’t surprise Minseok if Luhan had never been to the forest at all.

The latter surprised him however, by treading so softly that the dead leaves and twigs barely shifted under his feet.  Luhan held his rifle awkwardly, as if he wasn’t yet accustomed to the feel of it in his hands, but otherwise effectively. Minseok paused in his step and gently pushed the barrel away.

“Keep it. Take it out only when I tell you to. You’ll need both your hands sometimes.”

There was barely any light under the trees; Minseok felt like he was treading on a black blur, tangible and solid but undefined. He felt his soles sink into the soil and he reached a hand out blindly, fingers grazing rough bark and damp moss. He reached out a hand and clamped it over Luhan’s shoulder.

“Listen,” he mouthed.

The darkness seemed to highlight the hollows of Luhan’s cheeks, shadows pooling underneath his irises as he nodded grimly.  

The clouds must have glided over the moon; it had gotten darker. They were standing behind several shrubs that sung with the voice of its hidden dwellers. The tree behind them was large, its breadth wide enough to hide them both as they crouched beneath its canopy. Minseok’s shoulders were tense, his ears pricked.

The sound was soft, barely distinguishable beneath the drones of crickets and tousled leaves and creaking branches. Minseok craned his neck, desperate to hear more.

It got more distinct as time passed, and Minseok could only attribute the sudden clarity to its increasing closeness. He clamped a hand over Luhan’s shoulder, gave him a hard look that warned him not to speak, and slowly gestured him up so that they heads peeked above the bush.

Dark blurs manifested themselves across their vision slowly, and Minseok knew that Luhan was only half convinced that they were there. But then the leaves swished and claws knocked against hollow logs, and Luhan’s eyes turned wide. The wolves passed by like liquid thunder, streaks of lines against the black night. Luhan was gripping his wrist tightly.

“How many –”

“Six,” Minseok whispered, “Twelve years ago, she had six. I don’t think the number has changed.”

Luhan looked pale, but determined. “So what do we do?”

“We follow.”

Slowly, Minseok extended a leg and took a step out of the bush. He gestured lightly for Luhan to follow, and together they traipsed over the mossy ground, toeing away bits of rock that got in their way. The wolves were fast, but Minseok had hunted in the woods for ages; he knew which direction they took by observing the crooked branches and the trail of dead leaves kicked askew.

They moved quickly, desperate to catch up. Luhan, unused to the uneven terrain, panted slightly behind him as Minseok led him through a series of turns, ducking branches and hopping over fallen logs. Somewhere in the distance, howls ripped through the tranquil silence.

Luhan grabbed his arm from behind. “Can they smell us?”

“No,” Minseok said, only half paying attention. “We’re upwind. They won’t catch our scent.”

“Minseok?”

Minseok hummed distractedly, eyes focused on the ground, looking for any wild animals that might cross their path.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but…” Luhan cursed softly as his foot slipped over some moss. “Do you know your way back?”

“Yes.” Minseok paused in his trail and turned to Luhan with a grim look. “It’s been too long for me to not have learnt my lesson yet.”

At that moment, something howled behind them. Somewhere between the trees, the wolves were advancing. The second half of the pack, Minseok assumed, slightly frantic. There were only three just now.

Out of instinct, he reached for his rifle. He heard a soft swish and realised that Luhan was doing the same, his knuckles white over the barrel. Minseok stared over his shoulder towards the looming darkness and shook his head, sliding his rifle back in place with a curse.

He told Luhan to do the same. “Keep it. We can’t afford to shoot them. It’ll alert the other pack.”

He let Luhan fumble with the rifle as he gazed around frantically, searching for a hole in the bark, a large bush –anything that they could dive into to hide. Seeing that his efforts were coming to no avail (the soft pounding of paws against mud and damp leaves were getting louder, closer), he wrapped his arms around the nearest tree, slid his feet into the nooks of the bark, and began shinning up the tree.

“Come on!” he hissed when he saw Luhan gawk at him.

The other jumped into action, and once again Minseok was surprised by his agility. He was clumsy though, feet slipping away from many footholds and his hands sliding down the bark with every climb, but he caught up nevertheless, hoisting himself onto the nearest branch and slouching into the shadows just as a wolf leapt into view.

It was less dimmer here, the light from the moon slipping through the cracks between the leaves. Some of it bounced against the wolf’s coat, sliding over glistening black fur that seemed to ripple with every movement. Its eyes were amber and intent, trained into the shadows that marked its trail beyond. Two other wolves flanked its sides with the same dark, glossy coats, but of different colours. They disappeared from view just as quickly as they came.

The two boys slid down the trunk slowly, boots hitting the ground as softly as possible to keep the wolves from hearing.

“Come on,” Minseok said softly, taking the lead once more. 

He was surprised to find that it wasn’t a long walk. He had been too distracted to keep track of the time, but something in him insisted that it couldn’t have passed ten minutes –fifteen, tops. Luhan was getting more adept with the hunter’s prowl, the soles of his boots barely making any noise even in the trickiest surfaces.

The clearing was one that Minseok was familiar with, branches bowing out from skyscraper-tall trees and curving around its circumference. A large rock stood like a ghastly monument at the very middle, rimmed with grass and flecked with moss. The wolves were crowded around it, soft howls and yips puncturing the thick silence. They were speaking in a language no man knew.

Minseok knew Luhan was nervous; his breathing was hard, uneven. He couldn’t blame him though; his heart was beating rather erratically itself. But something tingled in his bones, a rush of unleashed adrenaline, surging over his muscles and triggering them into action. Minseok’s hands curled into fists.

Without warning, the wolves sudden bounded into the trees again, leaving behind nothing but stirred grass and rushing wind.

Minseok made to follow, but then his eyes caught something at the fringes of the clearing. There were berry bushes, merely dark, slumping shadows in the night but teeming with wild berries.

“What’s wrong?” Luhan asked, sounding concerned.

“I was looking for those berry bushes,” Minseok responded curtly, and then spurred his feet into action, plunging out of the cover of the trees and down the wolves’ trail. It was only when they were safely on the other side that he deigned to continue. “Our father found them and told me about them. I lost Jongin because I was stupid enough to look for them.”