The witch’s cottage was the same as it was before, with walls the colour of gingerbread and a candy cane arch. To be honest, they smelt it before they saw it.

The scent was as rich as Minseok remembered: thick with sweetness, with honey and sugar and syrup. He could no longer tell which scent belonged to the cookies, which the truffles and which the spirally lollipops. They mingled too closely, blending into a heady mix.

“That smells delicious,” Luhan breathed. Minseok turned his head and found the other already halfway up, eyes trained intently on the gingerbread house.

Minseok grabbed his hand, digging his fingers into Luhan’s skin to keep him from going any further. “Don’t,” he hissed.

Luhan was staring at him with wide eyes. For a moment, they sparkled with naivety, with the simple childlike question ‘why’. But then, he bowed his head and said nothing more. Minseok took that as a sign of assent.

“I was right,” Minseok muttered under his breath, puffs of air tickling his chapped lips. “The wolves did lead us here.”

“These wolves,” Luhan began softly, “they belong to the witch, right? But where did she find them? How did she bind them and why?”

“They’re her bodyguards,” Minseok replied quietly. “They circle the forest, make sure that her cottage can’t be found. When she’s hungry, they bring her food to eat; they hunt. That’s why old man Kim and the Lee family complain that their goats and sheep keep disappearing. The wolves take them, kill them, to feed her. As for finding them and binding them to her, I have no idea.”

“Why doesn’t anyone believe you?” Luhan asked after a moment’s pause, hesitantly.

Minseok shrugged noncommittally. “After I told my story, everyone went into the forest to look for Jongin, but he was nowhere to be found. They think I’m the boy who cried wolf.” His lips curled into a humourless smirk. “It’s ironic, since it was only the wolf part that they believe in my story. The witch and the cottage were ‘a child’s imagination’. It’s only a legend after all. People are not inclined to believe things that don’t have proof.”

Minseok bowed his head. It was true. The legend had been widespread when he was a child, recited and repeated during bedtimes and campfire nights, when everyone couldn’t sleep and were thirsting for a good, absorbing tale. The adults told it with such fervour that he remembered believing them, so much that his mind had converted it to something of a fact. It was only that year, when Jongin was lost to the witch forever, that Minseok learned the adults had never believed it and absolutely refused to.

The wolves, they’d told him. The wolves took your brother, not a make-believe witch.

They refused to listen to him when Minseok had pleaded his case, his theory that the wolves were hers.

Luhan silently twiddled his thumbs. “What do we do –”

“Hush,” Minseok whispered. “Something’s happening.”

Across the trees, on the gravel path of the cottage, the wolves were congregating for a meeting. At their feet lay a strange, humped form. In the glow of the windows, Minseok could make out four legs and a soft, fluffy body. The door opened and the wolves bowed their heads in apparent subservience.

The witch wore a black and green dress that looked like fog, the murky kind, the one that his father used to say was toxic. She had straggly hair that fell like hanging drapes down her shoulders, thin, dry and drastically unkempt. Her boots looked too large to belong to a woman, and knobs protruded from her knuckles and fingers; they looked too deformed to have made treats of such tender delicacy. When she stepped into the light, all Minseok saw was evil.

She was rubbing her hands together, squatting down on the lawn as she inspected the wolves’ offering. All six hadn’t risen yet; apparently, they had to wait for their mistress’s approval. There was a snort and they tentatively lifted their heads, and then relaxed altogether when the witch rubbed her hands together in glee. She got a good grip on the hulking carcass, and with strength that belied a woman of such old age, began pulling the sheep straight into her front door.

“What did I just see?” Luhan muttered.

“It’ll get weirder,” Minseok promised and then pulled him back into the cover of the trees. “We’ll wait till midnight,” Minseok promised, and together they soundlessly shimmied up the nearest tree.

Minseok knew there was something wrong when cold wind smacked him on the face.

His eyes darted open, his senses jolting awake as he took in his surroundings. How the hell could he have fallen asleep? On the bough across from him, Luhan was breathing heavily, arms wrapped tightly around the trunk, as though he was afraid to fall.

Below them, two wolves had their muzzles on the ground, sniffing at it in suspicion.

Minseok pressed his lips together and lightly touched Luhan’s hand. Their eyes met and Minseok pressed a finger to his lips, shaking his head violently. Don’t talk. Don’t make any noise. Luhan’s face was pale as he nodded.

The wolves circled the tree, sniffing, digging their claws and scratching the bare earth underneath. Sweat dripped from Minseok’s forehead as he stared at them, his breath hitching. It was the black one again, the one with the silky coat and amber eyes. The other wolf was the colour of mahogany, with a large body and strong paws that treaded the earth with uncanny lightness.

Time seemed to flow slowly. Minseok was getting worried for Luhan; he was almost hyperventilating. The rifle that pressed to his back seemed to tingle with its own life, buzzing into his limbs, tempting him to swing it forwards, aim, and shoot. Minseok gripped the bark beneath him ferociously. He knew that if he killed the wolves now, he would never get to the witch.

Finally, after a minute’s worth of eye contact, they lifted their heads and bounded away. Their long powerful bodies melted into the shadows as they dashed between the trees. Minseok waited for a few more minutes before gripping the trunk and climbing down. Luhan clambered down after him.

“It’s time to go,” Minseok whispered. “They’re going back into the forest to scout again; the witch has no wolf protecting her. This is our chance.”

“You want to…” Luhan’s voice seemed to die in his throat. He was still trying to breathe; clearly carpentering held very little excitement compared to a life in the woods.

“Yes,” Minseok said steadily. “I’m not going to force you to come with me. You can stay here, in the trees and out of sight.”

“Just stop it, Minseok,” Luhan said with a frown. “I said I was going to come with you. You know I don’t take promises lightly.”

Minseok sighed at his stubbornness and trudged away. He had hoped that Luhan had seen enough things to make him rethink this venture, but apparently he wasn’t so easily deterred as Minseok thought. With an impatient wave of his hand, Minseok directed Luhan to follow him.

“You’re on watch,” Minseok told him in a whisper. “I’ll aim for the witch. You’re to aim at the forest, at anything that might catch me from behind.”

Luhan nodded. Minseok thought he detected a hint of unsureness in his jerky movements, but his grip on his rifle remained strong, and Minseok could find no fault in the way he held the barrel.

They circled the perimeter. The witch’s cottage had no fence, the entire structure bared out to the hulking shadows and scraggy branches of the woods. It appeared that, instead of fearing danger, the witch welcomed it, called on it. Minseok was convinced even, that she was the root of it. The forest was old, but it wasn’t malicious. It fed his family, gave the medicine for the ill and wood for the villagers’ houses. The witch made it dangerous by planting her wolves and making them hunt; she made them skulk and prowl and steal from the villagers.

There were more sticks and stones here, so they had to tread carefully. There were dips in the ground too, and many gnarled roots that stuck out like sore fingers to make them trip. More than once, Minseok’s foot slipped on something that almost made him tumble headlong onto the ground. Minseok ran a tongue over his throbbing lips. He’d bitten them so much in his effort to stifle his curses that he had almost broken through the soft skin.

A while later, they smelt smoke.

It was a heady scent, one that burned into their throats. Minseok gazed up and saw a column of smoke spiralling upwards, coiling towards the clouds. The dusky grey settled over the velvet sky like a blanket, as though to obscure the moon. The roof gleamed red, the tiles by the flares of light from glowing embers. A brilliant circle of golden light throbbed like a beacon in the witch’s backyard.

“She’s cooking the sheep in the dead of night?” Luhan looked astonished.

Minseok shushed him and forced him to duck lower and slink deeper into the shadows. They moved swiftly and silently, padding over the cushion of leaves on the damp forest floor. At first, they only saw the walls, but then it opened up into a clearing bordered by tall trees.

The witch was standing before a large spit, on which she had mounted the sheep, skinned of its fur and whole. Fire flickered from the ground, charring blackened firewood and the sheep’s sides. The witch was turning the carcass, and Minseok could hear the contraption squeak and screech, struggling to bear the weight of a whole animal. Then, she opened and began to sing.

Her voice warbled over the notes, breaking when they got too high, going harsh and gravelly when they got too low. Minseok remembered hearing the same voice singing when he slept, in the nightmares that always left him clawing at his pillows and struggling in the cocoon of his sheets. It was the voice that sung from the kitchen over a bubbling pot –a sadistic voice that sung about death. 

Minseok tried not to look at the glassy eyes turning over the spit, staring blankly into the darkness of the earth and sky. Some of its lost colour returned with the flickering embers and the glassy orb soon began burn with the colour of rust.

He angled the rifle, feeling its weight press against his shoulder, a burden he felt synonymous with the word ‘life’. His cheek was flattened against the cold metal and he was squinting with one eye, training the barrel with practiced ease –towards a spot that ensured instant death. Minseok always thought that being a hunter meant that he had to exercise a certain brand of cold-heartedness that kept him from hesitating when he brought down his prey, but Minseok had never felt a resolve so great when he thought about bringing down the witch. It was as though his heart was glazed with ice, closed off from the subtleties of human emotion. He was going to kill her and couldn’t care less if he was branded as a murderer.

He aimed for her head. The trigger gave way easily to the pressure, going down, down, down…

The sound of gunfire resonated throughout the forest. It took a while for Minseok to realise that it wasn’t his.

No!

He whipped his head around, where Luhan stood, his rifle trembling in his hands. In the brief window of time, Minseok could see how much his face had paled (there was almost no colour in his cheek and lips) and how much his eyes had widened. The splintered bark in which the bullet had embedded itself into was jagged and harsh, but no blood had splattered, be it on the tree or on the ground. He just had time to leap away when something slammed against Luhan, knocking him onto his back.

Minseok angled his rifle towards the wolf clawing at Luhan’s chest, snarling and snapping his jaw at him as Luhan fought with both hands to keep it away. It was one of the smaller ones, the one with russet fur that looked like polished bronze under the moonlight. But it was ferocious though, it’s neck craned as it snapped rows of sharp teeth at Luhan’s head.

Minseok had a clear shot of its flank. He was about to shoot when something else –large and black with muscles as fluid as rippling velvet –leapt in front of him. A pair of jaws closed around the barrel of his rifle, puling it to the ground before Minseok could shoot. A pair of amber eyes glared at him above a row of bared teeth.

Minseok’s first response was to fight. He lifted heavy boot and slammed it against the wolf’s chest. The teeth lost purchase and the wolf staggered back, its ears pressed to its head, growling. Minseok swung the rifle up, taking aim on the wolf’s head when something slammed at him from the side. He felt another set of jaws clamp around the barrel and he and the other wolf wrestled, violently and furiously, for possession of the weapon.

Minseok had only a few seconds to wonder how mere animals could have thought of a plan of such cleverness. It was as though they knew the rifle could kill them, therefore they aimed to disarm, to divest him and Luhan of anything that could protect them before they aimed for the kill.

He didn’t have time to ponder over the notion at length, as his attention was diverted towards what appeared to liquid shadows taking solid form. Hunched, furry shoulders and wet muzzles seemed to bleed out of the shadows; streamlined bodies of glossy furs, strong paws and razor sharp claws circled around them, poised and ready to attack. They didn’t jump yet though, for they appeared perfectly content on letting the three pack members perform the necessary manoeuvres to force capitulation on Minseok and Luhan.

Minseok aimed another kick at the beast’s chest, simultaneously directing a punch at the other wolf’s snout. The black wolf growled and snapped at his ankle, and in the split second Minseok’s attention was diverted off his rifle, the other wolf had pulled it free of his grip. It hung stiffly down its jaw, digging trenches into the earth as the wolf dragged it out of Minseok’s reach. The black wolf took the opportunity to leap onto Minseok, putting its weight onto his chest to pin him down with a set of sharp claws.

Minseok was forced on the ground, helpless, both arms pinioned at his sides. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Luhan struggling beneath the weight of the russet wolf. Its leg dripped murky blood onto Luhan’s chest, the gash dragging across it long and painful. Minseok saw a gleam of something sharp in Luhan’s hand. His rifle was in the possession of a fourth wolf, one with fur as rich as chocolate and a tail that looked like it had been dipped in black ink.

A rock ricocheted off Minseok’s arm and he swung his head around. His eyes gleamed with hatred as he gazed up at the wrinkled face, whose thin lips were stretched out into a smile, revealing rows upon rows of teeth the colour of rust. Her words whistled between the gaps as she spoke.

“Oh, how wonderful, my dearies. It looks like we have guests.”