The crunch of gravel beneath his feet sounded obscenely like the crunch of brittle bones. Minseok grimaced internally with every step he took. The appearance of the gravel itself looked like crushed bone, sickly white and dirty beige, crumbled into fine dust to serve as the witch’s path to her front door.

Despite the goriness of the imagery, the smell of sweets and dessert still prevailed through his senses. Minseok could almost see the scent morph into thin skeleton fingers, curling and caressing at his cheek and beckoning him in. He tried not to breathe in too deeply. It was the same scent that once almost led him to his death, the same sweetness that led to his most bitter memory. It choked him.

He tried to focus on the three wolves at his sides. The black one was still there on his right, its fur like spun silk in the combined light of the windows and the moon. Minseok noted how it moved with absolute grace, in the soft pads and prowls of a seasoned hunter. On his left was the largest wolf, with mahogany fur that would have made an excellent pelt for winter jackets. Minseok glanced back; at his rear was the wolf with the lightest coloured fur, as gold as honey in sunlight.

That left the other three to Luhan, who was trailing him from behind.

The witch took the lead in this strange procession, black dress like murky water swirling around her ankles and feet. It had no accents of colour and Minseok was reminded unpleasantly of a raven, one with a curved beak that sought to peck out his eyes.

His hands were bound by thick rope, looping painfully around his wrists and midway up his arm. They were wound so tightly that it was interrupting his blood circulation. His legs were free of bonds, but the wolves kept him from fleeing. Their flanks brushed against his hunting pants, and sometimes a snout prodded him on the back, pushing him to move faster. Minseok hissed at the tan wolf and it growled menacingly back.

The interior of the witch’s abode was the image of a jolly old woman’s home. Minseok had seen it many times in his dreams, but the images rarely came so vividly. He squinted against the sunny yellow of the walls, tried to close off his nostrils to the lingering scent of sweetmeats that assaulted him anew when the witch swung open her door. They was an armchair and a couch, one facing the fire and the other pushed against the wall, but a majority of the space was dedicated to the long table that spanned the length of the room, laden with the most delectable desserts. Besides the three, there was almost no other furniture; Minseok assumed that the wolves slept here at night.

The nose that pushed him in was strong and insistent, and he glared darkly at the wolf behind him. The wolf looked up and appeared to be glaring back at him; Minseok was alarmed at how the creature could have such startling silver eyes.

They were forced on their knees before the witch.

Luhan looked both terrified and awed, head cocked back to stare at the witch and her sentinels, circled around them. His eyes were darting around, towards the witch’s evil smile, the wolves surrounding them, as motionless as rocks, and Minseok himself, who remained as helpless as he in his restraints. Minseok offered him a stony look that he hoped conveyed the message that Luhan was not to speak.

“It’s rare for us to get visitors,” the witch said, almost preening gleefully. “Especially during this time of night, and from such handsome young men too.”

Minseok glowered at her. “We’re here to kill you, old hag.”

“Admirable determination, though its not turning out quite the way you want it to, I'm afraid. Pity. I always found the determined to have surprisingly tender flesh, though it only shows in their childhood years.”

Minseok had to bite his cheek to keep himself from spitting at her feet. He glanced next to him and saw that Luhan was having difficulty breathing.

Her lips spread into a smile, and it was then he noticed the sharpened ends of her teeth, not very different from the canines that Luhan had been desperately trying to fend off just minutes before. “You know my practice, young man. This is very bold of you, if not foolish.”

Minseok could sense that Luhan was doing his best to hide his terror.

“It was a good thing that my dear wolves caught wind of your presence. If not, then well,” she shrugged, “we’d have quite a mess in our hands.”

“Next time,” Minseok began, his voice steeled by hatred and resolve, “I’ll make sure that they’ll have something to clean up.”

The witch regarded him with contemplative smirk. The stringy strands of her greying hair hung like dirty ropes in front of her eyes, both of which glowing, as hungry as that of the wolves surrounding her.

“For what purpose do you seek to kill me?” she asked, almost amicably. Her voice sounded like the grate of sandpaper against wood –no, Minseok would not defile Luhan’s craft. Stone against stone sounded apt. “I am but an old woman living in a forest. What have I done to upset you so?”

The lock that kept his emotions at bay was straining; he was having a very hard time trying to keep it from bursting. “You killed my brother.”

For a moment, the only sound between them was Luhan’s ragged breathing. The wolves remained unmoving and tense, muscles bunched up underneath powerful necks and shoulders, but they were just on stand-by; they wouldn’t pounce unless the witch told them to. The witch was staring glassily at him, and Minseok was convinced that if he looked close enough into her eyes, he’d see a montage playing: a montage of gore and death, of terrified children and hacked limbs and brewing soup. And then, the witch smiled that evil smile and surprised them all by laughing.

She hacked and wheezed as though they wasn’t enough air, leaning against the mahogany wolf as if she could no longer keep herself upright. Her laughter was even more grating than her singing, grinding against his eardrums, as sharp as claws and as loud as screeching metal. Minseok fought to keep a straight face while Luhan looked like he was struggling against the hysterical outburst.

“It’s you,” she remarked, once the laughter had subsided. “You’re that accursed child. I never thought I’d see you again, all finely grown up.” She squinted at him. “You’ve lost your scrawniness, but even as a child, you had those incredibly chubby cheeks.”

“Be warned that your death shall be in my hand.”

The witch sneered. “I wouldn’t talk in so proud a tone. You’re kneeling before my feet, at my mercy. You have no weapon to defend yourself while I have six wolves to do my bidding. The only thing that’s keeping them from tearing you to pieces is my good will. You can’t lay a finger on me.”

“You have no good will,” Minseok spat, his face red from anger.

The witch shrugged. “It’s all perception. But you’re not exactly the personification of innocence either. How many animals had lost their lives in your hands?”

Minseok’s hands tightened into fists. “It was a requirement. How else am I supposed to put food on my table?”

“Was the wolf you killed that night a requirement?”

Minseok’s head whipped up and he stared at her with large eyes. He hadn’t realised he’d killed something that night. He thought he'd only beaten it to unconsciousness, but kill? Minseok tried to breathe evenly.

Even at that age I had blood in my hands.

“I was very fond of Joonmyun,” the witch said tightly, and the wolves bowed their heads in respect of his memory.

She jerked her chin sideways. “Take them in. They’re flesh is too hard for me, but they will be just right for you.” She the russet wolf on the ear, cooing, “Just let me cook for you, my dearies. You deserve something better after reliving such a horrible memory.”

Jaws closed around Minseok and Luhan’s collars, pulling them up. Minseok twisted and tried to resist, raising his bound hands and bringing it down to clock the wolf straight on the muzzle. The wolf growled and snapped its teeth at him.

“Oh, give them something to eat,” the witch said offhandedly.

Minseok barely had time to think before a cookie was shoved into his mouth. His lips clamped together by instinct, and his teeth smashed against the cookie; it broke off and a piece remained in his mouth. Minseok tried to spit it out, but a bony hand slapped itself over his mouth, holding it firmly shut while another hand held his nose, forcing him to swallow.

The last thing Minseok saw as he fell into unconsciousness is the witch’s cruel smile.