Cho Hwayoung had grown up in a village whose inhabitants survived off a strict diet of superstition and paranoia, and any person raised there would say life was more than a little stifling at times- the cold weather and isolated nature of the village made it so: there was no room for disorganization.

       The clustered huts of tightly wound branches surrounded by the dense trees and neighboring mountains gave the impression of bird nests, and the weather-beaten villagers, cloaked in nondescript fabrics and furs of greys and browns that were merely functional, resembled frantic sparrows. Their forms skittered across the forest floor as they hunted, gathered, and went about their activities within the town. Towards the center of the village, several roughly hewn buildings had been erected where villagers carried out the business of their trade. There, the clang of the blacksmith's hammer and the bustle of the market could be heard.

       The most noticeable feature of the village was the thick fence that surrounded the entire area. As opposed to the woven huts and rough-hewn town buildings, massive logs that had been whittled to incredibly sharp points had been stood on end to keep the villagers in and the dwellers of the woods out. The fence was easily 12 feet high. The constant cold of the mountains left a thick layer of snow over the sharpened tips of the logs. The monstrous wooden features dominated day to day village life, and served as grim overseers of everyday lives.

       The only flaw in the security of the village was that the well was outside the walls, and the task of fetching the water, of course, was bestowed upon Cho Hwayoung on her eighteenth birthday, and it would remain her job until the next girl in the village turned eighteen or she got married- whichever came first. It was tradition in the village to pass the task as almost a coming-of-age rite. This way, as well, every girl in the village at some point was given the responsibility. 

       Unfortunately for Hwayoung, there were few children in the village, and the next girl did not turn eighteen for another year and a half. 

       It was not like leaving the walls of the village was incredibly dangerous and those who ventured out never returned- men went into the forest every day to chop wood and hunt. In fact, the villagers had lived in peace within the woods for almost three generations. However, dark tales of what had once roamed among the trees hovered above everyone's head, and mothers whispered ghost stories to misbehaving children of snapping jaws and yellow eyes.

       Hwayoung had heard all of the stories from a young age and knew all the tales by heart- of a bloodthirsty pack of wolves who were able to disguise themselves as human. With one look, they were able to rip out a person's heart, and with a twist of their fingers and a snap of their teeth, everything was over. Her mother warned Hwayoung every day before she left the house to not talk to strangers and to go straight to the well and straight back home- do not stop in between.

       Hwayoung had always listened, just as any child from the village should, and every day she hiked about fifteen minutes to the well and lugged back the heavy buckets of water on a cart. The girl, unfortunately, possessed a slight stature, and the cart weighed at least four times as much as she did. The normally fifteen minute hike resulted in the hour-long trip taking almost double that.

       Well, that's the story Hwayoung told the disgruntled villagers when they complained.<