As Hwayoung entered the village gates with her mother and the other women, it became apparent that something was happening in the town square. The villagers were clustered in a tight group around a rough-hewn wooden platform, raised just so over the spectators for a person to be able to shout over the din of raised voices. The platform was designed for village ceremonies and events, the old boards creaking in protest with every step. The agitated calls of villagers drew the women closer.

              Furrowing her brows with confusion, Hwayoung drew nearer to the spectacle, her frown falling away as she recognized the figure standing on the platform; it was Jinki. Her betrothed stood comfortably in the limelight, his legs spread to shoulder length and his fist beating the air with every frenzied word he spoke. His cheeks were pink from the exertion of calling above the excited calls of the villagers.

              “For centuries, our village has been driven into hiding by the monsters that lurk in those woods,” Jinki was saying, foam practically spewing from his lips; his face was alit with a manic fervor. “It is time for us to come out of hiding.”

              Murmurs of assent rumbled through the spectators. Hwayoung felt all the blood drain from her face, but her feet moved as of their own accord, and she was drawing nearer to Jinki’s fevered voice.

              “The wolves have done nothing but kill our people and drive us behind these walls at night,” Hwayoung shifted uncomfortably, fixing her gaze at the ground. “We must band together now and take back our mountain.”

              “Jinki, my child,” Sunggyu Noh called, his voice deep with age, “what difference would this have from last time? Our boys left, and our boys tried to fight the wolves, but what do we have to show for it?”

              Other villagers shifted and stirred with agreement and fear, but then it was as though a spring within the people was released, and suddenly chaos broke. Hwayoung shyly tried to draw her way towards the rear of the throng, but the bodies merely pushed her deeper into the middle of the crowd.

              “I say we build the walls higher,” Mrs. Gu called out. “Keep our children safe and alive!”

              “We must strike while the iron is hot! Our people are done hiding!” Another voice carried towards Hwayoung.

              “We must kill them all!” Jinki once again defiantly raised his fist. “Every last one! Our village must band together now, more than ever! We must hunt the wolves!”

              “How can we expect to fight those beasts? I say we build up our walls! Our children must be protected!”

              A hush gradually fell over the crowd as a bent and aged figure picked its way towards the platform. A man, his hair long, white, and grizzled, back bent with age, had begun to make his way towards the top of the platform. His unseeing eyes were a shocking white, yet Hwayoung got the distinct feeling that there was nothing this man could not see. The village elder rarely, if ever, left the walls of his hut- to join the crowd in the town square was unheard of.

              The elder hobbled up to stand just in front of the raised platform and hobbled to face the crowd. He spoke in a rasp that grated down Hwayoung’s spine like the turning of an ungreased wheel. “The moon calls to her children. And the children call back.”

              Hwayoung felt goosebumps run along her arms, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end; from somewhere, she knew this story. Although she could exactly pinpoint it from where, the elder’s words rang true for her.

              “For the ch