But by the time they had started to move, a loud noise came from the other side of the forest. It was the villagers. They had caught up. The sound of their anthem, screams, were like thunder. They stomped and stomped and sounded like they could walk far enough until there was no ground left for them to stride on. The two looked at each other, utterly alarmed as Hwanuk’s grip on Hawol’s wrist tightened. 

“We have to move,” he whispered with a direct, cold sternness in his voice as he started to walk faster and faster to a point where Hawol was being dragged across the dense, bush ground. It had hurt, her wrist. But she would not budge, she would not say a word. They have to escape. They have to survive. 

However, while the young boy was busy pulling his girlfriend across the forest, he was completely oblivious to her mundane state. Her fragility. And just like that, she crashed on the ground. A root caught her foot and though she tried to break free, she was not capable of slipping away from the latter’s strong grip and somehow, she tripped. And she heard a snap. A distant but distinct cracking sound. Then like the waves, a pang of searing pain swelled from the flesh of her left limb. It was her ankle. It was broken. And it was excruciating. 

“Hey, are you alright?” Hwanuk raced to her and he held her shoulders. Then, all of a sudden, an old man appeared from the bushes and dragged Hawol into his hasty, barbaric arms. “GOTCHA!” he sneered as Hawol wailed out in pain and left Hwanuk petrified at the sudden, soundless attack. 

“Let.her.go.” the young boy demanded, his veins crawling out from his skin and his eyes blackened, as dark as a demon’s desire. But then, another man came and held Hawol securely in their possession and soon, the whole army of villagers were standing there. Seizing Hawol from Hwanuk and making her as their most lethal weapon; their hostage.