Burial

I buried my brother that day.

By the time the sandstorm settled, the sun was rising. Yun didn’t say much—just helped me dig. We whispered quiet prayers to the goddess Selka. After that we returned to the village and buried our mothers side by side.

That evening, we found a storage shed to sleep in. I couldn’t eat. My body shook so badly I had to sit down.

Yun, fingers still covered in dirt, started crunching on an unripe pear.

That sound—loud and wet and careless—made something snap.

I broke down.

“CAN YOU STOP CRUNCHING SO LOUD?!”

Yun dropped the pear. His eyes began to water.

What am I doing?

“How can you eat like nothing happened?” I shouted. “Your mom is dead. My family is dead. Everyone is gone!”

He just stared at me, frozen.

I couldn’t stop.

“We couldn’t even keep my baby brother alive for one day! There is no way—no way—we’re going to make it to the capital!”

He kept staring at me—silent, stunned.

I couldn’t take it. I lunged at him.

We hit the ground hard. I was swinging, wild and messy, while he just curled up, covering his face. Finally, he pushed me off.

I lay there, breathing hard, staring up at the ceiling.

Then Yun spoke, voice low and cracked.

“I know that, Minah… I just don’t want us to die.”

My anger drained out of me like water through a crack.

I sat up. “Come on, get up.”

I held out my hand.

After a moment, he took it.

We stood.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Let’s go.”

***

The next morning Yun and I began looking for supplies. We knew we needed food and coin, and across the village we were able to find plenty of both. By now a terrible smell hung in the air and the two of us struggled as we approached the dead.

“Mina, maybe we should burn them. Feels wrong to leave them like this.” He was right. If we did not take care of this their souls would become restless and turn into something darker.

I nodded and watched as Yun set fire to the homes in our village. It took a while, but the flames soon took on a life of their own and began consuming everything around us. Together, we whispered a quiet prayer: “May Selka return them to the heavenly cycle.”

By dusk, the wind turned sharp again, curling our cloaks around our legs. The fire behind us was still faintly visible in the distance, a final thread tying us to what was lost.

Yun said it would be safer to travel in the evening. I didn’t argue; I guessed he was worried we would be seen by whoever attacked the village. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what might come out after dark.

After a few hours, the sun slipped below the horizon. We had left the road behind and were now following the river, chasing the last traces of light. The land hadn’t changed much—just a few more trees scattered along the banks. Yun gripped a large hunting knife he had managed to find.

As the darkness thickened, the sounds of the night grew sharper, closer. In the village, the night belonged to the men. Outside of festivities women and children stayed indoors, safe from whatever prowled in the dark. I had never seen what was out there — but I had heard the stories: shadowy creatures that hunted after sundown, beasts that could tear a person apart before they could even scream. I didn’t know if any of it was true, but as the darkness deepened around me, the memory of those warnings clung to me.

"I think we should stop. It's getting too dark," I said, my voice low.

"Yeah," Yun muttered. "I'm getting hungry. We'll stop here."

We left the path and found a shallow dip near the river, hidden by a few bent trees. Their thin trunks shook in the night-wind, branches tapping together like sticks. It wasn’t much. The trees didn’t block the cold, and the air smelled damp and heavy, like old roots. But it was low enough that maybe the dark would hide us.

Yun dropped his bag and started clearing a spot, pushing away stones and sticks with his hands. I stayed standing, holding myself. My heart jumped at every crack and splash out in the dark.

We spread out a thin cloth on the bare dirt and sat close together. We didn’t dare light a fire. The wind was too loud. The cold bit into me, but I didn’t say anything.

Yun worked quietly, sitting cross-legged on the cloth. He tore pieces of bread with his hands, layered thin cuts of dried meat, and shaved off bits of cheese with his knife. It wasn’t much, but it looked like a meal. I watched him for a while, feeling too tired to move. In the village, it was always the girls who prepared the food. I didn’t know Yun could do something like that. Somehow, that small skill made him seem a bit more reliable.

"You’re good at that," I said, my voice barely above the wind.

He looked up and shrugged. "Just something my mom taught me."

I gave a small nod, not trusting myself to say more. I was worried that if I said anything else, he would get self-conscious about it.

He handed me a piece, and I took it carefully. We sat for a while, chewing in silence, the night pressing down around us.

Then came the roar — low and broken, shivering through the trees. I froze, the half-eaten bread heavy in my hands. Yun’s eyes snapped to the dark, wide and alert.

Before we could think, before we could breathe, a black shape burst from the trees. Its eyes caught the moonlight, and its teeth flashed.

A night-wolf.

It moved faster than anything I’d ever seen.

"Run!" Yun screamed, grabbing my sleeve.

We bolted toward the river, feet slipping on the loose dirt, branches slashing at our faces. The ground dipped under us, and I stumbled. Behind me, I heard the pounding of paws, the snap of jaws closing in.

It hit me hard, slamming me off my feet.

Claws raked across my face, sharp and hot like fire. Pain exploded in my right eye — a burning, blinding pain that dropped me to my knees. I screamed — a raw, broken sound — clutching at my face, feeling something wet and warm pouring down my cheek.

Yun spun around, forcing his way between the wolf and me, knife in hand. He stabbed at the wolf’s side, wild and desperate. The blade hit, but not deep enough.

The wolf snarled and slashed at him. Yun cried out and went down, blood pouring from his arm.

I could barely see — everything on my right was black and burning — but I forced myself up, gasping for air. The wolf crouched low again, ready to finish it.

Then the ground shook.

Something even bigger burst from the trees. A hulking creature — wrapped in silver — slammed into the night-wolf. I caught a glimpse of the aura surrounding the huge creature while its fangs closed around the wolf’s body, lifting it into the air like it weighed nothing.

The creature — whatever it was — didn’t even look at us.
It crossed the river in a single stride, the night-wolf dangling limp in its jaws, vanishing into the dark.

Silence rushed in behind it. Only the river and the wind were left, whispering through the broken trees.

I dropped down beside Yun, clutching at my torn face, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. His arm was bleeding badly.
I couldn’t stop shaking.

"We... we have to move," Yun rasped. His voice sounded far away, like it was coming through a wall.

I nodded, though I could barely see him.

Everything on my right side was gone.

We didn’t get far.