clearing, Jihoon realized the moon wasn’t breaking through the thick canopy of the forest. Everything looked the same to him. And he was beginning to realize he was alone in the woods on the full moon.
A cry pierced the quiet rustle of the trees, and Jihoon’s heart jumped to lodge itself firmly in his throat.
He recognized the cadence. It was too jerky to be the howl of the wind and too tormented to come from an animal. A person crying.
Jihoon found her below a tree that grew in gnarls and twists. Bending in on itself before turning back to reach toward the sky.
Miyoung curled into herself, her limbs folded tight to her body in a strange mirror of the warped tree. She buried her face in her knees.
And waving around her in the dappled light of the moon were nine ghostly tails.
“Miyoung-ah.” Jihoon approached slowly, stumbling over roots and rocks.
He inched forward, the way someone would approach an injured animal.
Miyoung’s hands fisted in her hair, pulling at the ebony strands so hard, Jihoon worried she would tear them from her scalp.
Jihoon closed the rest of the distance between them. He tried not to stare at the swaying tails. One skimmed against his arm. Jihoon didn’t know what he’d expected, but the soft brush of fur made goose bumps rise along his skin.
“I’m so tired,” Miyoung mumbled. “I’m so hungry.”
“Miyoung-ah?” Jihoon said again.
A shudder stormed through her body. And her muttering halted. The very air of the clearing stilled, like the forest was holding its breath.
She lifted her head, a slow turn and tilt. Her dark eyes captured the moon and she let out a guttural growl.
Jihoon found himself flat on his back. Miyoung crouched above him.
Saliva pooled around her mouth. It dripped from her lips and fell on his cheek.
She lowered her face until it was centimeters from his. Her eyes were dilated, her lips curled into the pleased smile of a predator.
“Miyoung-ah!” He tried to push at her, but she didn’t budge. “Gu Miyoung!” He repeated her name, hoping it would remind her of who she was.
She leaned on his shoulders so rocks pressed painfully into his back.
He couldn’t move any of his limbs. So he did the only thing he could think of. Rearing up, he bit Miyoung on the shoulder.
She howled in pain. Her grip loosened.
Flipping onto his belly, Jihoon scurried away.
Miyoung recovered too quickly. Her hands wrapped around his knees. Her teeth found the meat of his calf. They cut through cloth and flesh. Jihoon screamed, a high shriek that echoed through the woods.
He kicked and clawed as she rolled him onto his back.
“I’m starving.” The words vibrated her whole torso as she pinned him to the ground again.
Jihoon couldn’t move and she crouched lower, her heavy huffs blowing his hair.
“Miyoung-ah.” Jihoon pushed every plea, every desperate note he could, into the word.
She stopped. Her brow furrowed.
“Please, it’s me, Ahn Jihoon.” In desperation, he started rambling. “You hate my jokes and you think I talk too much. You’re scared of the water. My halmeoni made you doenjang jjigae. You said you wouldn’t kill me. You said you wouldn’t.” A tear tracked down his cheek.
Miyoung jerked up, her eyes clearing. “Jihoon?”
Then her body began to convulse. She shuddered and fell against his shoulder.
Jihoon pulled free from her weight, crouching over her.
“If you’re smart, you’ll leave her alone.” The shaman girl stepped out of the trees.
Jihoon had a feeling of déjà vu, seeing her face. “Do I know you?”
“What? No.” The shaman’s voice was sharp.
“Ah,” Jihoon replied, but he couldn’t let go of the strange feeling.
“You’re the brightness,” the girl said. “The sun chased by shadows. She’s the shadows.”
“You don’t know anything about us,” Jihoon said, moving to block Miyoung.
The older shaman moved out of the shadows of the woods, her eyes hard as they locked on to Miyoung. “We know far more than you think,” the halmeoni said.
“Well, I don’t care what you think you know. Leave us alone,” Jihoon said.
“Do you ever stop to ask yourself if she deserves this loyalty? She’s a killer.” The girl’s voice was a clear bell of accusation.
“Wait, I remember now. Where I’ve seen you,” Jihoon said as recognition dawned.
“We’ve never met before.”
“No.” Jihoon drew out the word as he tried to grab on to the memory. A ghostly shape receding into the forest as he desperately grappled with a dokkaebi. “I’ve seen you before.”
“No, you haven’t,” she insisted.
“You were there when I met Miyoung for the first time. I thought