Skin, Wings, Fangs, Scales

CHAPTER XIV: Go To Hell

Moon Byul took slow, weak steps away from her car. A bluish glow from the nearby row of street lights glazed her pale skin. Cicadas from the distance whispered to her. How many years has it been?

She shook her head at the miscalculation. No. Not even years would suffice to describe how long she was away for.

Three hours of driving had taken her back to the place she hadn't visited in decades.

Yeongdeong. Forever ascending. The home Moon Byul knew for almost her entire existence no longer felt familiar. She was nothing more than a stranger to the village— much like a chicken in a swamp. The place was quiet, and amidst the silence her shadow grew longer.

Drops of water hit the ground with Moon Byul's movement. A passing car stopped on its way when the driver saw her. She gave the man who acknowledged her presence a small wave of good luck. At the very least, a villager still recognized her.

Minutes passed and Moon Byul stopped before a worn down wooden gate. The house behind it looked abandoned, no longer fit for a home.

With a gentle shove, she opened the gate and dragged her carcass to the dusty door. Should she knock? She could tell it was dark, and no scent hung in the air—other than that of old memories. But maybe there was someone inside. What if she was still alive?

There was no way. She should have known. That morning when she left, she decided there was no turning back. To chase after Yongsun, she had to lose herself. Now she was back. But there was no one waiting for her. She could not even recognize her silhouette. If not for the pain twisting inside her chest she may as well feel dead.

Nimble legs and creaks. Cobwebs were in every corner of the place. The dust that enveloped the wooden floor turned coarse with the water from Moon Byul's body.

When she recognized an older foot print layered with dust, Moon Byul fell on her knees. The gumiho stayed that way, trying not to cry again. She had shed enough tears for one night. No more, she pleaded to herself.

A shadow entered the house, but Moon Byul was uninterested in knowing who owned it. Her head was filled with harsh thoughts, and as reality began to sink in, she became emptier and more numb.

“Moon..?”

53 again. How the hell would a mere human even stand a chance against Yongsun? Moon Byul scoffed and bit her lip, feeling guilty despite the truth.

Yerim approached the gumiho with caution, reaching out her right arm. She gave Moon Byul a gentle tap on the shoulder.

“Moon, what are you doing here?”

“The children..” Moon Byul rasped.

“Children?” Yerim's eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about Moon?” 

Moon Byul clenched her fist tight as a memory burned before her eyes.

Two powerful knocks were enough for Moon Byul. As soon as Seori's eyes peeked through the door, a sigh of relief left her.

“Seori,” she uttered with resounding sincerity.

Seori's face beamed at the sight of the great fox. “Byul-yi,” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

Moon Byul glanced down at her arms, where two babies were cradled and asleep.

A surreal amount of shock made Seori's jaw drop. “Oh my—” She opened the door, rushing Moon Byul inside.

Moon Byul laid the newborns in Seori's couch. Her breath was slow as her fingers trembled. Careful now..

“I found them in the shrine,” she began. “I don't know who left them there, but..”