Gyeowul

Gyeowul Written and Illustrated by Jessica Kim

To my parents, who’ve always supported me. My sister, who inspired me. My brother in-law for being there. And to my nieces and nephews because I love them.

Copyright Š 2020 by Jessica Kim All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner.

Gyeowul Written and Illustrated by Jessica Kim

Name Meanings & Pronunciations Every character in Gyeowul, aside from the Black Wolf, are Korean-named characters. Here is a list of pronuniciations for non-Korean speakers and the translated meanings of their names.

Chul (Chul) – Iron.

Geojit (Guh-jiit) – Lies.

Gyeowul (Gyu-wool) – Winter.

Yeoreum (Yu-reum) –Summer.

Yoonu (Yoon-oo) – Aid, delivering fortune.

i. folly

The sun crested low in the sky. Deep and long shadows, as if carved by a beast’s claws, were cast across the snow by the trunks of many tall trees.

By this point in time, in the late evening, the birds had long since ceased their singing. The small animals–the squirrels, the mice, the hedgehogs– had already made for the cozy familiarity of their dens and burrows.

Aside from the creaking of branches and the soft distant murmur of water, the wooshing sounds made by the wind, the forest had long since settled for the evening. Except, however, for the squabbling of two little voices—one much more pitched than the other.

“Gyeowul,” the calmer voice called, its tone bordering on irritation. The owner of the voice was a large all-black rabbit with blue eyes that reflected the color of cool water. She sighed, loudly, as if her patience had been whittled to its bone, tired of a circular argument that continued to repeat itself for days on end.

“Gyeowul, how many times must I say that the berries do not exist. Everyone has already gone home. They are tired of your lies.”

The little white hairs on Gyeowul’s black fur bristled. Her stubby ears slanted back, as her nose, as black as the rest of her, shriveled up. “Yeoreum, I have not lied,” she scoffed, baring her teeth, “I have simply not yet found them!” She raised her chin, puffing out her chest.

Yeoreum sighed as Gyeowul kicked up snow.

The sun was close to dipping behind the hills, and she did not want to return home under the frosty light of the moon. She hated the dark and wanted, badly, for the comfort of her burrow.

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Of course, Yeoreum could ignore the other black rabbit. If she left for home, Gyeowul would, undoubtedly, follow. Gyeowul hated the dark as much as Yeoreum did.

Though if she did that, the other rabbit would no doubt sniffle and whine about the ‘unfairness of it all’ all the way into the next evening. Thus, the argument would start anew.

As for what happened, like every other day, Gyeowul had riled everyone up with one of her

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nonsensical tales. She claimed she spotted a, perfectly, ripe berry bush–a ridiculous claim, considering ripe berries only grew in the summer.

Despite this fact, she had insisted the berry bush existed, and cajoled the others into looking for it. Of course, the others did not believe her.

Since long ago, Gyeowul became well known for her lies and arrogance. Yeoreum indulged her then, knowing she’d be humiliated soon enough.

She had understimated Gyeowul’s stubborness.

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Gyeowul, rather than act sensibly, insisted on this ruse, claiming that the bush hid deeper in the forest yet. They had been searching for the bush since early morning.

Yeoreum, having followed her for so long, stared down at the snow, watching as the sun’s rays glinted off the powder. Its rays warned of the trickling seconds until nightfall. She did not want to go any deeper in the forest. She made up her mind then.

“Since this bush exists,” she hissed, “and since you are so much braver than I will ever be, as you always say you are, then I expect that you can find this bush on your own. In the dark.”

Gyeowul’s pattering faltered, as she gawked at Yeoreum. She glanced at the trees, seeming to lose her bravado. She gulped. “Of–of course I can!” She hunched forward. When Yeoreum did not respond, she stated louder, “Of course I can! I’m no coward, unlike you and the others. In fact, the dark doesn’t bother me at all!”

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Yeoreum launched forward at the insult, pushing her face into Gyeowul’s. “If you’re so brave, prove it then.”

Affronted, Gyeowul cried, “I will! In fact, I’ll even find the Black Wolf’s red jewels. You and all the others will cry in jealousy, when you see I won’t share with anyone!”

Yeoreum frowned when she mentioned the Black Wolf. Although called the ‘Black Wolf’, none had ever witnessed its true form and lived. Only its shadow could ever be seen, lurking in the deepest parts of the forest.

As in the legends, it guarded a berry bush that grew the most delicious red berries to have ever existed. These berries glimmered, like precious gems, when under light.

Thus, becoming known as the Black Wolf’s red jewels. Many small animals had been said to have met their end in their foolhardy search. Now, the tale of the Black Wolf was told to frighten children from wandering too far.

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“Again with the berries?” Yeoreum cried out loud. “What if you brought back a crocus instead?”

Some ways from the start of the forest, rested a small brook. All the small animals drank from there. Close to the water’s edge grew small patches of crocuses, which Yeoreum admired every time she went to drink.

“You’re mocking me!” Gyeowul cried. “You think I’m a baby!” She reared back. “You think that I’m a liar and that I’m afraid of the dark!

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“Well,” she continued, “I am not a liar and I’ll prove it! I won’t return until I have a red jewel in hand and–and you and everyone else’ll all regret having called me a liar!”

Gyeowul kicked off into the forest, before Yeoreum could say otherwise. She weaved and darted in between the sparse trees, until she faded into the shadows. Yeoreum sighed. She hoped Gyeowul would learn from her arrogance soon.

ii. fortune

Immediately, Gyeowul felt regret. Her gait faltered as she slowed to a creep. The trees seemed to stretch on and on, hiding all but the brightest spots of the sky. Thankfully, it seemed there would still be a few hours of evening left. Clenching her jaw, she hurtled onwards.

On her way, she neared the brook she and all the other small animals drank from. It burbled as it always did, as if not recognizing the changes in the day. The familiar and steady noise calmed the rush of blood in Gyeowul’s ears, as she slowed to gaze at its surface. Her reflection peered back at her, as dark as night, save for the very white tips on her black fur.

Across her, she noticed the cropping of a few crocuses in the water’s reflection. She stared at their tall standing leaves and buds. They bloomed purple, white, and yellow. If she picked one now, she thought, she could leave the forest and return before the stars began to shine. She was sure that Yeoreum would be waiting for her still.

She pursed her lips at the thought of Yeoreum waiting for her. Though she didn’t laugh or goad her like the other rabbits, Gyeowul couldn’t stand

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the pity she showed her. She hated her patronizing gaze that settled on her like brambles in her side.

Pricking and poking until she turned away in bashful shame.

Gyeowul shook the thoughts away. She would not return home in shame tonight. All she needed was to find a red berry bush. Any bush would work fine. She’d already had a hundred tales on her tongue, ready to regale anyone willing to listen.

She would exclaim ‘I found the bush! I found the

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Black Wolf’s red jewel!’ and all would praise her for her braveness, for her tenacity, and for her cleverness for being able to outsmart the Black Wolf. She would be celebrated as a hero.

This thought hurried her pace. She would need to find a berry bush, quickly. Hopefully, she would not need to tread far. Despite searching earlier that day, going so far as to disturb a snake’s nest, she had not found a single bush with viable berries.

The snow had blanketed most of the growth.

Still, Gyeowul held hope. She overheard the mice, once, speaking of vibrant red berries growing in clusters near the center of the forest.

She hoped to find the clusters the mice spoke of.

Unfortunately, when she asked a stray mouse, the stingy creature fled with its secrets.

Mind preoccupied, the sudden squawking of two voices startled her, sending Gyeowul dashing into a nearby bush. The squawking was unpleasant and shrill. She froze, waiting for the voices to move on. However, the voices continued to squabble.

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“I swear upon the white of my feathers, that the sun had risen west this morning! It was just so early that none of you had seen it!”

A fluttering of feathers. “Enough of this foolishness, Geojit! Of all the tales you’ve ever told, I’ve never heard something so ridiculous as the sun rising west! There isn’t a liar who lies as poorly and unashamedly as you!”

Gyeowul flattened her ears, feeling as much as chastised by the second voice, as she assumed

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of the first. What if the sun did rise from the west this morning? Gyeowul imagined being the first to awake to such a sight. Though, she had woken when the sun had traveled far along its path.

She wriggled out of her hiding spot, sensing the argument would go on long after dark. She needed to leave now. Peeking her head out, she saw that the voices belonged to a pair of magpies.

The magpie on the left had a white underbelly.

Her feathers were a mix of black, blue and white.

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Her eyes were the same shade of blue as her feathers. The magpie on the right had all white feathers with striking red eyes. They sat atop a low branch above her.

The white one spotted her first, its red eye gleaming. “You, rabbit!” She flittered to the ground in front of her. “You overheard us, didn’t you!”

“Geojit, it’s rude to not introduce oneself first.

You’ve startled the poor rabbit!” The other magpie joined them, hopping closer to Gyeowul. “I am Yoonu. It’s rare to see a rabbit out this far and this late. What are you doing here, little rabbit?”

She tipped her beak towards Gyeowul. The sharpness of it unnerved her. “My name isn’t ‘little rabbit,” she snapped, “it’s Gyeowul. And I’m looking for the Black Wolf’s red jewels.” She puffed her chest a bit when Yoonu blinked in surprise. She hoped she would learn not to underestimate her, the supposed ‘little rabbit’.

Yoonu looked to Geojit, who leaned forward with the barest hints of a smile on her beak.

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“I meant no offense with the name, Gyeowul, and I hope you can forgive me. However,” Yoonu shuddered, glancing around the clearing. “It’s not wise to seek such a beast out. For your good fortune, it’d be best to turn back now.”

“Oh, Yoonu!” Geojit crowed, knocking into the other magpie. Yoonu flapped her wings in agitation, hopping two steps away. “There you go, poking your beak into things you shouldn’t.”

“I am just–” “Little rabbit–no, Gyeowul,” Geojit drawled, blocking Yoonu from view. She circled Gyeowul, cowing her into the center of the clearing.

Gyeowul, shrunk into herself, feeling too exposed and uncomfortable from the lack of undergrowth to hide in.

“I have a question to ask of you. And,” she ducked her head, whispering, “if you answer favorably, I just may know how to help you.”

Geojit’s red eyes somehow glimmered, despite the low light, captivating Gyeowul. They reminded her

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of ripe berries in the summer. She gulped, nodding her head once.

Geojit smiled, jumping next to Yoonu. “You were here, so you should know. Yoonu and I had been going back-and-forth on this for some time– and she just won’t believe when I say that the sun had risen from the west this morning. It hurt my feelings, actually.”

“That’s because,” Yoonu snapped, a deep frown formed on her beak, “it’s not true! The sun has, and always will, rise from the east. Everyone knows that! Even a child would know!”

“But you admit I’d been up earlier than you,” Geojit goaded, a malignant grin splitting her beak.

“Just because you were awake earlier than me, does not change the truth!” Yoonu stood taller, her tail feathers stiffening. “You’re just a terrible liar!

Why, you’re so terrible, you believe in the lies you tell yourself!”

“How horrible!” Geojit cried, bowing her head beneath her wing. “You accuse me when

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you haven’t even seen the sun rise yourself!” She bemoaned, shambling around in woe.

Gyeowul watched, feeling Geojit’s anguish as if it were her own. She trembled with righteous anger, springing forward to nip at Yoonu’s legs.

Yoonu squawked, battering her head with her wings. “What has gotten into you, Gyeowul!”

“You’re the liar!” Gyeowul spat, thumping her foot against the ground. “It’s not fair to call Geojit a liar when you haven’t seen the sun rise yourself!”

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“Oh, what nonsense–surely you know that the sun always rises from the east, Gyeowul! Everyone knows it, even Geojit! This is just another one of her stories.”

Gyeowul did not know, actually. She rarely considered the sky or its many stars other than for keeping time. Being a creature who dwelled underground, there was no need. So, in truth, Gyeowul could not answer whether the sun rose from the east or west. The sun could have risen

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from any direction, for how little she knew. But she would not tell Yoonu that.

“The sun did rise from the west,” she stated.

“Geojit is right, I saw it too! I’d been up since– before dawn!” Geojit’s still-bowed-head raised at her claim.

Yoonu shook her wings at Gyeowul. “Oh, you silly, foolish rabbit! How could you lie so shamelessly like that, knowing that the sun has never once risen from the west? You and Geojit are one and the same!”

“The only shameless one here is you, Yoonu!”

Gyeowul rushed at Yoonu again, her anger finally having tipped over. “To insist that Geojit is the liar, when you haven’t even seen the sun rise for yourself!” She charged at Yoonu again, chasing the magpie across the clearing. Distantly, she could hear loud laughter.

“Enough!” Yoonu flew out of range of Gyeowul’s attacks, settling on a far branch. “If you insist on this foolishness, then I can’t stop you.” The branch

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dipped lower as she sprung, once more, into the air.

“But be warned, Gyeowul, you’ll only be chasing away your own fortune if you continue down this path!” With one last caw, she departed for the sky.

When Gyeowul looked up, she lost sight of Yoonu’s inky form. She then jumped, seeing the stars for the first time since she arrived. Had she wasted so much time?

“My friend, Gyeowul!” Geojit rushed to Gyeowul’s side, distracting her. “Thank you for believing me.”

Gyeowul hesitated. “We’re... friends?” she, shyly, asked. Did she act as a friend, just then? The idea excited her. She wasn’t close to anyone within her nest.

“Why, of course! I must ask, however. Did you really see the sun rise west this morning?” Geojit angled closer, staring down at her.

“Of course!” Gyeowul swung her head away.

She could not bear the red gleam of Geojit’s shrewd jewel-like eyes.

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“Good.” The white magpie preened herself. “I believe I do have a favor to carry out, now. Since you answered so well.”

Gyeowul’s head snapped back. She thumped her foot in excitement. “Of course! You said you would lead me to where I could find a berry bush!”

“I did not say that. I simply said I may know how to help you,” Geojit corrected. Then she paused, staring at Gyeowul. She shrunk under her inquisitive gaze.

“Then again, perhaps I could lead you. It’s quite dark, and rabbits can’t see very well in the dark after all.”

“Do magpies see well in the dark?”

Geojit smiled. “Yes, of course we can! After you,” she hopped around, poking at Gyeowul’s haunches. She pointed a talon towards a small path surrounded by thick branches. “The path to finding the Black Wolf’s red jewels is that way.”

Gyeowul dug her heels in. “It doesn’t have to be the red jewel, exactly–”

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“Nonsense! That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?

Or, could it be, you were lying?”

Gyeowul caught the gleam of Geojit’s red eye again. She wondered if the rumored red jewel shone as bright. She shook herself again. “Of course not! I just didn’t want to trouble you to go so far for my sake.”

“I see. How considerate you are, Gyeowul!”

Geojit guffawed. The piercing noise made Gyeowul wish her ears were shorter.

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“Go on, then. There’s no need to be afraid. You’ll be home before you know it.” She winked.

Hesitantly, Gyeowul padded forward at Geojit’s incessant prodding. She strained her ears, listening for any signs of trouble. All she could hear, however, was the light clicking of Geojit’s talons on the forest floor.

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iii. truth

“Geojit, wouldn’t it be easier for you to fly?”

Gyeowul asked, scanning the darkness in between the trees. The forest grew thicker. She could, scarcely, see the sky. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed.

“The trees are far too thick at this point for me to fly well. Besides, if I flew, I wouldn’t be able to lead you well,” she answered, a few hops behind.

“I see. That makes sense.” Gyeowul continued to observe the tree line. She stiffened for every rustle of leaves, every whisper of the wind. If it were not for Geojit’s presence, she thought, she would not have been able to travel so far. For that, her heart swelled and she felt thankful.

“That reminds me,” Gyeowul began. “You’re the first white magpie I’ve ever met. Though, I haven’t met many magpies to begin with. Are white magpies, like you, common? Your feathers are especially beautiful.”

At this praise, Geojit seemed to stand taller. She gushed, “Oh no, I’m the only one of my kind. You wouldn’t find another magpie with my feathers anywhere! Every single one of my feathers is as white as the very snow on the ground.”

Gyeowul scrutinized the ground. The snow covering the ground seemed a muddled gray. She could, barely, recognize the outline of her paws.

She kicked the snow. The powder arced through the air. She heard the little piles land away from her in the distance. Perhaps Geojit could see the white of the snow better. Magpies could see better than rabbits, after all.

“I’m jealous,” Gyeowul sniffed. “The only white I have is on the tips of my fur. I look the same as any other rabbit in my nest, otherwise.”

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Geojit cackled. “Goodness, those little wisps couldn’t even compare!” Gyeowul hunched closer to the ground at the sound of her laughter. She felt embarrassed by the little tips of white on her fur. Still, despite how she felt, the white magpie laughed and laughed.

The darkness seemed to stretch on forever as they went. The frost began to cling to the pads of Gyeowul’s toes. Each tentative step felt sore and tender. How long until they reached the deepest part of the forest, she wondered. Even Geojit had fallen silent a while ago.

She could tell that the forest only grew thicker the further they went, as the space between the trees grew narrower, and the snow piled higher.

However, as she kept track of her own steps and Geojit’s, she heard a third pair of steps break against the hardened snow. She froze, perking her ears. Slowly, she swiveled her ears.

“Do you hear something?” Geojit asked, poking Gyeowul with her beak.

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She answered after a heartbeat, “I do.”

“Is it large?”

She listened. “No, it is not.”

“Well, then it must be a squirrel, or the like,” Geojit tutted.

Gyeowul furrowed her nose. She’d heard many squirrels before. She could recognize their hurried pattering, the long pauses in between jerky movement. No, the gait of whoever lurked ahead sounded too calm and too measured for a tiny

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forest creature. That fact aside, this had been the first she heard the sound of a living creature aside from her and Geojit.

“I think we should go around.”

“Nonsense! This is the shortest path and you said the creature hadn’t sounded large,” Geojit argued, fluttering her wings. “You aren’t afraid, are you?”

“Of course not!” Gyeowul snapped, though her body tensed all the same.

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As they argued, the sound of the mysterious steps grew louder. The soft crunch of snow hushed both rabbit and magpie. Gyeowul’s heart beat wildly against her chest, as she leaned into Geojit, who moved away when she did. She screwed her eyes, tightly, shut, flattening her body against the snow, hoping she’d be mistaken for a rock.

“Geojit, is that you?” the voice asked. It sounded deep and aged.

“Oh my, Gyeowul, I should have listened. To think we’d have the misfortune of running into this old fool,” Geojit sneered.

Gyeowul peeked her eyes open, sensing no hostility. In front of her stood a tall black rooster with blue arching tail feathers. The blue of his feathers seemed to shimmer like the night sky reflected in water. He stood tall and unafraid, as he stared down at the two of them.

“I see you had managed to fool this rabbit,” he remarked, staring down at Gyeowul. She bristled under his gaze.

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“Who are you?” she asked, offended.

“I am Chul. I wander this part of the forest and guide lost ones like you back to the safety of their homes and loved ones.”

“You’re a rooster,” she said, confused. “Aren’t you afraid of the Black Wolf? It is said to live here.”

At her remark, Chul laughed, deeply. “I am not afraid of the Black Wolf. Rather, it is afraid of me.”

“How could that be! A wolf afraid of a rooster?”

“Why it is true, rabbit. For you see, the Black Wolf is blind to the truth. It sees and hunts only liars. The Black Wolf cannot see that I am a rooster, however much my crow rings true. Because it knows not its opponent, it flees out of fear of meeting a beast much larger than it.”

Gyeowul puffed her fur. “Well, I’m not a liar!

I am also not lost. Geojit is leading me to find the Black Wolf’s red jewels.”

“Geojit,” Chul snorted, “is a known liar. For your own fortune, you would be wise not to listen to a thing she says.”

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Geojit squawked, “How dare you, you senile old thing!” She threw up snow with the rapid flapping of her wings. “Gyeowul, you don’t believe him, do you? Truly, have you ever heard such a ridiculous story of a wolf being afraid of a mere rooster?”

“Of course not!” Gyeowul exclaimed, though she shuffled her paws from the nervousness in her belly. “And I’ve never heard of the Black Wolf being able to find liars–or any such things like that!

You’re simply trying to scare me away–which I will not be–for I am not afraid of the Black Wolf.”

Chul sighed. “I have never met a rabbit as arrogant as you.” He tucked his wings in. “Since you intend on this foolhardy path, I will part with some advice instead. It is your decision, whether you wish to survive or not.”

He began: “Should you ever encounter the Black Wolf, you must always be honest. It does not believe the truth and only believes in lies.

But to become honest, you must first admit any wrongdoings you have committed–”

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“I have never committed any wrong,” Gyeowul sniped, raising her chin.

“–and carry a genuine desire to change. If you do this, Gyeowul, you will survive,” Chul finished.

“Oh, what rubbish,” Geojit drawled. “Come, Gyeowul,” she pecked at her side, “let us hurry before night falls. We wouldn’t want you arriving home too late.” Geojit hopped ahead, her sharp steps pricking the surface of the snow in an unsteady rhythm.

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“Wait for me!” Gyeowul cried out, skittering after the sound of Geojit’s steps. She fretted at being unable to see the sky, to tell the time. As she ran, the uneasiness in her heart compelled her to glance back to where Chul stood.

Even from a distance, she could see the blue of his feathers. He remained a speck of blue, until she ran so far she could see him no longer.

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iv. fool

As they reached deeper into the forest, the twist of the trees began to resemble matted fur. Light did not reach this part of the forest, as evidenced by the numerous dead branches and sprawling roots that upheaved the ground.

Gyeowul tread forward, carefully. The forest, though always silent, seemed, dreadfully, more so. Not a hint of life remained, as if this part of the forest had always been dead. Even her footsteps seemed to lack their usual cadence, slipping into the snow quietly. Though she could not tell, they had been walking for a long while.

“Are you sure it’s this way?” Gyeowul asked, voice hushed.

“Yes, this is the right way!” Geojit’s voice rang, shrilly, a sharp contrast against the stillness of the forest. Gyeowul flinched, expecting the Black Wolf to appear from the shadows.

“In fact, I do think we are close,” Geojit continued. “What was it you were looking for again? My memory’s a bit faulty.”

“The Black Wolf’s red jewels…” Gyeowul trailed off. A thin streak of light shone across her paws.

Surprised, she looked up, searching for the source.

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The sky remained unseeable as ever. She followed the light with her eyes, shushing Geojit, who huffed with a fluttering of feathers.

The line of light extended into the dark. The pure whiteness of it contrasted, starkly, against the shadowy snow. Gyeowul felt her heartbeat in her ears, excitement coursing through her. The light seemed as if a beacon of hope. It would lead her, she thought, though she did not know where that assurance came from.

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“Look, Geojit!” She jumped ahead. “There’s light up ahead! This must be the end!” Without checking to see if she followed, Gyeowul ran with increasing fervor. She could see the red jewels with her mind’s eye, the succulent berry bush that would win her the favor of her nest. Her mouth watered with anticipation.

She skidded to a halt, scanning the clearing in awe. At the far center grew a bush, where a sourceless ray of light shined down upon it. The light illuminated the red berries growing on its blackened branches. It also revealed that the bush lacked any leaves, with only thorns cluttering its thin pointed branches. However, Gyeowul paid no mind to the odd light nor the odd bush. She became bewitched by the berries, which shined as if they were jewels.

She padded across the clearing, lacking any sense of awareness as she did so. As she crept closer, the red berries reflected in her eyes. They looked delicious. She wondered if they tasted so.

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Subconsciously, her head bent forward, mouth opening wide enough to take one berry in. She pinched, gently, at the stem.

An eye peered at her from the dark.

She yelped, dropping the berry by her feet. She scurried to pick it up, tucking it into the fur of her neck. Many more eyes began to appear then. The eyes varied in width and size, though all had black slit pupils. They all seemed to be watching her.

Slowly, Gyeowul backed away, the eyes tracking her movement.

“Did,” a red slit pupil eye appeared, “someone take what belongs to me?” Its voice oozed like a sticky fog. Gyeowul continued to back away, scarce breathing a word.

“I know you’re there,” the voice said, “I know you took something of mine.”

She held her breath, as the eyes closed in. She could, faintly, see the outline of a wretched beast.

Its body resembled a starved wolf, with a large hunched back and many eyes covering its body.

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A single eye, with a red slit pupil, took the spot of where she expected two normal-sized eyes to be. Though she did not know the particularities of how the Black Wolf looked, as she only knew it from stories; she understood the wolf in front of her to be the beast of legends.

“Tell me, did you take what was mine?” the Black Wolf asked again. The many eyes on its body stared at Gyeowul, aside from the lone red one.

It looked all around the clearing, except at her.

She could hear its tail swish to-and-fro, cutting through the air. “If you admit to being a thief and return what you stole,” it spoke, sweetly, “I will let you go.”

It continued to pace forward. Gyeowul shuffled away, further and further until she could no longer see the light that had once been there. She licked her lips. Although the many eyes on its body seemed to stare straight at her, she could tell the Black Wolf, itself, did not know exactly where or who she was.

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Perhaps, she thought back to her encounter with Chul, she could escape so long as she didn’t speak. Slowly, she crept back.

However, misfortune had led her that day. A sharp pain–too hard and too long to be a thorn– snagged her haunches, dragging into her skin.

She yelped, loudly, alerting the Black Wolf to her presence. Its head snapped to her, stalking closer.

“I knew you were there!” it, giddily, shouted.

“Tell me; are you the thief?” Its red eye continued to wander, scanning the tree line behind her.

Though, it circled around her all the same. She had been trapped. The Black Wolf circled too close for her to escape. Gyeowul breathed, deeply, gathering what little courage she had.

“No one stole your berries,” she answered as loudly as she could muster. Her lie echoed in the clearing. The Black Wolf’s red eye widened, then narrowed as its wandering pupil finally landed on her. A wicked grin split its gaping maw, its tongue falling out.

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“I see you, thief!” it exclaimed. “I see the liar brought me a rabbit.” It reared back, prying its jaw apart. Gyeowul could see the tips of sharp and broken white teeth.

“Geojit!” she screeched, as she scrambled away.

She heard the rapid flapping of wings. She glanced behind her. Geojit was nowhere to be seen. Instead, white feathers floated down from the air. When they landed in the snow, she could see some of the feathers mixed in were colored black. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. She had been lied to.

A large maw chomped at her hide. The Black Wolf jeered at her with its many crescent-shaped eyes. Jolted out of her frozen fright, Gyeowul bolted back along the path she could remember coming from. She angled her ears to and fro, listening as the Black Wolf, recklessly, crashed through the brambles and branches. She could hear the thinner trees snapping and landing in the snow, dully, behind her as it ran without care. It did not seem capable of dodging the trees in its path.

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Realizing this, she ran to her right, aiming for the small gap in between the upturned roots of a thick tree. She skidded into a mix of snow and dirt as another thunderous crash echoed in the forest.

Gyeowul gasped short and stuttered breaths, nestling as deep into the roots as she could. She willed her beating heart to still. Her ears twitched at the slightest of sounds as the Black Wolf stumbled around the clearing, searching for her in its beastly manner.

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Soon, its thoughtless steps quieted. An eerie calm began to settle. After many moments, she heard it snort.

The Black Wolf did not seem to know where she hid. Gyeowul shifted on her haunches. Perhaps, if she kept quiet, she could sneak away. Making up her mind, she crawled forward. The snorting had stopped and she could hear no other movement from the Black Wolf. She angled her ears, trying to catch any hint of noise. When all she could hear

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was the low whisper of wind, she determined that the Black Wolf had left to search elsewhere.

Gathering her courage, she wriggled her way out of her hiding hole. Squinting, she searched for another tree she could hide under. Many of them had been knocked over from the Black Wolf’s earlier rampage.

However, from some bounds and leaps away, she spotted the thick trunk of a still-standing tree.

She could see that its roots contained many, albeit narrow, gaps for her to fit through.

She gulped. Though she dreaded running into the Black Wolf, it seemed that the tree would be her safest option. Hastily, her gaze scanned the tree line one last time, looking for any signs of the Black Wolf and its many eyes.

Believing it safe, Gyeowul breathed, deeply, and leapt. Her paws kicked up the soft snow with each silent leap, as she made her way to the tree. The tree’s silhouette grew clearer as she got closer. Her heart quickened, as she felt relief.

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She had been midway when, in a turn of illfortune, she landed on a long thin branch. It snapped, loudly, under her foot. She froze, as the sound traveled through the trees. Her stomach dropped, as a dense presence closed in around her.

As if the Black Wolf encompassed the dark itself, a single eye peered at her from between the trees. It shone like a beacon in the dark. A second one appeared right after. Like before, the many eyes opened one by one, peering down at her. Until, finally, a lone red eye appeared above her. “I found you, thief.�

It laughed, shrilly. Gyeowul’s heart leapt into her throat, as she sprinted the rest of the distance to the tree. She heard the start of its large paws hitting the ground, chasing after her. It gasped and growled, jaw clamping open and shut, as its colossal body slammed through every single tree in its path.

Gyeowul reached the tree first, the Black Wolf still stumbling in the dark. She tested the first of

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the gaps in the roots. She bumped her head against the opening, finding it too small. She tested the one next to it, then the one next to that. She could hear the Black Wolf draw closer, all the while.

“No, no, no, no!” she whispered, as she tried to press into each gap. She heard a garbled howl ring behind her. She began to dig at a loose root partially covering one of the gaps. Her claws tore at the root’s sinew. The dense presence returned.

Without turning, Gyeowul could feel the eyes watching her.

Her heart thumped as the root finally tore enough for her to fit her head into the gap. She dove, kicking her hind legs as the presence closed in. She could feel the nip of the Black Wolf’s teeth on her fur, its pungent breath following after her. It laughed, as its lone red eye peered into the gap. She stared, wide-eyed, back at it.

“Are you hiding here, thief?” it asked, red-eye gaze roving around her hiding spot. It seemed to linger on her, before moving away.

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Gyeowul remained silent, watching as it continued to paw and dig against the roots of the tree. It snorted and sniffed where she hid. It would only be a matter of time before it dug through.

Gyeowul lamented her situation, as she searched the cramped space for any escape. She could not see one. The roots so had been so packed together that the sounds made by the Black Wolf echoed, dully, within the walls.

She screwed her eyes shut, tucking her legs under her, resembling a compact ball. She hoped and prayed that the Black Wolf would tire of its chase before the tree fell.

“Are you still here, thief?” it continued to ask, as it clawed at the roots. She reared back when one of its claws caught on the opening to her hiding place.

If only she hadn’t insisted berry bushes grew in the winter, she thought. If she hadn’t embarked on this foolish quest, if she had picked the crocus flower instead, if she had listened to Yeoreum–and oh, the many ifs she asked herself!

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Perhaps if she hadn’t been so foolish, she would be sitting in the cozy warmth of her den, rather than the cold inky darkness she sat in now.

Gyeowul sniffled, quietly, feeling very alone.

Yeoreum had always warned her of her foolishness getting her into trouble one day.

Though Yeoreum chided her often, Gyeowul understood, in the truth of her heart, that the other rabbit said it out of the goodness of her own. Of all the rabbits in their nest, Yeoreum had been the only one to speak to her even when all the other rabbits had grown tired of her lies.

Oh, what she wouldn’t give to speak to her again! She would apologize to Yeoreum a hundred times over, and admit all the lies she’d ever told.

Now, it would be too late, for she had snubbed and squandered all the opportunities given to her.

She had chased away Yoonu, who warned her of Geojit’s deceit. She had walked away from Chul, who offered to guide her back, who may have been her last chance to go home.

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Gyeowul then furrowed her brow, thinking of Chul. Geojit had warned her not to trust him.

However, she had been the one to betray her. If Geojit had been lying then, would that mean he had been telling the truth? Her eyes widened in sudden realization.

Hesitantly, she called out, “Black Wolf?” The digging stopped. “I’m here,” she gulped, “I’m here!” she yelled louder, “I’m right here, underneath you!”

Immediately, she heard the scuffling of paws that scrambled away from her. She held her breath, as she listened to the Black Wolf run opposite to where she claimed to be. She could hear it howl, scuffing at another tree. Carefully, she poked her head out.

It seemed, utterly, distracted by the other tree. It scratched, dug, and sniffed at the other tree’s roots, asking if she were there. Chul claimed the Black Wolf could only see lies and liars. It was blind, otherwise. Gyeowul’s heart began to pound. Hope began to creep back into her heart.

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Gathering her wits, she bounded over the tree’s roots, not caring for the noise she made. When the Black Wolf began its chase, she yelled, “I’m here, I’m here!” The Black Wolf chased, wildly, after the lies it sought in her voice, unable to discern the truth in it.

Like this, Gyeowul, steadily, increased the distance between her and the Black Wolf, as it continued to hunt for her.

“I’m here, I’m here!”

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Over and over, she yelled until her voice felt raw. Right as she thought her voice would finally give, a steely crow reverberated through the trees.

The sound of it echoed like a gong everywhere.

The Black Wolf whined, as it scrabbled to a halt with its tail in between its legs. The many eyes on its body scrunched closed, as if unwilling to see.

Its lone red eye searched, frantically, for the source of the sound. When the crow sounded for a second time, it yelped and stumbled over its feet in

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a pathetic attempt to escape. It tripped on its own paws, slipping in the snow, as it crashed deeper into the forest.

Gyeowul watched, in amazement, as the Black Wolf, oafishly, fled. She could never, in all her days, imagine such an impressive beast afraid of a measly sound.

She tensed in apprehension when she heard the sound of someone approaching. She relaxed, however, when she recognized whom the calm cadence of the steps belonged to.

“Chul!” she exclaimed, running to him. He bowed his head in recognition, before standing straight once more.

“Gyeowul, I’m glad to see you again.”

“How did you find me?” she asked, falling in line with his step as he indicated for her to follow.

He shook his head, his tail feathers swaying in time. “I did not find you, you found me.”

She tilted her head, peering up at him. “How is that possible? I wasn’t looking for you.”

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“You may not have been looking for me, but the truth led you to me. The moment you admitted your wrongs and accepted change in your heart, the path became open to you.”

Gyeowul’s eyes widened out of awe. “What you said saved me.”

“No,” he shook his head, “you saved yourself. I had, merely, given you some advice. Whether you followed it or not, was your decision.”

“Still, if it were not for you, I’d be the Black Wolf’s dinner right now! So, thank you, Chul,” Gyeowul said, sincerity in her voice.

“And,” she paused, standing still. Chul faced her, waiting. “I’m sorry for accusing you of lying.

You were telling the truth all along, and my pride blinded me to it. I hope you can forgive me.”

“All is forgiven, Gyeowul. So long as you’ve learned from your mistakes, it is never too late to grow.” He smiled at her, gesturing for her to follow him out of the thick of the forest.

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v. home

They exited the deepest part of the forest, evidenced by how the early morning rays glinted off the fresh snow. Gyeowul turned to Chul, who remained in the thicker part of the forest. “Will you be going back?”

“Yes, in case any other animal strays from their paths,” he replied. “And, of course, to frighten the Black Wolf.” He laughed, causing Gyeowul to smile as she remembered how fearful it acted.

“I see. We part ways here, then,” she said.

“Farewell, Gyeowul. I wish you good fortune.”

He bowed, turning away.

“Goodbye, Chul, and thank you!” Gyeowul called after him, watching as he walked away.

She circled back to her own path. This time, she did not watch to see him go. The journey home would take a while. Chul had said, so long as she continued straight, she would be home before the morning’s end. He had walked her back to the clearing where she first met Yoonu and Geojit.

Picking up her pace, she stopped in the middle of the clearing, searching, hopefully, for black and blue feathers. She glanced at the branches, hoping to see Yoonu sitting on one of them.

“Gyeowul?” a delighted chirp sounded above her. She looked up to see a pair of blue eyes staring down at her. Yoonu fluttered down to a lower branch. “You’re alive!”

“Yoonu!” Gyeowul exclaimed, bouncing on her feet. “Oh, Yoonu, I’m so happy to see you!” At her proclamation, Yoonu perked up, flying down to perch nearer to Gyeowul.

“So many things had happened since we last met. You were right about Geojit and the sun, and I met a rooster named Chul who helped me, and,

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and,” she exhaled in a rush. “I’m so sorry for how I acted towards you. Would you ever forgive me?”

Yoonu landed next to Gyeowul, puffing her chest out. “I forgive you, of course, Gyeowul. I’ve never held any ill will towards you, and I’m glad to see you’ve returned.” She tapped Gyeowul, lightly.

“Where are you headed now?” she asked.

“I’m on my way home.” Gyeowul replied. Then, after a hopeful pause, she asked, “Will we ever meet again, Yoonu?”

Yoonu smiled. “So long as you remain honest and work hard, good fortune will always find you,” she chirped. She flapped her wings. “Until next time, Gyeowul! Farewell!”

“Goodbye, Yoonu!” Gyeowul cried out, as the magpie launched towards the sky, circling the clearing once, before disappearing.

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vi. epilogue

On her way back, Gyeowul passed the brook she and all the other small animals drank from. She hadn’t realized her throat had been so parched. In the water’s reflection, she could see the leaves of a patch of crocuses. They bloomed purple, white, and yellow.

Hopping over the narrowest part of the brook, she admired the colorful petals on each. Their petals curled, happily, towards the sun. After a moment’s wondering, she, carefully, nipped one of the stems of a purple crocus. She hoped Yeoreum would like it.

As she did so, the berry she had brought back fell out of her fur. It landed in the snow, a sickly

shade of red, and rotted. White mold grew along its surface in a pattern reminiscent of the Black Wolf’s red eye. It laid in the shade casted by one of the crocus flowers.

Gyeowul, satisfied, kicked off in an excited hurry. She did not notice the berry, as she had long forgotten it. Thus, the berry would remain under the shade of the crocuses, until it next snowed, buried at last.

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Jessica Kim is a Korean American

born in Fairfax, Virginia. She is an illustrator, designer, and storyteller who is dedicated to telling stories where every child can be their own hero. She will be graduating, December 2020, from George Mason University with a BA in Art and Visual Technology.

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Gyeowul is an overconfident rabbit known for her many tales and lies. On a quiet winter’s evening, Gyeowul boasts her biggest lie, embarking on a quest to retrieve the legendary Black Wolf’s red jewels. Thus, she ventures deep into the forest. Will she be successful in her endeavors? Or will her stubbornness and pride be the end of her?