Wei stumbled forward, almost colliding with Chun's back as he followed her into the darkness.
The narrow tunnel scraped mercilessly at his arms and shoulders. The stone walls were uneven and jagged, like a row of crooked teeth lined with hidden barbs, tearing at skin and cloth alike. He felt the pressure, the friction, but not the pain. His body had already decided that pain was a luxury it could no longer afford.
His breathing was erratic, hammering inside his chest, each breath too shallow, too fast. It felt as though his lungs had been stuffed with grit.
When they finally burst out of the hidden passage, the night wind slammed into them head-on. It was sharp and biting, cutting through sweat-soaked clothes in an instant.
They had entered the forest.
The familiar forest.
Branches swayed overhead, their silhouettes twisting and overlapping in the dark. The air carried the damp scent of soil and rotting leaves, a smell Wei had known his entire life. Tonight, it felt hostile, as if the forest itself had turned its back on them.
Without thinking, Wei glanced over his shoulder, toward the direction of home.
There was nothing.
Nothing but darkness.
It was not ordinary darkness. It felt stained, soaked through with something darker, something red. The shadows pressed against his vision like a cloth dipped in blood and smeared across his eyes. He blinked hard, but the color clung stubbornly to his sight.
Then came the sound.
A dull, muffled boom echoed from afar.
Then another.
Each explosion was swallowed by the mountains and the forest, pressed down until it became low and blunt, like the earth itself coughing under an unbearable weight.
Wei's heart clenched.
He knew that sound far too well.
The distinctive thud of fire oil detonating. The sound of pressure building and collapsing inward. He had mixed those compounds himself. He had lit those fuses with his own hands more times than he could count.
His father only used them when there was no other way left.
Only when retreat was no longer an option.
His thoughts began to spiral.
How is Dad?
Can he get away?
Will he…
Wei forced himself to stop. He could not finish that thought. He refused to.
The direction of the explosions had already been swallowed completely by the night. Only a vague, broken outline remained, as if the darkness had kneaded it again and again until nothing recognizable was left. Occasionally, a flicker of fire flashed and vanished before smoke could even rise.
They kept moving.
Then, without warning, Wei slapped his own forehead hard enough to sting.
"Why didn't I think of it earlier?
"Why didn't I tell my dad to come through the tunnel with us?"
"Idiot."
Chun snapped the word out before she could stop herself.
"If he did that, the enemy would find the exit immediately."
She raised her hand, instinctively, the way Wei's father often did when the boy said something particularly foolish. She stopped halfway, her fingers trembling, then let her hand fall.
"Your father did that because…"
Her voice caught.
She could not finish the sentence.
Instead, she grabbed Wei's wrist, turned sharply, and pulled him deeper into the forest without another word.
Wei lifted his sleeve and wiped his face, trying to do it quietly.
It did nothing.
His vision remained blurred. His eyes burned, the corners tight and aching. He could not tell whether it was the cold wind, or the fear gnawing at his chest, or the thought of his father standing alone against impossible odds.
At some point, he realized he was crying again.
The tears slid down into his mouth. They tasted faintly metallic, tinged with blood.
"Wei…"
Chun's voice came from just ahead of him, barely louder than a whisper.
"We're going to be okay, right?"
"Yes."
Wei forced the word out, pushing air into his lungs and straightening his back.
"We'll be fine. I could walk out of this forest with my eyes closed."
"Oh."
Chun answered softly.
But she did not speed up.
The trees thickened as they pressed onward. Shadows stacked upon shadows. Branches and leaves tangled together, forming walls of black that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction.
The ground grew more treacherous with every step. Loose stones rolled underfoot. Wet moss slicked the earth. Hidden roots snagged at their ankles.
Thorns tore at Chun's arms and face as she pushed through the undergrowth. Thin lines of blood appeared on her skin, catching faint traces of moonlight before disappearing into the dark.
She did not slow down.
She forced a path forward with her shoulders and forearms, parting branches and vines through sheer determination.
"Keep going," Wei said, still trying to sound steady.
But his own pace was faltering.
Every time he tried to focus, to use that strange perception he had relied on so often, the pain behind his eyes flared. His vision blurred further, tears spilling freely. The more he strained, the worse it became.
That ability, whatever it truly was, betrayed him when he needed it most.
For now, it was useless.
Chun's movements began to change.
Wei noticed it only after several steps.
Before placing her foot down, she would pause for a fraction of a second. The hesitation was almost imperceptible, but it was there. A brief suspension, as if she were bracing herself, or testing the darkness ahead with her body.
Then came the sound.
A faint snap.
So light it could have been mistaken for a twig breaking under its own weight.
Wei froze.
His entire body went rigid.
"Stop."
He pushed past Chun and crouched low, his heart pounding. He reached forward cautiously, fingers brushing against the ground.
Cold.
Metallic.
A chill shot up his arm and settled in his chest.
His stomach dropped.
Hidden beneath the grass lay a steel trap.
Its jaws were half concealed by leaves and dirt, teeth bared and waiting. It was not placed carelessly at the edge of a trail, where animals usually passed.
It sat directly in their path.
Like a mouth left open, patiently waiting to close.
"What is it?"
Chun whispered behind him.
"Did you find something?"
Wei swallowed.
"We might have drifted off the main path," he said, a little awkward.
"Oh."
Chun tried to sound reassuring.
"Then we just turn back."
But Wei already knew.
They had crossed into a trap zone.
This part of the forest was riddled with them. Snares, pits, steel jaws hidden under leaves and soil. Some meant to cripple. Others meant to kill.
They were surrounded by invisible teeth.
One wrong step was all it would take.
And the forest was no longer just dark.
It was watching.
But suddenly, a thought struck him.
Why had his father always placed traps in this area?
Just a little farther north, there were deer. Wild boar. Clear tracks, obvious signs.
Only here was the wind strong and the animals scarce, like a dead patch of land forgotten by hunters.
Year after year, his father had set traps only here.
Other hunters laughed at him, said he must be blind. His father would just lower his head and repair iron, never offering a single explanation.
Had his father been preparing for today all along?
Father.
What kind of man are you, really?
And if you are a bad man, then what does that make me?