Mihn’s anger rolled off her in waves, and Chan did not find it adorable. Something bitter coiled in his chest at the sight and sound.

“Easy, human,” said the other elf, and Mihn twitched like he’d stabbed her with a hot iron. “We just got excited.”

While Mihn and the elves had their standoff, Chan kept half an eye on the human who’d fallen. The middle-aged man staggered to his feet and didn’t take the time to dust off the seat of his pants before doing a very poor impression of a stealth walk.

Chan raised one eyebrow. He may have found the drunk.

“Sir–” he started, as the man side-stepped his way around Mihn and the elves. Or, tried to.

One moment he was grinning stupidly, the next, Injae had an iron grip around his bicep. “It’s time for you to leave.” Injae’s smile was dangerous, long fangs flashing.

“You’re a– a–” the man stuttered as he paled.

She leered, a slightly manic glint in her red eyes. “A gumiho, yes. I’m a gumiho who carved this Reserve out of the government’s greedy clutches one hundred years ago. I’m a gumiho who will happily maim any person who tries to harm the animals here.” Injae pressed closer with every word, until the drunk man was bent so far backward he was in danger of falling over again. Injae’s grip on his arm kept him upright, but Chan knew there would be marks on the man’s skin when she finally let go.

“Dad!” came a horrified whisper from the human mother. She scampered forward and took the drunk’s other arm. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’ll take him away,” she said to Injae, bowing to her before shaking her father’s arm. 

“When did you drink, Dad? It’s barely noon! This was supposed to be a fun outing with your grandson!” She sounded equal parts furious and heartbroken, her eyes growing wet. 

A young voice floated into the tense air. “Does this mean we can’t see the magical creatures?” If the mother sounded heartbroken, her son looked it. His chin trembled and his cheeks already held tears.

“I–”

“Of course not,” Chan announced, cutting the mother off. All heads turned to him. He smiled as winningly as he knew how (which was pretty damn winningly). “You’re grandpa and I will hang out here, and you and your mom can follow Ms. Yang on the tour, just like you planned.”

The faces of the child and mother brightened. “Oh, really?” she asked. “He might be a handful.”

“I only had two bottles, Hyeri,” groused grandpa. “I’m not out of my mind.”

Chan didn’t miss the scathing look Mihn gave him as she jogged over to take the unicorn’s rope from him. The look held all of Mihn’s contempt and exasperation for Chan’s “irrational people-pleasing that just shows you lack any sense of self-preservation,” –as she had told him several times over the past four years.

Ah, he could hear her voice now, the memory played like a beloved song through his head.

Chan turned his smile on Mihn, and she rolled her eyes. The tightness in his chest loosened. That was the brand of upset Chan liked to see. Exasperation and irritation looked much better than…whatever kind of anger Mihn had unfurled earlier. 

Mihn had always been protective of the wildlife who called the Reserve their home–magical or not. But Chan couldn’t help but feel there was more to it just now.

“I’d be happy to keep you company, sir,” said Chan. He walked forward, and Injae handed the man off to him with a nod and a sunny smile. At least one person appreciated his sacrifices.

Injae clapped her hands, nails a bit sharper and longer than a human’s. “Let’s go, everyone! Who wants to see a pixiu?”

Injae and the tourists walked away in one direction, and Mihn sashayed away in the other, guiding the mare. No one spared Chan and the drunken grandpa a look.

“In my day, a man could drink and do whatever he wanted! This generation has gotten soft,” grumbled the grandpa.

Chan sighed and gazed longingly after Mihn’s graceful figure. It was going to be a long afternoon.

*

*

*

Exhaustion pulling at every limb, Chan closed the door on the velvet night, shutting out the sounds of frogs and crickets and banshees. Despite his fatigue, he resisted the urge to flop his filthy body onto his bed. Shower first.

The Rangers Cabin was all rustic wooden floors and textured walls. A bunk bed was shoved against one side of the one large main room, a scratched chest of drawers and various boxes next to it. Chan’s was the bottom bunk, his thick star-patterned blanket tucked perfectly beneath his single huge cartoon-dog pillow. During his off weeks, Hwa took this bed. 

Mihn furnished her mattress with no less than four blankets, all in shades of red and purple, at least one of them made of satin. She also had three small pillows the size of  his foot. It was the strangest sleeping set-up Chan had ever seen. 

Beyond their bunk-beds and dresser was a small kitchen area. A fridge, a sink, and a No-Burn Magi-grill was all they had to cook with while they were on duty. In this, Mihn and Chan were unified in their dissatisfaction. However, Hwa and Briggs never complained about it; those two seemed to live on protein bars and zap meals while working. 

The only private space was the single bathroom. Chan took two dragging steps toward it before he realized the single shower was running. He’d have to wait his turn.

He groaned, loud and long, putting his hands on his lower back and arching. Little puffs of dried mud fell from his clothes. During the afternoon, he hadn't wanted to leave the drunk man alone to come here and change, and he hadn't dared to bring him. 

This was a place he shared with Mihn, and Mihn was extremely protective of her space. It wouldn’t be right to bring a stranger here, close to her things, close to where she slept. Chan liked seeing Mihn mad, not betrayed. 

Chan scratched his hip. He couldn't stand his itchy clothes any more. Between the dried mud, his own sweat, and bits of flora and fauna, he was about to crawl out of his own skin. It didn’t take more than a half second of consideration before he stripped every one of his crusty, damp, itchy clothes off, leaving them in a pile by the front door until he wore only the pink boundary bracelet.

So much better. Air kissing every inch of his skin. He eyed the shower door impatiently, scrubbing a hand through his loose black curls. More mud-dust and bits of grass fell from his scalp and onto his broad, square shoulders. 

Fishing around in the toiletries box, Chan pulled out a Clean-It spellrag. It was calibrated to pick up pretty much everything that could be considered a mess. Chan never read the fine print on magical products, and whatever a witch said when they handed him his purchase went in one ear and out the other. There was a reason Chan didn't choose the witch career path. As If his Witchcraft 101 failing grade hadn't clued him in. He simply had always been profoundly uninterested in brewing potions or enchanting objects for a living. 

The shower sound cut off as Chan crouched over his dirty clothes, wiping them with the spellrag. All traces of nature clung to the cloth like magic. (It was magic.)

With his back to the bathroom, Chan only heard the door creaking open. Mihn's disgusted scoff rang out moments later. Eyes still on his rapidly cleaning clothes, Chan grinned to himself.

"Have mercy on my eyes, you barbarian!"

Chan affected a nonchalant air. "I don't know what you're talking about." He stood and turned.

Mihn’s eyes slipped shut as he did so, her clenched teeth bared in a snarl. Oh, she looked pissed. Pissed and beautiful.

“You are the absolute worst, Chan. You couldn’t have waited until you were in the shower to strip?”

"Nope," Chan said simply, popping the p obnoxiously. He paused, taking this chance to stare at his partner without getting distracted by a lovely glare.

A fluffy yolk-yellow towel draped over Mihn's head, and loose gray shorts clung to her hips. A modest sports bra covered her breasts entirely, while the rest of her honeyed skin was slightly flushed, making the black of the leopard spots tattooed on her left shoulder stand out. 

Chan had always thought Mihn’s choice of tattoo location a bit odd, especially the fact that they filled in the shape of a handprint. He’d asked about it once, and her jaw had gone hard. “Shut up, moron.” Chan hadn’t brought it up again. 

Mihn’s eyes were still screwed shut, her nose scrunched adorably. "Hurry up and get in there," she growled.

“Did you get the unicorn settled?”

Mihn looked like she’d bitten into something sour. “Do you think I’d be here if I hadn’t?”

“No, of course not. Just… she was really fixated on turning back.”

“Yeah, she was. But once we got to the other side of the mountain, she stopped trying to get away.”

Chan stared at her hard, searching for so much as a twitch of reaction. “Didn’t that seem strange to you?” He knew Mihn felt something strange. Had seen it in the feral lines of her body, in the intense stare she’d leveled at the forest.

Mihn’s groan filled the room. “Chan, do you have to talk to me while you’re naked? Wait until after your shower.”

“Nah. Knowing you, you’ll be asleep by the time I’m done.”

“And I’m a light sleeper. So you can just wake me up.”

“Then you’ll be grumpy and won’t talk anyway.”

Mihn muttered something perturbed under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, “How’d you get to know me so well?”

Chan bit his lip to keep his laughter in check. Then, because he had no self-preservation instinct (and because he wanted to give Mihn an outlet for her irritation–he was such a saint), he poked Mihn’s warm, firm waist.

“Hey!” Mihn–eyes still closed–twisted and grabbed Chan’s finger and wrist, pressing until Chan was on his knees to keep his finger unbroken.

“I’m sorry!” Chan gasped through his helpless smile. “I’ll go shower now. I promise!”

Mihn released him and stepped back, eyebrows drawn low over her closed eyes, fluffy towel swaying.

Chan stumbled into the bathroom and started the shower. Warm water washed the stress and filth from his body, but couldn’t wash away the nagging thought that Mihn was hiding something about the unicorn’s wandering.

When he stepped out, worn green-striped towel wrapped around his waist, Mihn was a motionless lump in her bunk bed. He smiled to himself as he pulled on a pair of boxers and lay down atop his blanket. He was quiet about it, because for all he loved teasing her, he didn’t want to rob Mihn of her rest.

Chan closed his eyes and happily drifted off to sleep. 

A few hours later, pain spiked through his temple like a thousand thundering hooves.