Chapter 13: Thirty-Six Coffins

By morning, William came back, leading a convoy of pickup trucks. He wrinkled his nose, eyeing my father and the men: "Did you leave the circle last night? Y’all smell like rutting animals."

They lied, blaming the flowers. William didn’t buy it. He turned to me, but before I could speak, my father punched me in the back. Pain exploded, metallic and sharp. I bit my tongue and played mute.

William let it go, then had everyone cover the grave with wreaths until it looked like a florist’s shop. He brought out thirty-six tiny red coffins, three feet tall, standing them upright like toy soldiers.

The townsfolk panicked, wanting to burn them, but William shook his head:

"Wild things protect their own. If the Wild King finds out what you did, you’re done for. These coffins are a shield—a Heavenly Stems Thirty-Six Formation. If he doesn’t see the wild woman’s fate, maybe he’ll spare you."

My father tried to joke about catching more wild women and using them for work and pleasure, but William’s face turned black as coal:

"You go after the Wild King, you’ll all die."

The townspeople went home to barbecue and pretend nothing happened.

But William took me aside, his grip gentle on my wrist, his eyes searching mine...