Jungkook

Yuan remembered it so clearly, as if she were still there. She was only six, a little fox cub, just learning to transform into her other self. She remembered the screams, remembered the faces of the people, the people whose hearts were poisoned by fear who had come in the night.
"Sorcerers, spawns of darkness, burn them!"—these cries still echoed in her ears when she woke at night in a cold sweat.
They set their house on fire. Yuan remembered the smell of smoke, seared into her memory, and remembered her mother scooping her up in her arms. She carried her through the fire, suffering terrible burns, and ran into the forest as fast as her legs could carry her.
They survived, but my mother grew weaker with each passing year. Burns, cold winters, and unbearable grief for her murdered father exhausted her.
When Yuan was ten, she woke up in their little hole to find her mother no longer breathing, the scent of her favorite flowers fading away, leaving her alone.
From then on, she learned to be alone. She forgot what human speech sounded like, save for the rare words she whispered to herself to keep from going mad. She hunted in fox form, slept in trees, and never, under any circumstances, approached the edge of the forest, beyond which began the lands of the people—the people who had taken everything from her.
The village hadn't changed in the ten years he'd been gone. Same fences, same road, same curious glances from behind the curtains.

Jungkook exhaled, stopping his SUV in front of the house, the residence of the headman, his father.
Chon, a purebred wolf and heir to the pack, was sent to the capital many years ago to receive a prestigious education and learn about modern werewolves in the civilized world. The city taught him much: business, control of his instincts, diplomacy, but the city couldn't erase one thing: the feeling of wrongness that had haunted him since childhood.
He remembered that night, even though he was just a wolf cub then, he remembered the conversations of the adults.
“We have cleared our land of red demons,” they said... Foxes are death