BOTTLED PAIN

Jin was seated on a tree stump in front of the hut. He was watching the old man drag a carcass of a dead boar into the clearing where he lived.

He had been here for the past week now, and he had realized a few things since he came here. The first of which was the fact that despite his appearance, the old man who had saved him was anything but weak. He had watched the man chop wood, cut down trees, and snap the neck of animals like it was an afternoon chore for him.

The second thing he had learned was that the man always seemed to leave the house around evening, only to come back in the mornings with slight injuries on his body. Every attempt he had made at trying to find out the cause of these injuries had been met with long-lasting silence on the man's part.

He looked down at his own injury – or at least what was left of it – and traced his hand across the slightly red skin.