Walking the familiar woods in the back of his home, Hakyeon carries a crudish made knive, ears peeled for any noise, it’s very cold tonight… Too cold even.

But everything is quiet.

Despite the hunters saying this place is haunted by evil dryads and vengeful gods, he has faith no unfair judgement shall fall over the innocent, and him, devoted to his oath as a soldier, is so very sure the hymns of death won't come for him anywhere but the battlefield, where he is fated to fall.

He isn't all that fond of battle but the god have chosen this destiny for him and they wouldn't do him wrong. They are fair.

But the people say something is coming, that there is blood in the water. So he goes, wandering through the woods at night to look for a beast that might not be more than a stray wolf killing the sheep in distant farms.

But then he hears singing.

High voice that could easily belong to a woman but somehow feels unfitting to one. A young boy then? A child? What is a child doing in the woods singing? Lost maybe?

Or a trap?

Could be it too?

Then silence.

It’s too cold for anyone to be here, all the coats and skins he uses are not doing enough in keeping him warm… His fingers are numb, his nose is, too.

Hakyeon, being part of family of merchants was never too rich, and his mother not being his father's first wife never was expected to amount to much in life, he isn't the oldest or the favorite. The army was a nice form to avoid becoming too much of a disappointment. His mother on the other hand was a lovely woman with her silky caramel skin and thick dark hair.

She says often Hakyeon is too beautiful to be a soldier, that it will ruin his soft hands in time, and his narrow shoulders and slim waist are to feminine for a man.

His feet crack on a stick, he stills, the air is bruisingly cold, burning all the all the way to his lungs. There is movement ahead, near the trees, a clear sky despite the snow under his feet. The moon is bright and he carries a torch.

A man?

Resting against a tree in the dark, eyes closed and mumbling light spoken words under his breath.

Lips blue.

In light clothes.

Skin too pale for him to be from anywhere near this place, a scar from his mouth to his cheek, short lashes still.

Cheeks and nose covered heavily in freckles.

Hair jet black in a wavy mess around his entire face, sticking in directions but seemingly soft, despite the leaves stuck into it.

And his mouth, small and pouty, parted, the tip is his pinkish tongue touching his his lower lip slightly.

He feels himself gasp, run to aid him. “Are you hurt?” And the man is quiet to open his eyes, continue his soft spoken singing and stare into his eyes with ocean blue ones. Has he gone mad? Has he been lost for too long? Here? In the snow? “Where are you from?”

But he doesn't answer, he blinks through his blue eyes and tilts his head like he cannot fathom what he is trying to say, seemingly uninterested in him. “Answer me.” It is possible that this man cannot even understand his words, that they don’t speak the same language.

Too placid for a man lost in the snow.

Alone.

At night.

“Far.” He finally tells him, interrupting his singing when Hakyeon kneels beside him, accent heavy and throaty, as if he hasn’t spoken in more than mumbles for days, maybe weeks.

“Come, I will help you.” He reaches for the man’s hand and feels it feverish, scaldingly hot in comparison to the snow, the air, the earth, himself. Hakyeon startles. “You-”

“What you do in the dark hummingbird?” He takes a gentle hold of his hands, warm, skin soft, long fingers and short nails, caked in dirt.

Hakyeon is fast to recover from his shock. “I can tell you later. Come with me, I know about an abandoned lodge nearby. I use it when it’s too late to go back home.”  He pushes himself up and the man stares at him curiously. “Can you stand?”

“Why take a stranger with you?”

“I must help a lost man in the woods, it’s too cold I can’t simply leave you.”

He stands.

Tall.

Taller than him.

By a few inches.

“Lead.” He tells