They drew lots to put them into groups and see who would go out first, since Jino said it was a bad idea for a group of over twenty kids with weird accents to suddenly show up en masse in the nearest town.  Jinsu landed herself in the first group with Kyungsoo, Sehun and Kim Jongin, which left her jittery, but considering that Minhwan was picked out in the next lot, she decided it was actually a very good group to have.  After being told the rules yet again by Jino (which resulted in a lot of chafing at the bit from the boys), they were allowed to leave.  Jongin and Sehun practically sprinted out of the Attayear like they were starting a one hundred metre dash, leaving Kyungsoo smiling and shaking his head as he followed them at a brisk, but much slower, walk.

Unsure of whether she should stick with them or whether they’d prefer her to go off and leave them alone, Jinsu hesitated for a few moments before stepping out into the bright sunshine of the Balhae kingdom.

The first thing that struck her was the noise.  The Attayear’s engines had powered down, leaving the machine silent, and they’d landed in a clearing in what had to be a forest.  Dappled shadows ran around the clearing and trees rustled under a light breeze, but the bird song. . .  Transfixed, Jinsu stopped to listen.  She’d never heard something so beautiful.  Seoul had its fair share of pidgeons, but the main wildlife noises on the streets came from cicadas, especially in summer.  She reckoned the last time she’d heard proper birdsong was several years back when she’d been on a family holiday in the Camague in France.

It wasn’t just one bird, either.  Jinsu struggled to identify exactly what type of birds were singing, but it was harmonious, dancing back and forth between the trees as though the feathered animals were having some banterous conversation.  She turned, squinting into the trees as she tried to catch sight of one of the singers, but was soon distracted by a train of large yellow and purple butterflies fluttering past.

Delighted, she felt a proper smile breaking out over her face, her anxiety over being stuck in the Attayear melting away.  Who would have known that the colours and sounds would be so beautifully vibrant?  Even the air smelt fresher and cleaner than any she’d experienced – even compared to high altitude when she was skiing.

One of the butterflies darted down and landed on her shoulder, so close that one of its wings brushed against her neck as they trembled in the breeze.  Jinsu held her breath, hardly daring to turn towards the brilliant purple creature in case she scared it away.

Kyungsoo did that for her.

“Fine by us if you want to be left behind!”

Jinsu jumped at the same time that the butterfly took flight again, and looked round.  The three boys had stopped at the edge of the clearing in the shadow of the trees, Kyungsoo noticeably shorter than the other two, but somehow managing to look much more dignified than the pair of them put together in his two-toned brown hanbok.  Maybe it was because Sehun was fiddling absently with his very anachronistic leather bracelets as he looked around him and Jongin looked like he was trying to tuck his hands into a pair of trouser pockets that weren’t there.

For a moment, Jinsu hesitated, but she figured that if they genuinely intended to desert her, Kyungsoo wouldn’t have said anything.  It surprised her, but the reason why they weren’t too averse to having her in their group became apparent when she drew level with them and Jongin reached for the sack she had slung over her shoulder.

He looked inside before Jinsu could grab it back.

“I thought Jino was kidding,” he said, taken aback.  “She does have proper currency.  Look.”

Jinsu’s eyebrow twitched as he dipped a hand in and passed a couple of coins to Sehun and Kyungsoo each.

“Hey, don’t do that here,” Kyungsoo murmured.  “If they see us with money, they’ll go mental and everybody will want some.”

“Give them back,” Jinsu said wearily as the boys drifted further into the trees.  “They’re mine.”

Jongin’s gaze dropped pointedly to her broken fingers.  “I’ll carry.”

Kyungsoo gave his coins back and plucked Sehun’s out of his hands, popping them back into the sack.

“How much money did you bring with you?” he asked.  “Is there enough for us to buy things for ourselves to take back too, or are we only allowed to purchase for the museums?”

Jinsu sighed and didn’t reply, walking past them.  The last thing she wanted was to become the bank for everybody who wanted a souvenir from Balhae.

“That’s a no, then,” Kyungsoo concluded from behind her.  “Pity.”

“Where did you get the coins from?” Jongin asked, jogging a couple of steps to catch up with her.  “Are they a museum hoard or forgeries or what?”

“I don’t know,” Jinsu said tiredly.  “My dad gave them to me on behalf of the national archaeological and historical associations.  It’s not technically my money to spend.”

Jongin turned over a coin he still had in his hand, looking at it thoughtfully.  “I wonder how much this is worth.  Hey, Kyungsoo, you do history – how much is this worth in modern money?  How much rice could I buy with this here?”

“You’re off your head if you think I pay attention in numismatics,” Kyungsoo said dryly, causing Sehun to let out an amused snort.  Jinsu fought the temptation to turn around to see if he was smiling, aware that her cheeks were colouring.  Jongin immediately turned back to Jinsu.

“Do you know?” he asked.

“No,” Jinsu replied, her voice coming out a lot more snappish than she’d intended.  Jongin looked taken aback, his brown eyes large with surprise.

“Whoa.  Chill,” he muttered, edging away from her.

They lapsed into silence for another few minutes, surrounded by birdsong and with the tread of their feet crunching against the lush green grass.  Kyungsoo was now leading the way, and not too long after, they found themselves on a dirt track wide enough to suggest it was a main route to somewhere.  Close by, a couple of trees appeared to have been cut back so that they didn’t infringe on the passage between the trees.  Sehun went over to study the branch stumps, the lowest of which was about the height of his chin.

“This track must be used for horseback travel and litters,” he mused, his long, slim fingers caressing the tree bark.  “That or history has lied to us and our ancestors were giants.”

Kyungsoo squinted both ways down the track.  “That means civilisation, but which way?”

“We should have asked Minseok for a map,” Jongin said, drifting a little downhill along the path to the right.  The others followed him.  “Not like Naver maps is going to work here.  Satellites don’t exist yet.”

“I know we’re supposed to be near Mount Baekdu,” Sehun said, reluctant to leave the tree he’d been .  “According to the map, didn’t we land in the mountain range?  Actually, if we’re close enough, it might be nice to hike up one day to see the Heaven Lake—”

“That doesn’t exist yet,” Kyungsoo and Jinsu pointed out simultaneously.  Jinsu looked at Kyungsoo nervously, but he barely batted an eyelid about it.

“It’s another one hundred and eleven years before the eruption that blew the top of the crater off,” Kyungsoo explained as though Jinsu had never spoken, and also as though Sehun had left part of his brain at home.  “And it’s also probably not a good idea to go sauntering up an active volcano.”

“I was planning to walk up it rather than saunter, but if you insist.”  Sehun shrugged, unfazed by Kyungsoo’s attitude.

“We should have brought a national flag to leave at the top for future generations,” Jongin mused.

“Grandfather clauses,” Kyungsoo said immediately.  “No.”

“I was kidding.”  Jongin pouted and slung the sack over his other shoulder.  “Wait.  That’s the millennial eruption, right?  Isn’t the skyline of Mount Baekdu going to be completely different?  I thought