♥ PROLOGUE ;

 Branches whipped her face as she ran and her cheeks stung where it had been lashed. She pushed forward, warm blood on her lips, her heart thudding faster in her chest. Above her, the night clouds slid uneasily over the pale moon. Beyond her, she heard the crunch of boots on snow and glimpsed the dark figure winding through the dense trees.

She was so close she could cry, but he slipped quickly out of sight. She should have called out. But the unknown kept her silent.

As she reached the clearing, a spot she knew well at the base of the hill. She heard the sound of a truck groaning slightly along the mountain road. She came to a halt and then stood, panting, to see nothing but the black curving tarmac and the half moon in the sky.

Whoever he was, he had disappeared.

Suddenly the energy, the force that had kept her running through the woods evaporated. She stood, freezing and defeated, and tilted her head back to look up at the sky. Midnight blue. No clouds now. Just a bitter, unforgiving night.

A sound behind her -- the snap of a twig -- made her jerk. But as she turned to look, something heavy gripped her shoulder and she stopped. Her face was still but her eyes darted down to see long pale fingers resting on her collarbone.

"Don't move," someone whispered. "And don't be afraid."

The owner of the hand gently turned her to look at him. Large eyes, thick lips, short brown hair. She knew him. She knew this boy.

But they had never met.

"Hyomin," said the boy, his hand, surprisingly warm, holding her's. "Please, i would never hurt you."

"Who are you?" As she spoke her breath clouded in the cold. "What am i doing here?" She had no recollection of why she had come into these woods.

"You followed me. You have been dreaming about me for a long time and now you know i'm real ... Well," he gave a dry laugh, "almost real."

"Please," she said weakly, as though she had not been in pursuit of him. "Just let me go home."

"Hyomin, you are home." He let go of her hand and put both of his around her face, drawing it closer to him.

Dark brown eyes, and skin like a child's, but the bones in his cheeks belonged to a man. His face was gentle, though in his pupils there was something alert and wild. Hyomin was so cold she couldn't move, except for her hands shaking and her heart thumping.

Watching her confusion, he her cheeks with his fingertips, and her head lolled, soothed all of a sudden. Then gradually she felt aware of the rest of her body, her legs, her hips.

"This is where your story begins," he whispered. "With me, in this place."

And as she listened she knew that here, in this moment, it was true.

Today was her sixteenth birthday, and her story had begun.