Chapter 21

Hwayoung supposed that she ought to get used to the walking, given that it was what they spent most of their time doing. She would’ve preferred horseback, especially when Colliss was such a distance away, but they hadn’t stumbled across any towns and she doubted that any of them had the money to purchase horses. Stealing was an option, but the people out here barely had anything and it felt wrong to steal from them when they already owned so little.

No one complained about the walking, though, so they trudged on in silence for most of the time. The grasslands were seemingly endless, spreading out everywhere, a sea of endless green-gold that never seemed to end. There was something about it and the way they rippled like water when they wind came that made silence a lot harder to break, and while she had a lot of things she wanted to ask Chanyeol (some of which she wasn’t sure he would answer), she kept silent. It was as if everyone carried the same sentiment, because besides Baekhyun’s quiet words to Soyi, no one else spoke.

The abandoned farmhouse turned out to be a gift, because they never quite stumbled across anything similar. The next four nights were spent in fitful shifts that were tinged by distrust (namely of Chanyeol) and paranoia of the crown prince’s army, and they slept awfully exposed in the fields with whatever shelter they could find. By the fifth day, with supplies running low and all of them too exhausted to go on any further, they managed to stumble across a small village.

According to Chanyeol, they were a couple more days from Colliss. He’d given a brief run down, explanation about why he thought going to where the general was heading was a good idea: it was where the resistance was gathered, and they could travel much faster than a whole army. The general wasn’t only planning to purge to fortress city of the Marked resistance; he was planning to build a permanent base there for the crown prince, another base for him to continue his terrorization of the Marked. So that more of the land was covered. It was two birds with one stone.

“They’re already building the new fortress,” Chanyeol said absentmindedly, “at least, that’s what I heard.”

“It’s what you heard,” Hwayoung had echoed drily. “How helpful.”

Chanyeol ignored her comment. “I’ve also heard the resistance was huge,” he said, sarcasm dripping off every word. “At any rate, they could be a huge asset. But they need to be warned.”

It was how they ended up heading for the city with nothing but Chanyeol’s I thinks, and Hwayoung wasn’t sure if it were a more of a miracle that everyone had gone without more of a protest or she was going period.

The village, it turned out, was even smaller than the last. There were a cluster of houses, all gathered to form a tight-knit community, and there seemed to be a couple farms—some animal, some with crops—but all more or less struggling to keep up. Poverty seemed to touch the Second Sector, but here in the countryside, the devastation the crown prince had caused with the purge of the Marked was even more obvious. He hadn’t just killed countless innocents; he had also condemned much more people in doing so, leaving them to struggle with the barely-functional pieces he left them with.

“We won’t find anything here,” Chanyeol said as they approached the village.

Hwayoung shot him a look. “We’ll find food. And if we’re lucky, shelter.”

“If we’re unlucky, someone will try to kill us—”

“Not us,” Hwayoung corrected. “The commoners hate the crown prince for what he’s done. There are barely any families who haven’t been affected by the blood fever, and then by the crown prince’s purge. Most have lost someone, if not many.”

“And what then? They’ll know you?”

Hwayoung shrugged, then began the walk down to the village. “More than they’ll know you.”

Chanyeol didn’t say anything in response to that, and she had to do her best not to show the satisfaction that came with it.

***

The village was even smaller when they walked into it, The streets weren’t made of cobble or even gravel, but flattened grass that had turned into dirt because of the many times people had walked on it. A woman hung clothes on a clothesline outside her door, watching them with wide eyes as they passed. Hwayoung tried to ignore, but in her peripheral vision, she could see Kyungsoo, glancing back like the sight was foreign. It probably was to him, given he hadn’t left the palace for all his life. In the midst of all of them, Soyi with her black eyes and Baekhyun’s white hair and Chanyeol’s dark red, Kyungsoo stood out the least: his marks were hidden under his sleeves and his cloaks, though Hwayoung had a feeling that all the turned heads and lingering gazes were on him because despite everything, the people recognized him. And despite the small village, whispers seemed to spread like wildfire.

She was beginning to think that perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea after all when they approached a small market. It was humble compared to what she was used to seeing in the cities, but there was a variety of things along with several vendors: fruit, bread, smoked meat, and in one stall, flasks for water. Her own was barely holding together from the amount of usage, and a new one seemed to be a good idea.

She had a handful of coins in her bag, the remnants of what she had stolen from the nobleman back in the second sector. She offered a piece of silver for some bread, two for all the fruit they could afford to carry without being weighed down, two more for smoked meat, and then a gold for a couple of flasks. They took the money with wide eyes as if they had never seen the currency of the capital, but knowing the value all the same.

The last woman handed her the flasks, but before Hwayoung could turn away, she clasped her free hand in her own. “You’re Windwalker,” she said, and Hwayoung found herself freezing before she could regain her composure. Even then, she wasn’t sure if she contained her surprise. She had told Chanyeol she’d be recognized, but it had been half of a bluff, just to provoke him. Kyungsoo was one thing—his face and status had been the gossip of everywhere when it first started—but she hadn’t expected for anyone else, especially in such an obscure place, to know her.

“I am,” she finally said.

“Thank you,” she breathed, then let go of Hwayoung’s hand. “Good luck.”

She returned to where the rest of them were waiting for her, and for some reason, Hwayoung was more shaken than she should’ve and really, would’ve been, by the entire encounter to say another thing. When Kyungsoo asked if there was any place to stay inside the village, she shook her head and told him it would be best to leave.

That night, a couple miles away, the words still echoed. Good luck, she had said. Thank you.

Thank you, Hwayoung repeated to herself in her head. She had a good idea of what the woman was thanking her for, but she had an even better idea that whatever it was, it was a false notion. She fought against the crown prince and the noblemen that had enforced his ridiculous laws not for these people. It made her angry, seeing what he had reduced them to, but it wasn’t that anger that had fueled her on. It had never been. Since the beginning, since she started, it had been her parents, and even more, it had been Sehun. She had vowed to kill Kyungsoo’s brother not to end the suffering of these people and to fix the unfairness, but to satisfy the anger that had never died, her unfairness, not theirs, of being robbed her brother, who had done nothing wrong. And she didn’t deserve that thanks—it wasn’t hers to take. Maybe Kyungsoo deserved it. Soyi. Baekhyun. Perhaps even Chanyeol. But she didn’t.

It wasn’t anything Hwayoung had ever felt guilty for, but today, she did. The woman looked at her like she could do something, could change something (or everything), but Hwayoung couldn’t, and she hadn’t truly tried either. Not in the way she wanted her to change.

If Kyungsoo noticed something was off with her, he didn’t say it. She was pretty sure Baekhyun and Soyi didn’t notice, but as they crossed a small stream, it was Chanyeol who look around at her. “Why the long face?” he asked.

Hwayoung did a double take. What?

“You’re glaring at everything like it’s personally wronged you, and it’s after we left the village. What happened?”

For a brief moment, she actually contemplated telling Chanyeol what happened, but then thought better of it, nearly laughing instead. Park Chanyeol wasn’t in the business of hearing sob stories, and she had a feeling that it wasn’t something she could entrust him with.