There were three traps, he said, laid out in hopes to catch unsuspecting small game, spread apart to increase the chances of snagging one; which is why I said it was smarter to separate and collect them before meeting back to that same spot. Jiyong didn’t look comfortable letting me go off on my own, but I managed to persuade him.  It was probably due more to the fact of me turning a tad bit defensive. I didn’t like at all the feeling of uselessness – something I guessed was just part of me before I forgot who I am, or was.

He said all I had to do was follow the trail and it would lead me to one of his traps. It wasn’t that hard of a job. It was simple enough. It was something a child could do. I’m sure I could survive.

I just wasn’t counting on the area to feel very unnatural.

The fog had thickened the more inwards I pushed into the thicket. I never understood how fogs came to be and I don’t think I ever had the literary knowledge to know such facts. Still, it amazes me that something that feels so cool and wet is not tangible like the water that streams through the river bed. Is it water? Is it air? Is it a combination of both? Whatever it is, it’s chilly and blinding and the coat does little to fight off the cold biting into my exposed skin.

The more I traversed the winding path the more I felt suffocated. Maybe it’s because the trees had started to draw closer together or maybe it’s the way the bushes became thicker and more grouped together? It’s making my stomach twist into knots and my thoughts turning into dark territories.

What if something large and wild pops out before me? What if I don't pay close enough attention and get caught up in the trap instead? What if something creeps up from behind and drag me away?

It takes a great effort to keep my eyes on the trail, following the thin dirt path as I took deep calming breaths.

In and out.

One step then another.

I pull at the jacket tighter around me, trying to make myself smaller, conserve as much warmth as I can. The leaves, bushes, and branches crowd around and I’m finding it harder to breathe with the way my chest feels like its being crushed.

I’m mentally cursing Jiyong for choosing such a place to set a trap, but my common sense quickly argues that where it’s harder for people to get to the more bountiful the prey. It is the prey's instinct to flee and hide, is it not?

I push away branch after branch, scratching the back of my hands and leaving slightly raised, pinkish welts on my skin. I am far too cold to fully feel the sting so I take advantage of it and press forward at a quicker pace. The faster I find the trap, the faster I can get out of this place.

As if some sort of divine power overheard my pessimistic thoughts I stumble out to a clearing.

Literally.

I had not prepared myself for getting through the woods so quickly that when I pushed past a thick selection of brush I had not expected the sudden loss of resistance. I certainly did not foresee the puddle at the other end so when my boots inevitably dipped into the muddy water the soles into the mud and I pitched forward. With nothing to brace against well…

My landing was nothing graceful. I had grazed my palms from slipping on the mixture of wet grass, sharp pebbles, and slimy, wet earth. My chin took damage, fortunately not the full brunt of it, teeth clacking together so hard I’m in an odd place of being in pain and a bit of a daze. I must have seethed on my back for a good amount because I started to feel the water seeping through the cloth that protected me and rapidly cooled my skin. Just what I needed.

I must be such a pitiful sight. I roll over to one side, thrashing my legs about to let out a little yell of frustration. Why must I be such a clumsy being?

“Child, if you don’t stop throwing a fit I will give you a reason to throw a proper one.”

“Ah, !” The unexpected reprimand has me scrambling onto my knees, the hairs on my arms standing on end. With my head still reeling I wobble on my feet, hands out to try to keep some semblance of balance. “Who- who? !” I could definitely taste blood, but that didn't feel so important now as I stared wide-eyed at the reprimanding look I was receiving from the old woman standing in the middle of her field. She was looking at me like I was some reckless child that needed a good beating, arms crossed over her chest and her brows pinched in the middle, nostrils flaring.

But all I could think of was, who, in their right mind, would have a field in the middle of a forest?

“Another foul language out of your mouth and you’ll regret it.” She growls, chucking something towards me. My hands shot out, instinctively catching the funny shaped item. It falls through in between my clumsy hands and I scramble to pick it up.

It was a piece of potato. I turn it over my hand, looking between it and the old lady. It seemed like just an ordinary potato. I catch myself thinking this and wonder exactly what was I expecting? Was the potato supposed to be something more important? “Um…”

“Well, don’t just kneel there like an idiot. Make yourself useful!” She spat, gathering her dress and hiking them up so she could walk over her crops. I'm sure it's a funny sight, another time it probably would have me in stitches, but my mind was too busy trying to piece everything together and honestly I didn't feel like in a cherry mood.

“I-I don’t..” I watch her bend over, carefully examining the product of one of the rows of greens stalks that grew lavishly in her garden.

“Cat got your tongue?” She snaps, her piercing blue eyes appraising me. “Well, I didn’t ask you to speak. I don’t need you to speak. I need you to get your hands working, or are you just going to watch an old lady toil in the cold. Children these days; they have no sense of initiative at all.” She grumbles the last part to herself, but she makes no effort to hide her disdain. Not that I care. I didn’t know the woman. Or did I?

I put down the potato, scratching my head at the absurdity of it all. Seriously, what bat would think it was a good idea to have a crop field in the middle of the forest? And why would she think I'd come there to help her?

“I don’t... I didn’t come here to work for you. I'm just... eh, looking for traps. You wouldn’t happen to-”

“Stop flapping your gob and start pulling.” She snaps again. I shiver at the piercing look she was giving me. For an old bat, there was something about her aura that sent prickles down my spine. Maybe I was a coward because I didn’t waste another second pulling my boots free from the mud and hobble over to the field.

It was a relatively large vegetable garden she had. Mind you, it was nothing like the wide field of grain or wheat one would often see taking up acres of land. No, this was little in comparison, insignificant really. It looked larger than what one would typically make for their own private consumption. Perhaps she sells them. The heads of cabbages do have a nice shade of yellowish-green and look about as large as my head. In fact, the garden looked well taken care of. So well, I bet it would be sought after and fetch quite a price.

I take a cursory check of my surrounding, trying to pinpoint any other signs of life aside from the two of us. I can hardly believe this old crone can keep up with the labour required to maintain all these crops by herself. To water them all, rid it of pests, and whatever else one needs to do to keep up a vegetable patch- much less harvest them all.

“Don’t you have apprentices? Or labourers?”

“And still your gab yaps!” she throws another potato my way. I manage to catch it this time, just fumbling it a bit. I drop the two in the wicker basket close by. “Take that fork over there and come here.”

I follow the direction of her pointing, stupidly scanning the area when I'm greeted with the end of the patch and the extension of the green clearing. The fork itself was hidden in the hay scattered on the ground, the wooden handle partially buried in the dry soil. A few steps to the left and I probably would have had the handle slap me between my legs.

“Hurry it up!” She snaps, jolting me to action.

“Yes, ma'am!” Picking it up I hobble over to her side, just managing to not to trip on the heavy tool dragging beside my legs. I didn’t know why I was expecting to be able to pick it up easily. It seemed to be a familiar weight. I can’t put my finger as to why, and maybe fatigue was beginning to creep up to me as it seems to grow heavier in my hands.

As soon as I get to her side she silently stood back, nodding her head towards the area she had just plucked a wilting sprout out of. I look at the ground, back at her expectant face, then back at the crumbly soil.

“Well,” she snaps, her eyes darting to the ground as if it held all the answers that I was just too stupid to understand. “are you just going to stand there all day?”

“Um... I don’t- I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“You have the fork in your hand, what do you expect I want you to do?”

“Uh...” I direct my eyes to the scattering of hay pushed towards the other end. Was I supposed to rake it back over the exposed ground? It was ridiculous, but isn’t that what forks do? Rake things into position.

“Unbelievable! She’s a fool!” the crone yells out behind me as I rake the hay over the spot. I stop, my own frustration building up. What does she want me to do? I wasn’t a farmhand. I don’t know anything about tending to crops. I don’t even remember what I used to do before waking up in this nightmare.

I feel a couple of hard taps against the side of my head and I looked confusedly, and slightly irritated, at the woman. Her face was pinched in frustration, or maybe that’s just how she normally looked- it certainly was the only expression I've seen her wear. She motions angrily towards the ground. “You dig into the soil. Is that so hard to do?”

“You could have told me that before,” I mutter under my breath. She fixes me a cold glare. I lower my gaze, swallowing the tightness in my throat. I was definitely a coward, no question.

I settle my feet apart, took a long inhale, and lift the fork up ready to plunge it into the soil when I get a hard slap upside the back of my head.

“You're going to destroy the crop! Dig farther away.” I sigh but reposition a little father from where I originally was. When I lift the fork sideways the dirt gave out easily, and with it funny shaped, yellow nuggets came up. Potatoes are as large, if not larger, than my fists, covered in dry, loose dirt.

Now if actual gold nuggets only came up like this, I'd be set for life.

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it.” Her gnarly hand rest on my shoulder, giving a little pat of sorts, but the weight ignites a hazy memory that was too quick to slip out of my grasp. I turn to her, watching her as she deftly picks out the tuber from the soil, tossing them into the basket.

I was hoping I would catch something that might ignite a stronger reaction, bring back any segment of memory, no matter how distorted it might be. That pinch in my chest and the warming sensation flowing through me, albeit too quickly for my liking, was my subconsciousness trying to crawl to the surface. I was sure of that.

“Who are you?” I get another potato chucked towards me, the hard tuber hitting the side of my thigh with a force I wasn’t expecting would come from a frail-looking woman like her. “Ow!”

“Is that a way to treat your elders? Kids these days, absolutely no manners. What do they teach you in that tutoring place? Well, stop ogling at me like a wounded dog. The quicker you get your hands moving the faster we’ll finish.”

Rubbing at my thigh, I continue to frown as I took a good scan of the garden. Not everything looked like they were entirely ripe or even close enough for picking, but again, what do I know. Picking up the rake, I drag it further back, moving to the next sprout of potato, repeating what I had just done.

I diligently dig out a line of the potatoes, carrots, and radishes, harvest a few pumpkins and filled a basket of green beans. The labour was tiring and I find the previous coolness of the day chased away by the burn of the fatigue slowly taking over my body.

By the time the woman was satisfied by the number of beans I’ve gathered, I had already discarded the jacket, the sweat on my back making the shirt stick to my skin. The sky overhead didn’t look like it had changed from the thickness of the grey clouds, still blocking any stream of sunlight from reaching the ground. At least the fog had dispersed some, giving us a wider view range; not that much has been revealed. It was just more trees as far as the eyes could see.

She allows me to rest under the shelter of her front porch, giving me a cup of cool water for my hard work and a small cloth around my neck to help dry out the sweat. Having to sit at the stairs leading up to the raised foot of her cabin provided great relief for the strain on my back and the pain of my calves and legs.

She sat at the old, rickety chair close by, her knobby hands working on some sort of knitwear, a basket full of balled up yarn at her feet. If I had seen her like this as opposed to the slave-driving old hag I’ve been subjected to I would have been fooled.

With her satiated, I take the chance to try and understand that little niggling at the back of my mind. There was something, something I don’t quite know that’s just there. It’s like grappling in a dark room, knowing there is something around but not knowing where or what it is until you get a proper hold of it. The more I try to understand the more frustrated I feel and the lesser I seem to be able to grasp it.

“Frown like that and you’ll likely have wrinkles at an earlier age.”

I turn to her, cocking a brow. Was it really her speaking? Or was I imagining it?

“I have a lot on my mind,” I say anyway, downing the rest of my drink and place the mug along with the cloth to the side. I needed to get going. I still needed to find that trap and find my way back to Jiyong. He probably wasn’t going to be happy for my long disappearance. “I have to go. My... someone’s waiting for me.”

“Aye, there is.” She grunts. She raises her knitting up, aged eyes squinting as she inspects the long stretch of cloth she had spun together. “Always someone waiting, always watching. You have gotten yourself in a pickle. Now let's see which path you chose; and when you chose you better stick to it. Some choices can never be changed. It’s not like buying heads of cabbages in the city centre.”

I my head at her cryptic choice of words. “What?”

Her fingers pause in their movements, blue eyes rising to meet mine in a look that I didn’t like. It looked a lot like I was some dirty street rat starving along the side of the road begging for scraps. The filth that one would feel bad for as they pass them by, and they would thank whatever high being that gave them the security of a home before moving on as if nothing happened. I could feel a smidge of anger rise from within me but clamp my teeth over my tongue. Going off wouldn't do me any good. I better grab my things and leave now.

Just as I start putting on Jiyong's coat she says something that stops me in place. “You have a choice, child. Do you want to stay with the boy?”

I blink at her, my mouth suddenly running dry. How does she know I was with Jiyong? I haven’t mentioned anything to her since I came. Right?

I feel like the proper response to this is to run, but I couldn’t move my legs. They felt like they’ve taken root where I stand. I was too afraid to look down to check or to even just look away from this old bat in case she wields a knife or something.

“You live here, you could finally have a taste of a happy life.” She says, her blue eyes steady on me while her fingers continued working. The needles click as they hit each other, the sound progressively getting louder and louder until my entire focus is drawn to the action.

Tic- tic- tic- tic

“He is a nice boy. Could be the perfect husband for you, if you let him.”

My vision swirls, head spinning as my legs began to lose their strength. I put my hand up to my head hoping it could help steady me.

I feel the warmth on my face first before my eyes snap open.

The weight on my legs feels comfortable and familiar, as is the small arms clinging around my neck. I'm surrounded by the warmth of the hearth, the fire at the wood behind me, snapping that almost rhythmic sound. I can hear the lulling pitter-patter of the rain hitting the sin of the roof, but the cold air cannot reach me in my little reading chair. The smell of fresh bread brings me to an instantaneous calm and I pull the little body closer against me, gently running my fingers through the soft, short, dark locks. I take a deep inhale, feeling completely at ease in the little haven.

I glance down to the top of his little head, the baby boy that was half of me nestled against my chest as he snoozes softly. There was a healthy roundness to his flushed cheeks, a show of a lot of love and care to how at ease he is. I close my eyes, resuming the humming to a nameless melody that reminds me of peace and solitude.

“This can be yours if you chose him.” A disembodied voice whispers into my ears.

I open my eyes and all that warmth and comfort seem to instantaneously sap out of me. I'm back on my feet in the vegetable garden, the cool air wounding around me like a miserable cloak on a rainy night. There was still that lingering feeling of content, so tantalizingly sweet yet so teasingly distant.

It wasn’t real. Or was it? I have to ask myself whether that was my life before I forgot everything. The life I had before this heavy fog in my head obscured my memories. What about my family? Did I even have one?

My hands come up to grasp at my shirt, just over the fresh pain that was blooming from my chest. A clench. A twist. But oddly enough I don’t believe it was from slipping out of that fantasy-like haven I've just seen. Despite the questions shooting off in my head my gut just doesn’t believe the lie of a beautiful life, no matter how sweet it is.

“I... That’s not... it’s not real, right?” Jiyong looked and acted like he never knew me from before. He looked confused as to why I was where he found me. No husband would easily forget the wife and child who waits for his return.

I looked to the old woman, clenching my hands into fists against my chest, protecting whatever it was that my soul craved for. It feels like it was reaching out for an unknown source of comfort. There was someone for me out there. It may not be Jiyong, but there was someone for me. Someone who was waiting for me.

‘You shouldn’t make a lady wait.’

The words echo in my thoughts, driving the pain in my chest deeper and the anxiety in my mind spilling over.

My breath catches as a sharp pain explodes from my temples, spreading all throughout my head like wildfire. The pain radiates to my eyes, pushing and pulsing that I’m tempted to gauge them out. I squeeze them shut tightly, pressing the heel of my palms against them. It was too much to take. I feel like I'm being ripped apart from the inside out.

It burns. My muscles burn.

They hurt.

I can’t breathe.

Too much.

It’s too much!

And then, it all stops.

I wonder if this is what it’s like to knock on death’s doors. It would be a tremendous task to describe it in words that everyone could understand, but I can try.

It begins with the darkness. It was a darkness that doesn't feel like it has ever seen any kind of light. Then the silence, one so loud one's thoughts become insignificant and drowned out by the absence of sound. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, hence nothing to fear.

Then comes the feeling of one's self gradually pulling away from the body, starting from the light, weightless feeling like being one with the air around us. From my limbs coming inwards until I feel like I'm floating away from the material world. The ground seems like a foreign thought now, just the darkness swallowing everything in its path, pulling me into its endless abyss. It has a sort of calm feeling to it. Nothing like falling into a deep sleep, but not exactly unlike it. It feels somewhat like being trapped in a lifeless body, unable to call out for help or break out of it. The feeling of being alone is quick to settle like I have no other choice but to live in this endless isolation. It’s frightening and yet there’s a calm that takes over the mind and heart like there's a gentle lull like akin to laying on a boat floating on still waters.

A soft pulse, rythmic in its lub-dub-dub echoing in the surrounding darkness like a beacon trying to find some sort of communication from outside.

Then the feeling ebbs away like a vortex in the sea and I in a greedy breath in as pins and needles sticking all over my body begin to wake me up. I can feel wetness along my cheek and chin as I cough out the pain radiating from my chest and my bones. The wind seemed to have picked up some gust and I could just be hallucinating from what had just occurred but I can hear something like the crashing of water. And salt in the air so dense I can almost taste it.

Peeling my eyelids back suddenly becomes a monumental task but curiosity takes a firm hold of me. It takes some time for my sights to adjust as if it had been years since I last used them they take their time focusing. I see directly what’s before me first. Grass, patches of them everywhere, like they were struggling to populate the land.

In the distance, I can’t say for sure, but I see something. At the edge of a cliff, a lonely tree sways gently with the wind, ignorant of the droplets of the crashing waves.

No. Not a tree.

It’s too far, but I pull all my focus on that one spot.

A pale dress billowing with the wind with long, messy black hair whipping wildly around a petite frame that stood still against the onslaught of nature.

A name whispers into my ear.

“It is your choice, child.”

Darkness seeps into my vision before I could see a face and I try to blink them away. My efforts are fruitless as I’m pulled back into the dark void of nothingness.

I feel fingers gently lifting my chin and a warm breath blowing into my face.

When I open them again I’m met with eyes as clear blue as the cloudless sky. They were hypnotic like there was an invisible pull that drew me deeper. It was like the concerned gaze of a long-time friend. She looked at me like I was someone important. Like I was someone who mattered.

I’d never imagined seeing someone with a knotted forehead would bring upon me some sort of peace, but my heart feels calm, and in that calmness, the fog in my mind seem to disperse just a little bit. I find myself grinning despite everything that has happened as I pull back, gently taking the knobby hand into my own in a gentle yet firm grip.

Her lips pull up to a smile as she lifts two fingers with her free hand, nodding her head as if she was imparting some great knowledge onto me. “Everything comes in threes.”

I nod my head, understanding exactly what she means without her elaborating.

“Have you made your choice?”