Up here, it’s lonely.

Everyone is training — for one thing, one mission.

It’s always the mission.

But when I saw you and your two black bows,

Maybe there’s more to the world than mission.

☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯

Jennie, Jennie, Jennie.

Every breeze smells of her. When it kisses Jisoo’s skin and caresses her hair, Jisoo likes to think that it’s Jennie’s touch. Jennie must be somewhere in the forest; she must be. The notion brings excitement every day on Jisoo’s routine to find the girl: listening intently to the sounds of the wind, pushing past the huge shrubbery to the round clearing, hoping to see someone meditating.

It’s always empty, yet Jisoo waits at the spot.

Waiting and waiting.

More waiting.

It’s been a while since Jisoo has last seen her.

Sometimes the sunlight tricks her. A glint of blonde and black hair is a swaying flower; white flashes are birds dashing through the trees. Days pass and Jisoo’s hope dwindles with every empty field, with every gentle breeze. But she checks it again — just once more.

“Do you think Jennie will come back?” she sighs heavily, glancing at the tortoise perched on her shoulder.

Rabbit regards her with sympathy. He is very expressive for a tortoise.

With a laden heart, Jisoo bounds into the clearing from the shrubbery. The crater at the middle seems to be recovering to its natural, leveled state with patches of grass — only distinct because she has memorized where it is. She lays at the spot and faces the blue sky.

Her hand reaches out to it, the warm rays streaming through her slender fingers. Where are you? The question lingers unanswered, and wisps away like a dandelion in the wind. Maybe it’ll find its way to the Air.

“She’ll come back. I believe in her,” Jisoo says, more to herself than Rabbit.

The hope wavers, yet she clings on. Anyone would say it’s foolish, but can’t she dream?

The walk back is a lot slower. No bounce in her step, no humming with the birds. The flowers droop when she passes; the evergreen needles are brittle at her feet. Her chest caves as the grove thickens along with that pungent yet sweet smell deeper into the forest. The unsuccessful day comes to another disheartening close.

She ducks underneath a fallen trunk and arrives home.

In the heart of the forest resides the village of the Earth tribe. Nature is a wall, a camouflage, and a guardian of the inhabitants — collecting and parting as they see fit, transforming its geography in face of threat. If not an Earth, many do not get far into the forest, succumbing to madness instead in the ever-changing maze of evergreens with no end. According to the Chief, it is impossible to be infiltrated by outsiders.

Today the canopies have been parted to let in the evening’s golden sunshine. A valley of stone houses, hills, and dirt paths that dip and wind in-between the hearty evergreens, it bustles with Earths working to and fro: pushing wagons of goods, collecting buckets of water from wells, hanging laundry on twine strung between branches. Children caper around without a care in the world, their giggles resonating and smiles gleaming. A little boy almost crashes into Jisoo who jumps out of his way just in time, exclaiming a haste apology before dashing behind an outhouse in pursuit of his friend.

Opposite of each other at the center is the largest buildings: the Chief’s house — larger than the rest — and the library — largest of them all. Instead of thatch, their roofs are slate stone, a material more ideal to protect the ancient components of the archive. To the east are the campgrounds used for every night’s dinner and festivities. To the west resides the more eerie parts of the village: the dungeons and a domed clearing for judgment days.

There hasn’t been a judgment day in a long time, or as far as Jisoo can remember. Yet, the wooden platform sends a sense of foreboding and shivers down her spine.

“Were you out to try to find the Waddle Worm again?” Joohyun asks when Jisoo steps foot into their tiny hut near the campgrounds, holding a rag and presumably wiping the table.

Jisoo shrugs, head downcasted. “You can say that.”

Joohyun studies Jisoo as she drags herself to one of two bamboo mattresses on the floor and flops onto it. Rabbit bounces off, fortunately landing on the cushion of the cotton blanket. He shoots Jisoo a dirty look, the dirtiest a tortoise can muster. She peeks under her arm that covers her eyes. Joohyun is still looking at her.

Why is she still looking?

It isn’t a lie. Or is it? Can Joohyun read right through her? Jisoo would never lie to Joohyun. They can’t afford to lie to each other — they are all they had after all without their parents. But why is Jisoo dishonest about this particular subject? When Joohyun pointed out the small cuts on that day, Jisoo said she fell, and Joohyun simply scolded her for being clumsy. Nothing else was said of the matter because Joohyun trusts her.

The guilt grows tenfold. Nausea stirs deep in the pit of her stomach.

“I got you your favorite food,” Joohyun announces, chuckling when Jisoo’s head perks up.

“Fried chicken?” she exclaims, eyes sparkling from the mere thought.

“The one and only,” her sister grins. She removes a sheet of leaf from a wooden bowl on the table and brings it over.

“What’s the occasion?” Jisoo asks when the bowl is placed on her lap, darting for a thigh and sinking her teeth into the tender meat with a satisfying crunch. She pats her stomach and hums in delight, her knee bouncing slightly. The Earth tribe doesn’t eat meat often; the food is usually served at festivities.

“You look down lately. I wanted to cheer you up,” Joohyun says, ruffling her hair.

Jisoo’s smile falters, the pang that is momentarily forgotten back to tighten her chest. However, she masks it — or hopes to — by fixating on the chicken intently, wary of Joohyun’s lingering gaze that searches. It searches but finds nothing.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Make sure to thank Junmyeon too. It took him a lot to get that chicken, chased it all around the village,” Joohyun laughs and stands up from the stool.

“Junmyeon again?” Jisoo’s nose scrunches, the chicken suddenly sour. “I told you I don’t like him.”

Joohyun sighs, “Not this again.”

“He always acts weird around you. Do you see the way he looks at you? Yeri and I placed bets that —”

Joohyun shoves a drumstick into Jisoo’s mouth before she can finish her sentence. “He’s a good guy!” she says, red in the face. “Just give him a chance and you’ll see. Try to thank him at least.” She strides to the door. “I have an errand to run. Clean up when you’re done and I’ll see you at dinner.”

When the door clicks close, Jisoo’s tense shoulders deflate. She glances at Rabbit by her knee who gives her the cold shoulder. How stubborn. Sighing, she continues to eat the chicken, but not even the chicken can ease her aching heart.

☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯⚏☯

The fire crackles, the flames as high as the joyous spirits of the dinner. Flutes, drums, and vocals animate and possess the people dancing with great zest, their shadows long and flickering. Pots and pans cook food and soup over several campfires, the deliciousness wafting throughout the campground. The smoke slithers in a slow stream into the sky and almost touches the stars. Almost.

Jisoo sits at the log picnic table with Joohyun, Sooyoung, and Yeri. Infamous troublemakers the last two, always pulling pranks and stirring trouble wherever they go. Tall and short respectively — the perfect pair for mischief. They eat with Jisoo and Joohyun because, according to them, eating with them is much more fun than with their own families. Their manners would’ve been much worse at the dinner table if it wasn't for Joohyun who is the only person capable of taming their antics.

Sooyoung pokes Yeri’s side with her elbow and waves a red fruit tauntingly. “Wanna race to see who’ll finish an apple first?”

“You’re on,” Yeri grins, an ambitious spark in her eyes.

Before the two girls can begin chowing down on their apples, Joohyun slaps their foreheads from across the table, instigating groans of pain.

“Eat your food,” she chides, jabbing her chopsticks with kimchi residue at each of them. “I’ll kill you two before you both die from choking.”

Jisoo snorts into her bread when the girls pout and lower their heads in defeat. She’ll never know how her sister keeps reins on them. The rest of the dinner goes by peacefully, or as peacefully as it gets with their bickering.

The last of the smoke is engulfed by darkness. Everyone leaves to their abodes in high spirits. With a full stomach, Jisoo hums, skips, and twirls on the way home. Joohyun giggles as she trails from behind, hands behind her back and watching her dance wildly in amusement. Jisoo almost falls into a bush if not for Joohyun catching her by the arm.

“Remember that you have berry duty tomorrow morning,” Joohyun yawns, crashing into her bed after they changed into their cotton nightgowns. “Don’t be late again.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jisoo groans and covers her ears, already snuggled under her covers.

Joohyun chuckles and blows out the wick of the lamp. “Get a good night’s sleep.”

The mattress is comfortable, yet Jisoo is restless. She tosses and turns, squeezes her eyes shut, pulls her blanket over her head, and counts sheep. Two-hundred and five sheep, two-hundred and six sheep, two-hundred — with a frustrated sigh, she pries the blanket off and stares at the thatch ceiling. It must be the energy from the dinner.

But why is there that uncomfortable knot in her chest?

Save for her sister’s light snores, the night is quiet. Moonlight streams in from the opened window at the bedside, flushing the room in luminosity. The moon is exceptionally bright tonight; full and stark white against the dark blue, framed by the winking stars of the universe. Winds chimes jingle in the distance.

Wait, wind chimes?

A breeze picks up; gone in an instant, but only one second is needed to identify the familiarity. Jisoo sits up and freezes, anticipating another breeze just in case her mind has played tricks on her.

The night is still once again.

What does she expect? It is probably just a normal breeze and her hope has deceived her. But her gut tugs, so she crawls out from under her covers, her fingertip, and sticks it out the window.

It’s there. It’s there! Very slight, very faint, but something cold pushes against the wetness, enticing a tingling sensation. Her instincts have never been wrong, or so she thinks. It must be her. It must be Jennie!

Jisoo eyes the sleeping Joohyun and falters. Shall she go check it out? Her heart already palpitates from the mere possibility, no matter how slight. Her hand waves in front of the older girl’s eyes and the lack of reaction confirm her deep slumber. It won’t hurt to follow the wind, right? It won’t hurt to make sure; she has always been curious after all. It’ll be an adventure! Gingerly, Jisoo tip-toes over Joohyun and crosses the room.

Her hand hovers over the door, but her steps retrograde to the glass tank on the shelf beside it. A tiny bit of a green shell pokes out from within the rock house. Rabbit won’t snitch on her, but there’s always the risk; he’s quite petty for a tortoise. He is asleep from the looks of it. Joohyun mumbles something and fear seizes Jisoo immobile, but the girl merely turns on her side and continues snoring.

Once the household is silent, Jisoo steps out into the night.

The air is cool and carries the chirps of crickets. The breeze is more distinct once outside. It picks up the ends of her hair and nightgown, so faint it can be overlooked if not sought. Jisoo plucks a blade of grass and holds it high between her thumb and forefinger. It wavers just enough to tell the direction of the wind.

So with the singular grass blade as a compass, Jisoo follows the wind.

The path is not without obstacles. To avoid the few scouts on their nightly duty, she ducks behind structures. Sometimes the grass becomes stiff, and it takes a moment for it to quiver again. Eventually, her steps cease upon the edge of the village and the entrance to the forest.

She hesitates.

Shall she go? Jisoo’s eyebrows furrow as fears and doubts surge through her mind. What if she gets in trouble? What if she gets kidnapped? What if she dies? She has never sneaked out before. Walking around this late is already scary, much less walking through the forest.

The breeze strengthens and pushes her shoulders, urgent as if it senses her hesitation. The shrubbery rustles. In the midst of all the possible consequences, there remains that flicker of hope.

This wind must be Jennie. There’s no doubt about it.

Okay, you can do this, Jisoo internally cheers herself on and takes a deep breath. She scans the area once more and sees no scout. Squaring her shoulders, she delves into the woods.

The night twists the forest into foreign terrain. How can this be the same forest Jisoo capers through in the daytime? The dirt is stiff and cold. On the forest floor are shards of moonlight, jagged webs formed by the shadows of branches. A faint fog paints the distance blue. Eerie, the way there are neither chirps nor whispers to break the silence. Nature’s pulse is sedated. The forest sleeps.

Jisoo goes rigid from the off-putting atmosphere, but the wind comes back and she breathes again. She raises the grass blade and focuses on the tip. Her pace quickens, the hope fuel to the flame and the uncanny surroundings become such a blur that she barely dodges a low branch that was bound to hit her forehead. The wind heightens the further away from the village, as does the courage.

Through copse, she breaks into a clearing.

It smells of salt.

She blinks rapidly, eyes adapting from the shrouded woods to the dazzling moon above the sea’s horizon. Waves crash below, so thunderous the ground shakes from the mere sound. Sat with legs dangling over the cliff’s edge, a girl — with black and blonde hair that tumbles just above the collar of her tunic — watches the sea. Her feet sway back and forth in a sedated rhythm, placid compared to the movement of the sea.

“Jennie?” Jisoo whispers in disbelief. She rubs her eyes and sees again.

Silky hair throws itself over the Air’s shoulder when she whips her head around and flashes a grin. Her inherent red streaks are no longer menacing, reduced to a blush that accentuates her complexion and leaves Jisoo breathless. “Dirt girl! I’m glad you found your way here. I was getting worried.”

The nickname doesn’t faze her through the astonishment. As Jisoo inches closer, her eyes never break their gaze as if Jennie will disappear if they look away for one second. She sits on the grass beside Jennie, legs tucked underneath her, heart palpitating and palms clammy. It is really her.

“You might eat a fly,” Jennie chuckles, lifting Jisoo’s chin with one finger to close her gaping mouth.

“I was worried that…”

That you forgot about me.

Jisoo doesn’t finish her sentence, but from her dejected expression, it must’ve been enough to send the message across because Jennie’s smile falters.

“Never that.” She clicks her tongue and wiggles her finger. “It’s strange, really.” Her eyes avert to the horizon. “The first time I met you, I couldn’t forget about you. Tell me it’s strange.”

“It’s not strange.”

Jennie raises one eyebrow. “Really?”

“Well,” Jisoo rubs the back of her neck that heats from the confession, “it was the same for me too. It can’t be strange if it happened to both of us. That means it’s normal!”

The corners of Jennie’s lips curl up. “Maybe it’s because you didn’t kill me on sight. My mentor tells me other tribes have no remorse, that they’d kill anyone that isn’t one of theirs. Maybe it’s because we’re both young; I mean, how can children possibly kill —” She pauses and shakes her head. “Anyway, you diverted my expectations. I didn’t know how to see you again. My tribe is strict, so I worried that I’ll never have the chance to. I thought a lot about how to get to you.” She mumbles the last part.

The doubt from the past days dissolves. Jisoo’s heart lightens tenfold.

“Me too,” Jisoo says. “My sister says to stay away from other tribes, but she also says there’s good in every person. Frankly, I don’t understand her. How can you say that if you think every other tribe is bad?” She slaps her hand over before she digresses further. What if Jennie thinks she’s weird for bad-mouthing her sister? She’s already looking bewildered. “But, if I may ask, how did you come to the forest that day? I checked your meditating spot every day.”

“You have?” Jennie asks, taken aback. Jisoo nods. “That was for a test. That day was the last day I could go work on channeling my energy for our seasonal evaluation. Although my mentor warned me of my own discretion, I went because I wanted to. As much as the Air tribe prides themselves on the high peaks of their mountains, there’s no other place that feels nicer than in the middle of nature.”

Jisoo wipes her forehead with the back of her hand comically. “Whew! I’m glad I stumbled upon you then.”

Jennie giggles. It’s tiny and bashful, yet compelling enough to infect Jisoo with giggles as well.

“I’m glad too,” she says with a toothless smile that fluffs her cheeks.

There’s a moment of silence. Jisoo doesn’t like silence — it unnerves her — but this silence is different; it’s comfortable. Maybe it’s because the crashing tides break the silence every now and then. Maybe it’s because there’s room for conversation that doesn’t need to be filled. Talking is an alternative when studying the storm gray in the brown hue of Jennie’s hooded eyes is much more interesting. She couldn’t behold all of their essences before, but now with all the time in the world, they are beautiful.

“I come here every full moon,” Jennie continues, gaze breaking away from Jisoo back toward the sea. The girl can’t seem to maintain eye contact, and it’s both disappointing and amusing — disappointing in that Jisoo can no longer watch her eyes, amusing in that it is very much contrary to the initial cockiness. “For some reason, the guards are the laziest on nights of the full moon. Perhaps they think that no one would dare to do anything suspicious on the brightest night. Of course, I don’t tell the masters that. Easier for me to sneak out.” She turns to Jisoo. “Tell me, how did you know to come here?”

“I felt your wind,” Jisoo answers uncertainly. “I thought that was what you meant to do.”

“I did. I was just making sure it worked,” she says, pleased with herself.

“How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“The wind. Because — well —” Jisoo taps her chin, “I live in the middle of the forest. There are these thick trees everywhere, and it’s kind of impossible for something from the outside to come in without our permission.”

“I wonder as well.” Jennie tilts her head. “I suppose it was a cast of chance and hope. I thought of you and let the wind find you. Maybe your defense isn’t as excellent as you think,” she jests lightheartedly.

“Ah! But that’s what the adults say,” Jisoo says sheepishly, suddenly embarrassed.

Jennie laughs. The intention is probably to ease Jisoo’s embarrassment, but it only burns it deeper into her face. “So I guess the question I have is… is it okay to see you on nights like these? Nights of the full moon? I’ll call you again if you’d like, just to let you know I’m here, although I can’t say for certain that it works every time.”

She shan’t say more; the proposal is absolutely marvelous.

“I like that,” Jisoo chirps, stiffening to contain the giddiness from the thought of seeing Jennie again. “At this spot?”

“Yes. Isn’t the ocean beautiful?”

Jisoo follows Jennie’s eyes to the infinite. Moonlight’s reflection is alone and distorts in the wavering abyss that stretches far and wide. Left and right, the rugged coastline of massive ridges catch the tides in its rocks, spraying froth that twinkles like diamonds. Land extends left and right, yet there’s nothing ahead. Is this the end of the world? It can’t be. Jisoo squints to see through the hazy skyline, but the only thing discerned is endless black.

She feels small on this cliff.

“I wonder how it is to be a Water member,” Jennie muses. “The mountains get boring.”

“Isn’t it amazing up there?” Jisoo asks. “You can see everything.”

“Yes, but seeing and experiencing are very different things.” Jennie delicately brushes the grass between them that parts from her touch. “Here, I can feel the moist grass and soft dirt. Here, I can feel and smell the ocean. Up there, I can see all of these, but I can never experience them. Everything down here is paintings from the mountains — beautiful, and I can only admire.”

Wist glints in the girl’s eyes. The sight tugs at Jisoo’s heartstrings and evokes an obligation to comfort the latter, but Jisoo doesn’t know what to do. Emotionally inept, Sooyoung would tease.

“Also, it’s very dry.” Jennie clicks her tongue in distaste. “Down here is crisp and fresh, a lot better for my skin and hair.”

So Jisoo does what she knows best — lighten the mood.

“I can help you,” Jisoo smiles toothlessly. “I’ll show you everything I know. I’ll be a good friend.”

When the breeze blows, Jennie mirrors her smile. And in this instance, maybe it isn’t so bad sitting at the end of the world with the unknown right in front of them. No — that's an understatement; venturing into the infinite with Jennie sounds utterly exhilarating.

“Thank you, Jisoo,” Jennie says. “I’ll be a good friend too.”