She should be happy, Soojin supposed.

She’d hated life at the temple, hated living as a shrine maiden.  The head priestess had deemed it an honor when the old crone seemingly appeared out of nowhere on Soojin’s twelfth birthday, claiming a vision led her to the humble household.  To dedicate one’s life to the gods, to be educated by the gods to serve them—the child will surely bring peace and prosperity to the village, will surely garner reputation for her family.  Her parents agreed it was an honor as they tearfully bid her farewell.  She had after all been chosen, blessed, marked by the divine—what greater honor could there be?

Soojin snorted.  What use had she for honor when she was little more than a prisoner, a captive of her so-called destiny?

A decade she’d spent sealed within the walls of the temple, learning the scriptures and performing spiritual rites until she could recite from memory and execute in the pitch dark.  The only people she had the luxury of coming in contact with were the elders and the unfortunate souls who’d been ripped from the bosom of home as she had—it never occurred to her that anyone would subject themselves to such isolation voluntarily.  In time she was trained to read the heavenly signs, to interpret the dancing stars and the cracks carved into bones by the searing flame, but Soojin never believed in the predictions she saw and made a game of deciphering the most morbid futures she could imagine.

But now…now, she was free.

Recollections of the burning temple overwhelmed her, the heady scent of smoke, the prickling heat, the ear-splitting screams—Soojin shut her eyes tightly against it all and shook her head, as if the motion alone could rid her body and mind of the horror.  She was alive, and most importantly, she could start anew.  No more prayers, no more offerings, no more sacrifices.

She should be happy—no more walls kept her from the outside world, kept her from seeking what she’d lost, what she’d long since yearned for.

“You’re awake.”

Almost.

Her eyes flew open, her attention snapping to the source of the voice.  The man stepped into the tent, dropping the flap behind him, and walked towards her.  He seemed vaguely familiar—the one who’d apprehended her, perhaps.

“Release me!” Soojin demanded, wriggling against her binds.  She had to crane her neck to see his face, lying on her side as she was, but the awkward position mattered little.  Even as her body complained from discomfort and nerve-racking fear gripped her, she knew better than to show the stranger.  “Do you not understand the gravity of your actions?  Desecrating a house of worship and abducting one favored by the gods, a curse on your entire clan, a curse on you and all your descendants!”

He lifted a dark brow at her exclamation and smirked slightly, but did not respond.  Soojin watched apprehensively as the man turned his back to her and undid his riding cloak, leaving him in a tunic and loose pants.  Her sight landed on the curved blade of the knife strapped by his hip, the design on the hilt betraying its foreign origins.  Had war besieged the land?  She had heard nothing of the sort.  An invasion?  What happened to the village?  Plundered?  Pillaged?  What about the others of the temple, the others of the community?

Then again…what did she care?  Awful as it was, why should she care about people who gave her up, who forsook her wishes, who kept her from living?  Soojin sighed—she was bitter, not heartless.  The past was hardly relevant now.  As soon as she got out of here, her life would again be her own.  She simply had to convince this man that she’d bring on a plague if she had to.

She hadn’t realized she’d been thinking aloud until the man laughed.

“Do I amuse you?” Soojin snapped, feeling her cheeks grow hot unbidden, “Untie me this instant!”

“I’d actually like to see you invoke a plague,” her captor commented dismissively.  He leered at her as he advanced, giving her a glimpse of pointed canines before he dropped to a crouch before her and gripped her by the chin to examine her face curiously.  “The superstitions of you and your people, I’ll never comprehend.”

Soojin bristled, twisting away and spitting at the man’s feet.  While she may have hated the shrine she’d tended and all it stood for, she couldn’t help the indignation on behalf of her village.

He clicked his tongue, the previously neutral tone replaced with a harsher one when he spoke, “I treat you with civility, yet you insist on impudence?”

“You call this civility?” Soojin asked incredulously, thrashing for effect, “Do you think I’m so foolish that I would not recognize my own imprisonment?”

“You are my guest,” he corrected her, “And as a gesture of good faith, I will free you, provided you extend me the same courtesy and promise not to run.”

Soojin stared.  Was he serious?  He had to consider her an idiot if he thought she’d simply sit around and let him do with her as he pleased.

He must have taken her silence for acquiescence because he pulled her closer to him and reached behind her for her hands.  Loosening the knot fastened around her wrists, he frowned when he noticed how raw the rope had rubbed her skin as he tugged it away.  He’d barely managed to unravel the rope around her ankles, however, when she kicked him as hard as she could in the groin and scrambled for the entrance.

She didn’t get much further.

Soojin screeched as someone grabbed her by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder as if she were a bag of rice, unmindful of her flailing and screaming as he carried her back into the tent.  If anything, her futile resistance made him laugh.

“Calm down, I won’t hurt you.  See?”

Soojin was startled when she was immediately lowered back onto the ground, although a firm grasp was kept on her arms.  It was probably to prevent her from attempting a second escape, but at the moment she was grateful—her legs were trembling and the last thing she wanted was to collapse and appear weaker than she already did.

She was undeniably cornered.

“I heard you cursing Hoya and all his future generations.”  The man holding her grinned widely, peering over her at the man groaning on the floor and chuckling at his expense.  “Told you I should’ve been the one to talk to her first.”

“Shut up.”

Turning back to Soojin, the one who’d seized her gave her arms a small squeeze and introduced himself, “I’m Dongwoo.  You are?”

“Vicious,” Hoya grunted at his friend, climbing back onto his feet and stumbling over, “She’s worse than your horse.”

“Anima’s perfectly tame,” Dongwoo protested, “And you deserved whatever this girl did to you, scaring her as soon as she’s conscious.”

“Let me go,” Soojin interrupted, looking first at the stranger in front of her, then at the one behind.  This Dongwoo person seemed like he’d be reasonable, or at least easier to persuade than the man he’d called Hoya.  “I’m a mere shrine maiden, of no value to you.  Release me, and maybe the gods will be more merciful on your souls.”

Dongwoo blinked in evident surprise, eyes wide as he glanced at Hoya.  “You didn’t.”

“Didn’t get the chance.”

“We weren’t the ones who took you,” Dongwoo explained quickly, “We rescued you!  From the bandits!”  Hastily taking his hands off the young woman, he held them up before him—a gesture of surrender, in hopes of placating her suspicion.  “We mean you no harm.  Honest.”

“Then I’m free to go?” Soojin questioned, glancing between the two and backing away cautiously.  If she could just sidestep Dongwoo, she should be able to sprint out before they knew what hit them.  She couldn’t be so unlucky as to run into yet another person outside, could she?

“No,” Hoya answered stiffly.  He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.  It was obvious what she wanted to do and clearly she wasn’t accepting Dongwoo’s good intentions.  He didn’t care how intimidating he appeared to her anymore, Hoya was tired of pretending to be patient.  “I told you not to run.”

Dongwoo elbowed his friend in the side.  “What Hoya meant was…”  He cleared his throat, stalling.  Breaking the news was more difficult than he’d pictured.  “Of course you’re free to go, but wouldn’t wandering with company be better than wandering alone?  I realize a nomadic tribe isn’t much to offer in terms of home, but…”

He trailed off uneasily, not that Soojin noticed.  What did he mean by that?

“Whatever you were imagining happened to your village, did,” Hoya bluntly informed her, disregarding Dongwoo’s slaps to his arm and hisses for him to be more sensitive.  “A group of us were passing by for supplies.  We saved who we could, including you.  Some have gone, some have remained.  Now that you know you have nowhere to return to, you may do as you wish.”

It was as Soojin had always hoped—she could do as she wished, whatever she wished, exactly like Hoya said.  Nothing held her back, except…

Soojin bowed, clumsily in her embarrassment.  She’d misunderstood them.  “Thank you.  I’m…the gods aren’t ones for petty threats such as the one I made.”

Hoya scoffed and retreated further into his tent, plopping onto the low cot piled with linen blankets and rolling to face the wall.  Soojin realized it was where she’d lain, before her encounter with the man.

Dongwoo huffed at the younger before addressing their guest once more, “You don’t have to choose right now, you know.  The sun will soon set, at least sleep on your decision.”

“I couldn’t possibly impose further,” Soojin insisted, inching away from Dongwoo.  She could tell he meant well, but his sentiments could not overcome the promise of freedom and the distress of being in the presence of these men—while they may have rescued her, that didn’t stop them from unnerving her for some unfathomable reason.

“You can stay with my sister,” Dongwoo offered.  He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.  “Waking in Hoya’s tent must’ve frightened you.  I apologize, but I assure you, it was the safest place in camp.  We didn’t want any unnecessary risks…not that anyone would’ve taken advantage of you!” he added hurriedly, “Our men are all respectable!  But even if our women can hold their own in a fight, it’s hard to say if they had to defend someone.”  Sensing she was wracking her brain for more excuses to decline, Dongwoo snapped his fingers, “Alright, if you really must leave, leave in the morning.  Spend the night with me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Hoya had bolted upright from his bed at Dongwoo’s preposition.  Dongwoo ignored him and beamed at the girl’s scandalized expression instead.  “You said you were a shrine maiden, did you not?  Judging by your robes, you were trained to be a seer?  Tell me my fortune tonight.”

Soojin exhaled heavily, resisting the urge to pat her chest as she told herself to relax.  What had she been thinking?  It’s not like he’d eat her.

“It’s settled then!” Dongwoo yelled giddily.  She began stammering something along the lines of not being adept at the art, but Dongwoo paid her no heed as he grabbed her by the shoulders and guided her from Hoya’s tent.  “The stars are clearer out here!  I’m willing to bet you’ll get the best readings you’ve ever had.  Ah!  I still haven’t gotten your name!”

Howon watched Dongwoo lead Soojin away and sighed when both exited.  It was her, he was positive.  No matter how much time had passed them by, changing their features and affecting their memories, there were some things that could not be erased.  He smiled softly to himself, recalling the faint trace of a scar he’d seen on the young woman’s left temple.

“You’re helpless.”

Howon glowered.  “And you’re a creep.”

Sungyeol nimbly slinked in from the gap of the ceiling.  Howon cursed mentally.  He just knew he should have closed it off.  Who needed a breeze?  Suffocating in the stifling summer’s heat would’ve been better than having Sungyeol eavesdrop and spy on him.

“You should’ve told her,” Sungyeol griped, “If it was her.”

“How likely would it be for some other girl to have that exact same scar?”

Sungyeol laughed.  “You should thank me for giving it to her then.”

Howon rolled his eyes and punched Sungyeol in the shoulder.  Who on earth would be proud of doing something like that?  Even if Soojin quite honestly brought it on herself, having been a wild child in her own right—they’d actually thought her a boy when they’d first met, her hair trimmed to a messy bob and her face flushed and sweaty from sprinting.

They were the children from a drifting clan, temporarily camped some ways from the rural community as the adults traded wares and stocked up provisions.  The village children ignored them, for the most part, for they were outsiders and neither friend nor foe.  Fine by Howon, since they were the foreigners to him, oddly pale and scrawny compared to the tan and lean of he and his brethren.  It wasn’t until Soojin came dashing towards the bank where Howon and his friends were playing did the children from separate worlds interact.

A couple bigger boys were chasing her but Soojin simply stuck her tongue out at them over her shoulder, cackling at their infuriated expressions as she panted and forced her legs to pump faster.  Something cold and slimy suddenly collided with the side of her head, however, and she shrieked in disgust before she could control herself.  How dare they throw stuff at her!  That was downright low!

She spun on her heel, wiping the slick substance from her cheek and preparing to confront them, when she realized they too were being pelted with balls of mud…and another glob struck her from behind.  The boys who’d pursued her rapidly recoiled from the onslaught, arms shielding their faces, but Soojin hurled a blob of sludge of her own in retaliation as she withdrew.  Smirking at the angry yelp, it caught her off-guard when a sharp pain sprung from her left, dangerously close to her eye.  Cupping the spot instinctively, Soojin winced, gingerly curling her fingers against the wound and wrinkling her nose from the metallic scent of blood.  A pebble most likely cut her, don’t worry about it, it couldn’t have been that deep…

But it certainly hurt, no matter what she told herself.  Soojin blinked back tears as she desperately covered her eye as well as she could, squinting against the blood and muck obscuring her sight.  Her departure was significantly slower, the increasing panic from being under assault and unable to see making her falter in her steps until she slipped and fell.

Cheers sounded somewhere beyond the range of Soojin’s vision, hoots of victory and celebration that only served to make Soojin feel worse.  The dam ruptured, and before she knew it, she was bawling, her cries unstoppable.

“Oh c’mon,” a tall lanky boy sneered, “What kind of guy cries from getting dirty?”

Soojin hiccupped angrily, but the tears refused to cease.  Whatever!  She’d like to see how he’d react if there was a hole in his face!

“Hey, seriously, what’s wrong with him?”

“Maybe he hurt himself when he fell?”

“Is something up with his eye?”

“Hey, hey kid, let go of your hand.”  The speaker pried Soojin’s fingers from her temple with surprising gentleness.  Soojin’s wailing had died down to sniffs and gasps by now, leaving her too exhausted and breathless to squirm away from these outlandish boys and their violent ways.  “He’s bleeding!”

“Yeollie, what’d you throw at him?”

“It was just mud, I swear!”

“Find umma!”

“Is it going to scar?” Soojin whimpered, flinching as the boy bent over her dabbed at her injury with the edge of his sleeve.  As if her mother didn’t nag her enough, what would she say if Soojin came home in such a state?

Howon shrugged.  “In my tribe, true men bear scars.”  Grinning toothily, Howon ruffled the sniveling kid’s hair the way his father did him.  “Stop crying, you should be proud.”  When the other continued to sniffle, he sighed and grudgingly stuck his hand out to help him up.  “I’m Howon.  Where do you live?  I can take you home.”

“No!  You can’t!”  Flustered, Soojin dropped Howon’s hand as if it burned her.  Her mother couldn’t see the mess she was!

Before Howon could rebuke him for his rudeness, Dongwoo came scampering towards them with his mother in tow.  She shooed the boys away when they tried to crowd around and watch, eager to witness someone getting sewn up—only to be too keen to flee when her nostrils flared as she scolded them all for bullying a younger girl.

He didn’t expect they’d meet again after Dongwoo’s mother bandaged her and took her home.  Why was a girl running amok with boys anyway, much less intruding into their world?  So Howon was naturally shocked when she showed up on the bank the next morning, notably cleaner than she’d been, carrying a basket and wearing a dress topped with a petulant scowl.

“What are you doing back here?” Howon challenged, leaping over a barricade he and Dongwoo built.  They were in the middle of a new game of war with Sungyeol and his cousins, and he’d rather cut it off now before the silly girl got another reason to cry.  “You shouldn’t be here, not if you’re going to make that ugly face.”

“Umma asked me to bring some things to show our ap-ap-appreshi—appreciuh—to say thanks,” she said, pursing her lips in shame at the stumble, “But she made me wear this evil thing.  My legs feel .”

Howls of laughter erupted behind Howon, not that he could keep his chuckles contained either.  “You make an awful girl.”

Soojin gaped.  “As if you’d know!  You couldn’t even tell I was a girl!” she retorted hotly, marching up to him and ing the basket into his arms.

“That’s how awful you are at being one,” he teased, lifting the covering to peek inside and blinking inquisitively at the shiny marble sitting among the cakes and flasks.  A hand shot forth and snatched it from beneath his nose, however, and he looked up to stare at the girl pocketing the bauble.

“Was going to give this to you, but you can forget it now,” she jeered.

The others gradually approached them, elbowing each other and snickering, but Howon took no notice.  Pushing the basket at Dongwoo, he stepped closer to the girl and pressed on even as she skipped backwards.  “You can’t take something back after you gave it away.”

“Says who?”

“It’s impolite!”

“And who are you to lecture me on being polite?” Soojin taunted, blowing a raspberry and racing off.  “If you want it so much, catch me if you can!”

Howon wasn’t one for trivial trinkets or sloppy baiting, yet the mischievous lilt of the unusual girl’s mirth prompted him to give chase.  The guys would make fun of him upon his return, but not even their jabs could diminish the smile he sported.

During the time their clan stayed in that land, Howon eventually learned that the peculiar girl was named Choi Soojin, that she cut her hair herself with shears while her mother was out, and that she once tried feeding her dresses to the family dog.  He learned that she literally couldn’t swim to save her life, that her fingers were as swift as Sungyeol was on his feet, that she snorted unconsciously when she giggled, and that her ribs were annoyingly ticklish, to her anyway—it was all very entertaining to him.  He learned she liked climbing trees, much to her mother’s disapproval.  He learned she liked baking, much to her father’s encouragement.  He learned she liked feeling the wind upon the back of her neck, liked napping in the midday sun, liked catching frogs and bringing them home, liked finding daisies by her window—even if she’d never admit it.

He learned he’d have to leave her, as was his tribe’s culture.

Yet she was always there when he returned, year after year.  Soojin became the thing he looked forward to when they journeyed to these parts.  He looked forward to her darting fearlessly into their camp, having become a familiar face.  He looked forward to her bright greetings, her expectant requests for stories, her perpetual amazement.  Most of all, he looked forward to her telling him she missed him, that things were dull while he was away, that she wished she could travel with him—how exciting it must be when the world was his playground!

“Why don’t you?” he’d once asked, emboldened by her attention focused solely on him.  Her cheeks glowed from the bonfire’s blaze and her eyes twinkled like the marble he always carried on his person, better than the stars—she was within reach, not galaxies away.

“Did you just propose we elope?  You’ll have to spirit me from my parents first,” she’d smugly replied.  “Besides, you can’t even catch frogs for me yet.”

“Someday.”

“Someday,” Soojin conceded.

Howon didn’t return for three years after that encounter.  He’d come of age, and as the traditions of his clan dictated, he and his peers had rites of passage to complete.  Independent treks, far-reaching voyages, soul-searching journeys into the unknown, time-consuming discoveries fatiguing both mind and body—not that he’d have it any other way.  But even as her face blurred in his memories, replaced by marks and tales of his experiences, Howon made sure to remind himself who he’d sworn to someday return to.

Eighteen and fresh from the ceremony signifying his manhood, Howon was prepared to bring Soojin all the frogs and wildflowers she wanted if she’d agree to escape with him.  She didn’t burst into camp this time, but he didn’t dwell on it.  Soojin probably wasn’t expecting him, or was even holding a grudge since it’d taken him so long to come back—he’d told her he’d be gone a lengthier amount of time, but not even Howon could’ve predicted such a prolonged span.  His friends mocked him good-naturedly, his ears turning pink as he rubbed at his nose, but he prepared the customary gifts and went to her home with an enthusiasm in his step that almost tripped him.

He was three years too late.

“So…” Sungyeol prodded, “Why didn’t you tell her?”

“She didn’t recognize me,” Howon muttered.  He had dreamed of their meeting countless times.  Maybe she’d run away from the temple and miraculously find her way to where he was.  Maybe he’d chance upon her as she was collecting herbs.  Or maybe he’d go in seeking advice and she’d be the seer to divine his future, who knew?  And maybe Howon once fancied breaking in and tearing her from the clutches of duty, because surely she was miserable sauntering about in fancy robes and heavy head ornaments, but of course he never acted on that.  Who was he to barge in on her life?  If fate foretold their reunion, it would’ve come to pass—why interfere with what they’d each grown to follow?

It’s not like he was afraid or anything, that she might have actually found the quiet respected existence as a prophetess-in-training to be preferable to the unruly livelihood of her youth, the unsettled livelihood Howon only knew.

Sungyeol made an irritated noise low in his throat.  “Have you looked at yourself?  I wouldn’t have recognized you if I haven’t grown up with you!  Let’s not forget she thinks your name’s Hoya.  You’re overestimating someone who’s known nothing but scrolls and relics for the past ten years.”

What did Sungyeol expect him to say?  Yes Sungyeol had a point, yes Howon could’ve reminded her, yes Howon could’ve clarified his identity—his hindsight always was clearer.  He had been hurt, disappointed, plain and simple.  Howon may not have known it was Soojin right away, but he figured it out soon enough.  She, on the other hand, barked nonsense at him about curses and plagues, attacked him when he helped her, not to mention ran off before he could get a word in edgewise.  Absolutely nothing like what he’d envisioned.

“You’re lucky hyung’s delaying her for the night.  Don’t be stupid come morning.”

“Whatever,” Howon mumbled, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes tiredly.

Despite his seeming nonchalance, Howon obeyed.  In fact, he felt he handled himself quite well.  He was dignified and composed, and in no way acted like an idiot come morning…at least, he didn’t think he did.

Sungyeol would like to disagree.  Vehemently.  Dongwoo too.

“Did she tell you anything useful?” Howon asked Dongwoo gruffly, pretending to be oblivious to the pointed glances Sungyeol cast Soojin while she accepted a small travel pack from Dongwoo’s sister.  Dongwoo hummed and tilted his head in Soojin’s direction, eyes widening comically in what was apparently a meaningful look, but again Howon feigned incomprehension.  “Did she tell you where you might finally find a bride?  You’re not getting any younger, hyung.”

“She told me she wanted to see the world.  She told me there was someone she wanted to find,” Dongwoo stressed, “if only to throttle him for not returning to her when she waited so patiently for him.”  He didn’t understand why Howon would still hesitate.  True as it was that time and obligation had separated him from Soojin, they were finally together again—Howon merely had to make a move, to take an extra step towards reconciliation.  He’d think Howon would’ve learned his lesson by now, did he want to let opportunity pass him by?  There were only so many times one could be too late.

Howon knew without asking that Dongwoo had not revealed his identity, just as he knew Sungyeol wasn’t currently exposing him—it wasn’t theirs to tell.  They respected him as their brother, and his discretion in turn, no matter how much they questioned his judgment.  In fact, Sungyeol was looking thoroughly exasperated by this point and threw all subtlety to the wind as he gesticulated vigorously at Soojin, the young woman bowing gratefully to Dongwoo’s sister in parting.  Howon shot him a menacing glare.  Sungyeol tightened his lips into a thin line, staring back in defiance, but ultimately threw his arms in the air in defeat as he stalked away.  Howon’s gaze shifted, lingering on Soojin’s back.

His silence spoke volumes.

Dongwoo growled, smacking Howon in the side of the head in a rare show of frustration.  It pained him, watching someone he cared for behave in such a manner.  Did Howon believe himself a martyr?  And for what?  Depriving not only himself, but Soojin as well?  They were almost there, they could be happy—what could possibly compel Howon towards any other alternative?  “There’s no reason she can’t have both!” Dongwoo argued, “Why would you insist she sacrifice one for the other?  Why would you do this to yourself?”

Howon’s ire presently melted to resignation.  “We all know that some journeys are best made alone.  Having a role forced on her for years…she needs to find herself again, not pick up where she’d left off with me.  I’ve changed.  It’s time she did too.”

“But…”  Dongwoo trailed off reluctantly, pout weighing down the corners of his mouth.  “Are you really okay with this?  Just letting her go?”

Smiling wistfully, Howon absentmindedly the marble in his pocket.

If fate foretold their reunion, it would certainly come to pass.

He could afford to let Soojin go on her own adventure, so long as it led back to him.

Someday.