Young-hee and the Pullocho (23 page)

“Of course not,” said Young-hee. “It never does.” She sat on the brown rock and looked around. “Wait, wait, wait. ‘First men?' I thought Bear was the first human.”

“True. Ungnyeo the Bear became human in a cave atop of Mount Baekdu and then married the King Under Heaven and gave birth to Dangun. And three divine men shot three arrows to divide their kingdom. And Mireuk created man and woman from insects he caught on a golden plate, with the help of Frog, Mouse, and Rabbit.”

Samjogo, full of patience and contentment, smiled at Young-hee. She couldn't stand that. “So which story is right?”

“‘Right'?”

“They can't all be true.”

“I don't know which is ‘true.' But they are all true stories. The same way the path splits into an endless maze of options whenever you try walking back along it.”

“So. Only forward then?”

“Forward. Or off the path altogether.”

“No, I need the path,” she said. “
Aish.
So annoying. But thank you for helping me find it again.”

“You only lost the path because you saved me. It was the least I could do.”

Very true
, she thought, struggling not to snark out loud. “Well, I should probably get going.”

“You know, you did more than just free me from almost certain death from Yeonggam. You distracted him long enough for me to defeat him. And you shared your food. I feel that I owe you more.”

“Don't worry about it.”

“I do not worry. But I pay my obligations. Perhaps you would allow me to continue on and help find your pullocho?”

Young-hee was not sure how she felt about that. Samjogo seemed flaky and strange. Plus his constant chatter made quiet travel impossible. But he knew much more about Strange Land than she, and about fighting and weapons. Plus, it would be good to have company—no telling how long before she found a pullocho. “Let's get going, then,” she decided. “Thanks.”

The trail wandered down the high hills, through a rolling valley. In the distance, she spied small clusters that looked like villages, and the countryside here was a little less lonely. With leafier and more fern-like trees, the landscape was more arid than the jureum
forest.

“Are we traveling south?” she asked. “The climate seems more tropical. But the sun is on our left.”

“What does the sun have to do with south?”

“You know … the sun rises in the east, sets in the west. During the day it is in the south.”

“Does your sun only have one route?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, it changes a bit with the seasons—its angle mostly. And really it's the Earth that moves, not the sun at all. But every day, it rises in the east and sets in the west.”

“Sounds horribly boring. The sun here has far more options.”

“But, wait. … If the sun shifts, what about seasons? How can you tell directions? I mean …” Young-hee snapped silent. Atop the next hill, looking down on them, she could see it—a ghost. Long, straight black hair, smooth skin, and faceless, just smooth skin like an egg. One of the ghosts from Lake Mey had found her again.

“Do you see it?” asked Young-hee fearfully, tugging on Samjogo's sleeve. “On top of the hill—a ghost.”

“An Egg Ghost,” he looked worried. “That is not good.”

“There could be others,” she warned, searching frantically.

“Yes, you said even the Ghost Queen herself pursued you. I had better make sure the Egg Ghost does not contact her sisters.” Samjogo drew his hyeopdo and jammed the arrow into the path between two stones. “That should hold the path. Stay out of sight. I'll return soon.”

As he sprinted across the field, the Egg Ghost retreated into the woods. Young-hee looked for a hiding place, but the hills were mostly open, rocky grasslands, with clumps of trees here and there. Some small villages seemed not too far, but the way there was far too exposed—assuming, of course, that whoever or whatever lived there was friendly. So she headed away from the Egg Ghost, toward a solitary and ancient-looking zelkova tree. In its majestic canopy, a flock of birds looked down on Young-hee with expressions between bemused and inscrutable. Well, not a flock exactly—all the birds all seemed to be from different species. She could lay low in the tall, thick reeds around the tree and keep an eye out for ghosts, and Samjogo.

And so she sat, as inconspicuous as possible. As the stalks and blades rustled against her, rough and pointy, she remembered the marvelously silky grasses she had run through so happily on her first Strange Land journey. Maybe they only existed around jureum trees, or maybe it was she who had changed.

Shifting her weight, she felt a lump in one coat pocket. Her cell phone. Without thinking, she took it out, and flipped it open.
(Flipped?
Who still has flip phones? Only her, it seemed)
. Unthinking, she pressed the “on” key and, after a pause, the phone hummed and lit up. The logo danced across the screen as the phone dragged itself back to life.

The power bar had just one small, red bar. Not much at all. The big clock-calendar was a confused jumble of almost times and nearly dates.
Poor thing
can't figure out where or when it is
. No messages either.
Same useless hunk of plastic as ever.
But just as she was about to power down, there it was—just for a moment and just one tiny bar—a brief flicker of reception. A glitch? An electronic spazz-out? Not daring to get her hopes up, she pressed the “4” key. Speed dial. For home.

Ten blips sang as the phone counted out her phone number. Then silence.
This is stupid
. She looked out across the hills with the phone cupped to her ear, but heard nothing.
Maybe I should have dialed it like an international call
, she joked to herself. But just as she was ready to give up, there came a click. Followed by a buzz, a whirring, and then a ring.
A ring!
Young-hee couldn't believe it. But just as quickly, she thought,
What can I possibly I say?

“
Hello?
” The answering voice was distant, distorted and staticky. But it was clearly mom. “
Young-hee? Is that you?
” Young-hee froze, suddenly too happy and too heartbroken to speak. “
Hello? Hello?”
the voice repeated, each word more urgent.

“M-Mom?” said Young-hee at last.

“
Young-hee?”
the voice repeated, a wash of relief audible even over the bad connection. “
Young-hee, where are you? Where on ea… ... you been?
”

“Mom? Yes, it's me. I'm here.”

“
Young-hee? … can't … … clearly.
”

“Mom? Can you hear me? It's Young-hee.”

“
I can't … ....
”

“I'm okay. I'm here.”

“
… sta… … Where's Young-beom?
”

“Mom, I'm trying to get Young-beom back. I promise.”

“
Where's Young-beom?
” Even through the static, her mom sounded panicked.

“He's with me, kind of. I mean, he was. It's a little hard to explain, but I promise I'll bring him back soon.”

“
… don't … … -ation … … a … ever!
”

“I said, I promise I'll bring him back do you. Mom?”

“
What do you mea… …?!
”

“Mom? Can you hear me? Mom?” Cut off, Young-hee immediately hit redial. The numbers beeped, but then only silence. She hit end, then redial. And again. But before the digits finished counting, the sounds stopped and the screen faded to black. Out of power. “
No!
” she cried at her phone. “No, no, no. Mom, I'm so sorry.” Feelings flooded across her like waves in a storm—misery, longing, guilt, anger, ache, despair, helplessness. She couldn't distinguish one from another, but they all hurt too deeply to contain. She was crying. “Mom …,” she said.

She wasn't sure how long she lay in the grass—only that she was nearly cried out—when she thought she heard a strange noise.
Another ghost? But no, someone else was weeping, calling for help.
“Hello?” came the sad voice, deep and rumbling. “Terrible, how terrible… Is anybody up there?”

“Uh, just me,” said Young-hee, seeing no one. A light breeze swished the grass and tickled the zelkova leaves, but otherwise all was still. “I don't see you, whoever you are.” Up in the tree, the mismatched birds gazed silently down.

“I'm over here,” said the voice unhelpfully.

“Here?”

“I'm under the ground, in a trap. Between the thick grass and the big tree.”

“That sounds dreadful. I'm coming,” she said, adding, “I hope I don't fall in, too.”

She crept through the grass, testing each step, in case of more traps. Under the hulking, arching zelkova, there it was—a big hole, partially obscured by reeds. Young-hee peered carefully over the edge. It wasn't what she expected. “Hey, you're a tiger!”

“Indeed, I am Tiger,” said the big cat, obviously embarrassed. He was a large tiger, at least in Young-hee's opinion, and the hole was barely larger than his bulk, but deep enough that he couldn't get out. His ears lay back against his head, and his tail slinked limply behind. “If you would be so nice, please help me out before the villagers who dug this trap find and kill me.”

“There's a long coil of rope here.”

“Probably the villagers left it to string me up.”

Young-hee tied one end around the tree, but before she threw the other end down the pit, she stopped and frowned. She had been tricked before. “What a minute. You aren't going to eat me as soon as I help you out of that pit, are you?”

“Oh, no. That would not be nice of me at all. I would owe you my life.”

“You promise not to eat me?”

“Of course.”

Her forehead wrinkled with stress as she decided, then tossed one end of rope down the tiger trap. Young-hee knew real world tigers cannot climb ropes, but neither could they (or frogs or rabbits or bony skulls) talk. Indeed, this Strange Land tiger spilled out of the hole with a lumbering, undignified scamper, falling heavy onto his back. He growled with joy and wriggled in the grass, scratching his back. “Oh, thank you, thank you,” he said. “I was certain that the villagers would find me, mount my head above a door, and use my fur as a blanket. Terrible.” Tiger rolled over onto his feet. “I must say, I was stuck quite a long time,” he said, his voice rumbling deep. He walked slowly and deliberately toward Young-hee. “Several days, alone in the dark, not knowing when my life would end. With nothing at all to eat.”

“Er, I'm sure my friend, when he gets back, will help you get something to eat,” said Young-hee with a nervous laugh as she backed away from Tiger just as deliberately. “He's the Samjogo. Do you know him? Three-legged bird of power. He's very protective of me.”

“I'm sure he is,” said Tiger, who suddenly sprang forward and wrapped himself around Young-hee like a kitten cozying the feet of its owner. A very, very large kitten. A very, very hungry kitten. “But I am so very hungry. And you do look quite delicious.”

“But you promised.” She felt growing panic, and scanned the hills for Samjogo.

“Well, perhaps. But I am a tiger, after all. I can only act according to my nature.”

“You said you owed me your life.”

“And now I am starving. So perhaps you can help me a second time. One last time.”

“That's so … rude,” sputtered Young-hee, who suddenly found herself more angry than scared. “Besides, you could
never
hurt me. I'm far too powerful for you.”

“Don't be silly,” said Tiger, looking Young-hee all over. “Your teeth are small and flat, your claws are weak, your body is tiny.”