The Silence of Bones - June Hur Page 0,11

ahead, and all I saw was a lonely stretch of darkness punctuated by a single moon.

“Listen.” My brother, my orabeoni, leaned out from the edge of the boat. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” I asked.

“A heartbeat in the sea.”

I strained my ear against the lapping waves, and I watched the foam crashing. “What is down there, orabeoni?”

“Turtles, jellyfish, shrimp. Many creatures.”

“Are they kind?”

“Yes, they are.”

I dipped my fingers into the waves, and gradually, I saw the land so close and yet so far away, illuminated by the moon and the glow of lanterns. Home appeared to me like an unreachable land of fairy maidens. And when I turned to tell my brother this, he was gone.

* * *

A breeze woke me. Bits of soil clung to my lashes, falling into my eyes when I blinked up at the sky. It was night, and I was alone and surrounded by ancient trees, hundreds of them. I struggled to my feet and all my bones cried out in protest. Knife-sharp pain sliced my head, and as I waited for it to ease, I glanced around.

Right, left, front, back. Each direction looked the same—rocks, branches, and rustling leaves.

I needed to escape this mountain. Low twigs and thorns caught my skirt as I stumbled, and in the wind, the swaying shadows of trees grasped for me. Desperate, I scrambled down the slope like an ant—tiny, insignificant, lost in a world of giants.

The slope led me to a stream and I pushed through the icy water, climbing over broken granite slabs and trying to keep my skirt from getting soaked. Then my feet slipped. My knees and hands landed on the slimy rocks, sending forth an explosion of icy water. I remained on all fours, too stunned to move, and slowly, as the cold bit into me, a feeling of helplessness pierced deep.

Was everything I had thought about myself—that I mattered—nothing more than a story in my head?

There’s no time for sulking. Move on, Seol. I was good at doing that.

I took off my sandals and stepped barefoot from rock to rock, but the tears burning my eyes made it difficult to see clearly. I jumped too far, my feet slipping off the edge, and I was down again. The river ripped the sandals out from my grasp. “No!” I cried as they rushed away in the black current, sandals woven for me by my sister. The only thing I had to remember her by.

Move on.

My teeth were chattering and my lips blue by the time I reached dry land. I pushed into the trees again, twigs and stones pricking my bare feet, and the raw weather rattled my bones. I needed a fire. I pictured how I’d seen other servants spark them with rocks, not a skill I’d ever learned. All the while, thoughts of the tiger stalked through my mind. The wind through the trees was its breath, the crunching forest floor the scrape of its claws. Its growls rolled from streambeds.

The mountain was a tiger, and it was hungry.

I went on that way, not knowing the hour or direction. What felt like an eternity later, I saw light—the flicker of torches. I halted, keeping low as the figures moved among the trees, while behind them an ox pulled a wagon laden with crates. The torchbearers were quick-footed, five in all, big, lean men in dusty cotton clothing. In their midst was a gentleman on horseback, in a silk robe and a tall black hat. Beads of nobility were strapped around his chin.

All the men held clubs and swords. Guards, I considered … or bandits.

I slowly rose to run, but a twig snapped beneath my step. Holding my breath, I watched one man turn in my direction, then gesture quickly. Without warning, a shadow of another man I hadn’t noticed charged toward me, and his rough hand grabbed my arm, hard fingers digging deep as if to snap bone. The man dragged me over to the group. I could barely walk, and when he released me, I fell to the ground, prostrating myself before the gentleman on horseback. “Have mercy, sir!”

The gentleman slid off his horse, and as my head was lowered, I only saw his leather boots close to my hand.

“Do get up.”

The tone made me look up. Under the starlight, I saw a long face, a strong jaw, and high cheekbones. The face of a woman.

“Now,” she said, “what are you doing out here all alone?”

I was at a loss for

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