85
A Night Disturbance — The Same Defeated Men Return
The night was deep, the fire reduced to a low glow.Acrid smoke from burning horse dung sank into the snow.Most of the soldiers slept curled beside their horses or behind the carts—breathing steady, ears open.
Then, from beyond the fire, a sound slipped in—one that did not mix with the wind.
Scrape.
Footsteps on snow.Small, uneven.Not the rhythm of boots, nor of hooves.A movement that hesitated—one step, a pause, then another.
With his eyes closed, Park Seong-jin counted the rhythm.Two. Three. Four.The direction was below the low northern ridge.
The sound came again—this time, a stone rolling.
At once, Huang Hyun-pil rose.The firelight's shadow wavered large.
"Up."
The word was not loud, but it carried.The soldiers rose together.Metal slid softly from scabbards; fingers brushed bowstrings.
"Leave the fire."
Keep the light. Hide the movement.
Park Seong-jin dismounted and took up his bow.He did not draw yet.The source needed to reveal itself further.
Below the ridge, the presence spread again.This time it was breathing—ragged, broken breaths.Not one. Two, then three.A faint cough rode the wind.
"Not an animal's breath,"Oh Jin-cheol said quietly.
"Not horses, either,"Huang Hyun-pil nodded.
Then a shape slid down out of the darkness.A shadow that moved almost by crawling across the snow.Another followed. Then another.All bent low at the waist.
They did not run.There was no rush of attack.
"Stop."
Huang Hyun-pil's voice rang clear.
The shadows froze at once.
Then someone collapsed onto the snow.
Thud.
The sound of a body hitting.
"W… water…"
The voice was so low it nearly vanished into the wind.
Park Seong-jin stepped forward."Raise the light—just a little."
The fire stirred.In its glow stood a soldier.His armor was torn, his sash bleached.His face was drawn tight, eyes wide in a gaunt frame.
Those revealed behind him were the same.Six. Seven.All alike.
"Drop your weapons,"Huang Hyun-pil said.
A spear fell onto the snow.Then a sword. Another.They were not thrown—they slipped from hands that had lost their strength.
"We did not come to fight,"the man at the front said.It sounded less like speech than breath being expelled.
"Surrender. We surrender. Defeated men."
The air in the camp tightened once more.
"We heard there was food… saw the light—"
The words did not finish.His knees gave way first.
They had come for the firelight—there was no doubt of it.Perhaps they would rather lean toward the glow of human warmththan die under nature's raw wind.
A few soldiers lifted their bows by reflex.Park Seong-jin did not draw.Instead, he looked at the hands of those collapsed on the snow.They trembled.There was no strength left to grip a weapon.
Huang Hyun-pil looked down at them for a long moment.Then he spoke.
"Any more?"
"Two above the ridge. They can't walk."
Huang Hyun-pil closed his eyes briefly, then opened them."Share the fire. Share food."
A faint stir passed through the soldiers.
"But—"
His voice hardened.
"Do not come any closer.Cross the line, and you'll be treated as enemies."
The defeated men nodded again and again.The movement was not gratitude—it was the body's response to staying alive.
The fire fell quiet once more.But it was no longer the same quiet.
Park Seong-jin looked past the fire into the dark beyond.He could not be certain these were the last to come tonight.There were still many paths left in the snow.
Hunger always finds the way first.
He understood it clearly now.This battlefield could no longer be explained by blades and arrows alone.Each person was fighting to survive.
They were fighting winter.
And winter was moving ahead of the soldiers.