“Where’d you even get the ticket?” The girl asks, breaking the silence. Her tone is accusatory, thin eyebrows drawn together as she fixes Haeok under a glare. It’s Jungok who responds. “It was for him,” she answers, nodding to Injae- his mouth opens in shock. “We’d forgotten that he has his.. methods, for getting places,” she finishes, smiling at the youngest teasingly and laughing when his ears flush. “I- Sorry,” he stutters, gaze shifting to the window. The response catches the girl’s attention, gaze swiveling to fixate on Injae. “You’re from Kyongsong, aren’t you? You can’t be their brother.” “N-no, I’m not.” The resulting laugh is cruel. “Do you just take anyone along with you?” She grins at Jungok, though it’s more like a snarl. “Adding anyone who asks for it? Oh wait,” she pronounces, “I didn’t.” Haeok’s voice is cold when he interjects. “If you want to leave, you can get off the train. Nobody’s forcing you to stay here.” His features are still, but Suok knows to read the regret in his tone. “Don’t talk like you didn’t make me do this-” Cutting her off, Suok turns to the older girl imploringly. “Unnie, please don’t fight him.” “Unnie?” Her eyes widen in shock, the pause draining the venom from her tone. “You don’t even know me.” “You’re right, sorry.” Suok nods her head slightly, smiling. “I’m Gyeong Suok, born in ’29. How about you?” “I-” The older girl swallows, off-footed. “Baek Yongam, ’25.” “See? I knew it,” Suok confirms cheerily. “Unnie. Yongam-Unnie.” From beside her, Jungok laughs. At that the aggression is back, the oldest girl turning to glare at her. “What?” She glowers. “Nothing! Nothing,” Jungok interjects through giggles. “It’s just, Suok-ah has such crazy quick nunchi.” She stops for a moment, stifling the laughter. “I’m Jungok, ’26.” “Hm.” The girl- Yongam’s- eyes are narrowed as she glances over the group, suspicion held in her tone. “Suok, Jungok…?” “Haeok-oppa, ’24,” Suok answers, gesturing to her brother’s deadpan countenance, “and Injae, ’30”. At his mention, the youngest boy nods meekly in Yongam’s general direction before squirming back into his seat. “The three of us are from, well. close to Daegu.” An amused huff escapes her mouth. “I know. You think your dialect is subtle?” The corner of her lip quirks, cat-like. “I’m from Wonsan.” “Oh, Really?” Jungok perks up in her seat. “You’ve been to the ocean then?” She asks, excitement overlooking any offense. “Of course,” Yongam smiles, an expression reminiscent of something feral. “I’d go all the time.” “Wahh,” Jungok reacts. “We’ve never been.” She indicates towards herself and the youngest. Suok sighs. Yongam’s angular eyes flit from Jungok to her brother, curious scrutiny fixing him under her gaze. “You’ve gone, then?” She prompts. Lips pursed, Haeok nods once in acknowledgment. Yongam looks at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. “And? What did you think?” Guiltily, Jungok shifts in her seat. Suok glares at Yongam, but the oldest girl gives no acknowledgment. “I prefer the forest,” He responds, jaw clenched in obvious tension. He turns, facing the window. Features stretched in incredulity, Yongam lets out a huff of air, mouth curled into a small smirk. “Really? You have no taste.” She looks back to Jungok. “The ocean is beautiful. Where I’m from, I could find all kinds of things washed up on the shore- shells, sometimes glass from Japan.” The smile on her face is the most genuine expression Suok thinks she’s seen on her. “Oh, really?” Jungok reacts, awed. “That sounds so nice.” “Yeah,” Yongam affirms, a note of pride in her voice. “Sometimes you could find whole nakksijji guseul- you know those?” When Jungok shakes her head, she continues. “They’re called ukidama, glass buoy balls, sometimes this big.” She makes a circular gesture with her hands about the size of a dinner plate. A soft smile crosses her dirt-stained features as the words seem to leave of their own accord. “Jjokbari use them for fishing nets, to float them- but sometimes they fall off, and you can find them on the beach. My family had a nice collection.” With that, Suok watches as the door is neatly slid shut over her complexion, features fixing into something stiff. Suok feels the weight of that as much as any of them do, she’s sure- Beside her, Jungok shifts as the conversation plummets into a stilted silence. Turning to look up at her sister, Suok pouts. “Unnie, I’m hungry,” she whines, jutting out her lower lip. Her sister lets out a huff of hair, blowing a stray hair to drift against her cheek. It hadn’t been long since their last meal at the station, but the night was drawing late. “I have napjak mandu, if you want some?” Jungok offers. She laughs softly when Suok nods enthusiastically, reaching down to draw from her wicker bag. leaning up, she brings with her a small pot, removing the lid to reveal the mandu. “What’s this called?” Yongam asks, leaning over to gaze at the pot with apparent hunger. Now it’s Jungok’s voice which lifts in pride to respond. “Flat Dumplings. In Daegu they’re usually had with rice cakes, but they’re very good alone.” Smiling, she holds the pot out to the older girl. “Are you sure?” Yongam asks tone wary even as her gaze remains fixed on the food. “Of course! It’s practically a crime that you haven’t had any, really,” Jungok assures, nodding again towards the dumplings. Somewhat vainly, Yongam wipes her hands against her skirt. A small grimace crosses her face when it does nothing to clean the grime, the fabric equally dirty. With the quick look of someone daring objection, she takes three from the pot. Jungok it the pot to Suok next, who takes two before passing it to Haeok. Injae takes his share after with shaking hands, and gives the pot back to Jungok. Eagerly, they begin to eat. “S’good, yeah?” Suok asks, looking to Yongam and Injae. “Mhmn.” Yongam hums appreciatively. Injae nods. Next to Suok, a small smile crosses her sister’s face before she reaches into the bag again. This time, cooked millet and the remaining persimmons are passed around the group. The meal continues in silence, everyone enjoying the food, Yongam eating especially hungrily. When Suok finishes, she turns to face the window, back leaning against Jungok’s side. Outside, the pale crescent moon hangs low in the sky, distant lights of a village flickering from across the flat fields. Her eyelids flutter. “Sleepy, kkoma?” Jungok whispers against her. Suok hears rustling, then feels the soft weight of fabric. Opening her eyes, she shifts to wrap the sheet spread over her around her feet, kicking off the rubber boots. Drawing the blanket around her, she curls against her sister’s chest. The lull of the tracks and Jungok’s breathing swaddle her in a gentle familiarity as Suok feels her mind drift away. … When Suok awakens, it’s to the now-familiar rumbling of the wheels beneath. The rays of the morning sun press against her eyelids in their warmth, tender, but firm. She blinks slowly, carefully sitting up from where sleep finds her curled in Jungok’s lap. As the world fades back into focus, she hears the soft snores of her sister beside her, looks around to find the still sleeping faces of the rest. Mouth dry, she runs her tongue against the back of her teeth. Only the movement of the train disturbs the silence of their compartment, bumps coinciding with the rumbling beneath. As the sun stretches her reach into the train, stripes of warmth play atop the center aisle, illuminate the leather backings of empty rows. Suok breathes, for a moment, closes her eyes. The compartment is cold, she realizes, shivering slightly where she sits and drawing the blanket closer around her. Thwack! She looks to the window, startled; a branch had hit against it, blows away before the sea of colors behind the pane, the forest outside the window. Eyes widened, Suok moves closer, forehead cold where it presses against the glass. The dry rice paddies of the countryside long passed during the night. The forest, made up of a thousand dots of a thousand trees, a thousand colors- the rustle of delicate leaves dripping like honey, like sparks of flame as they swirl in the wind, falling to the dirt as Suok flies past them. An untouched carpet of rust, amber, of paper-thin leaves that would crinkle under her footfalls with the ardent flavor of life, a musty scent- through the glass, she can taste it. Suok looks up, ahead, to where the mountains meet the sky. The horizon is shadowed, shaped by their jagged peaks and gentle slopes, climbing beyond her sight in reach of the heavens. And behind them all, Baektu Mountain looms greater, standing like a proud mother watching over her creation. Draped in swirling grays, the shawl of her distant mist bleeds into the cotton puffs drifting in the sky far above Suok, and the frigid breath of Baektusan whips against the cold pane she peers though, fogs the glass when she exhales, eyes wide, spilling down her cheeks with the exuberance of The Mountain.