The boy grinned. “That’s what Mother threatened to turn him into if he didn’t behave.”
Peanut ran back with a small wooden box and several strips of cloth. “Mama says I’m s’posed to take you to the spring, so you can wash your feet. You’re s’posed to cover the hurts with this medicine and cloth, so they don’t swell up red. And then mama says you’re s’posed to go to the shrine, like your mama always does. I can take you there!”
The little girl turned sideways, tugging her earlobe. “Big brother, you’re supposed to do something with the pigs. I forget what, but Little Uncle said so.”
Suwol laughed. “Peanut, whenever you lie, you always pull your ear. Everyone knows you’re not allowed to go to the spring. Give the bandages and salve to Junja.”
Peanut thrust the box and cloth strips into Junja’s hands before turning to glare at her brother. “You think you’re so smart just because you’re studying to be a baksa! Wearing a scholar’s headband doesn’t make you one!”
Suwol motioned to Junja to follow him. The two of them walked away while Peanut stamped the ground, howling.
“How long will she scream like that?” Junja looked back as Peanut’s wails grew louder. Mother would take a switch to her children’s legs if they behaved that way.
The boy kept walking. “She’ll only get louder if you pay attention. Just ignore her.”
* * *
The spring was a dozen paces away from the main house, past a small ridge. Suwol clambered up and then reached over to offer Junja his hand. “We’re taking the shortcut.”
As the girl stepped up, the wind whipped her hair into her face. Junja pulled the strands away from her eyes, gasping. Below her lay the coastline: pale sand, dark rocks, shimmering ocean. The sky above was a bright expanse of blue.
“It feels like the top of the world here, doesn’t it?” Suwol’s cropped hair was ruffled by the wind.
Just like blackbird feathers, Junja thought.
The boy turned around to grab a bucket wedged into a rock cleft beside a small stone well. He hefted the wooden lid off the well and tossed the bucket, which was tied to the lid by a length of rope, into the darkness below.
“Everyone else uses the new pulley well over there,” Suwol motioned with his head as he pulled the rope, hand over fist. “I prefer the old well. The view’s better here.” He placed the brimming bucket on the ground next to Junja, who had already taken off her straw shoes and socks.
The girl dipped her cupped hands into the bucket to drink. “Oh! That’s sweet!” She soaked one of the cloth strips to wipe her wounds.
Suwol kept his head turned to give the girl some privacy as she tended to her feet. He squatted nearby, picking at a blade of grass as he talked. “The shrine’s a few steps from here. If you think you can go further, I could take you all the way to the temple. It’s just an hour’s walk.”
Junja studied her feet with regret. “I don’t think I should walk too much more today. And I should be helping out with dinner soon.” She wished she could say yes. “Maybe you could take me another time.”
“Does that mean you’ll be visiting again?” The boy asked his question so quickly that Junja became flustered.
“I don’t know. That would depend on my mother. She was supposed to come, but I convinced her to let me take the trip instead. I’ve never been to Hallasan before.”
“You’ve never seen the Five Hundred Generals up close?” Suwol pointed toward the distant ridge of craggy boulders that seemed to be gazing out to sea.
This was the first time Junja had come close enough to see the rock pillars guarding Jeju’s southern coastline. Grandmother often told stories about them, claiming that the boulders housed the spirits of the warrior sons of Jeju’s creator, a giantess who formed the entire island in just seven bursts of effort. The giantess had died while cooking her sons one final meal. When the sons learned of her sacrifice, their grief had hardened them into stone. Junja bent her head toward them in respect.
“The monks say that the Five Hundred Generals aren’t warriors at all, but sages who reached full enlightenment.” Suwol knew that Junja was thinking of the story that every child on Jeju grew up hearing. “That’s why they built the temple up there, because they consider the area sacred.”
“My grandmother says that every family has their own story about the stones, but that they’re all similar enough to be the same.” Junja, who had finished wrapping her feet, stood up. She walked next to the boy for a better view of the rock pillars.
Suwol looked at the girl beside him. Her eyes were shining, and the brightness of her smile made him grin. “Whatever the truth is, there’s definitely something unusual about them. I’ve climbed up to see them many times and met people with strange and wondrous stories.”
“What kind of stories?”
“Some people have heard the pillars talk. Others have seen faces appear, or felt warm tears on the surface.”
Stones, Grandmother had taught Junja, housed all sorts of spirits, usually benevolent. “Do people really travel all the way up there?” After the distance she had walked, Junja found it hard to believe that some people went even further.
Suwol nodded. “Lots of people—not just the monks. There’s a meditation hut near the peak that the monks allow everyone to use. The view up there is even better, but it’s another half day’s walk from here.”
A buzzing whine interrupted their conversation. Both Junja and the boy shielded their eyes and squinted.
A gray airplane hung low in the sky, trailing a line of dirty smoke.
Suwol suppressed a curse. “That’s the second one this week.” He frowned as he watched the plane’s passage toward the water.
“Is it Chinese?” Until a few years ago, all the war machines had been Japanese.
The boy shook his head. “American.”
The plane cast its shadow on the sea, a black twin that rippled on the water.
“What’s it doing?” Junja felt chilled by the sight.
“Searching.”
“For what?”
“For something that isn’t there.”
Suwol glared at the airplane until it dipped under the horizon. He stayed silent for so long that Junja decided to make her way back to the house, to ask about helping with dinner. Just as she took a step away, Suwol remembered himself.
“Come, let’s go to the shrine.”
* * *
The mountain shrine was a smooth ledge protruding from a mossy seam of rock that looked like it had been cleft in two by a giant’s ax. Junja could hear water running below the surface, under jagged boulders piled atop each other as though they had tumbled from a great height. Tendrils of vine and fern fell from both sides of the gully, like green waterfalls spilling from rocks. Sunlight beamed through the trees, illuminating every tiny insect and mote in the air.
“This is the same spring that feeds our wells,” Suwol said, confirming Junja’s guess. “The water comes close to the surface here before diving back deep underground.” Suwol bowed toward the ledge in respect. “When it rains, or if the goddess is moody, the shrine is hidden behind a waterfall.”