The Tuntian Garrison
The snow-covered plain stretched endlessly in white, blurring the boundary between sky and earth. Even the sunlight seemed frozen by the cold, clear as a sheet of glass. A northern wind swept unhindered across the vast field, as if determined to erase every trace of the world. It struck the entrance of the wooden palisade beside the tuntian garrison with violent force, making a harsh sound like a spear smashing against a shield.
On this unlucky day of biting cold, Sosam stood guard. He hunched like a bear, pulling his padded cotton coat tightly around himself before tucking his spear beneath his arm. Even holding the weapon was difficult in this cold. Across from him, Dongjin had curled into himself like a snowman and barely moved. On days like this, standing close together helped. But this was the main gate of the palisade; they had to guard from both sides. Endurance was the only method.
He had layered his clothes heavily before leaving the quarters, sealing every gap where wind might enter. The sun hung lazily in the southern sky, offering no warmth at all. Days like this were the hardest. Snowfall was better. When the snow stopped and the wind calmed, the entire world froze solid, as though even the air would shatter with a sharp crack.
I must live.
Sosam began moving. With the spear tucked at his side, he stomped his feet and jogged in place, waiting for warmth to rise from within. He ran sideways, then jumped into the air again and again. That was when he saw it—a tiny moving shadow far in the distance.
"What is that?"
Questions must be short. Actions must be swift. That was the first rule of survival.
But he could not be certain. Even narrowing his eyes, the shape refused to clarify. It was too far, too small. The bright sunlight reflected off the white snow, making even nearby objects difficult to distinguish. Something awkward was rising and falling repeatedly, slowly moving toward them. Not an animal. Too small. Too slow. It looked like a person.
At a glance, it seemed to crouch and wrap itself tight, then move a little when unobserved. But the shape was not that of a barbarian rider. It was the small shadow of a human being. The endless white plain rose and dipped, and the movement was slowing.
"What is that…"
There was no answer to the question lingering on his lips. He stopped running and grasped the spear leaning beside him. Even through thick gloves twice the size of his hands, the cold of the shaft seeped through, numbing his arms. Still, watching the slow writhing shadow, gripping the spear was all he could do. Even speaking felt troublesome. The wind that slipped between parted lips made his gums ache in an instant.
He jerked his chin toward his companion.
"Dongjin! Look over there. What is that thing in front?"
Dongjin turned slowly, as if annoyed at being disturbed, then his eyes widened. The icy wind struck his exposed face, drawing tears to his eyes. He blinked rapidly.
"Looks like a person."
The pale figure stood, then fell again, inching toward the military encampment of Haran. No one came here. No one could. Only barbarian cavalry or the merciless winter winds crossed these plains. Even the Baekryong Unit returning from patrol never entered from this side; they used the rear by the stables.
"A person… Let's go."
"We have to hold this post."
"At that rate, he won't make it here… Looks small. A child?"
"Confirm first… then report. You go report."
"Fine."
Dongjin squeezed his bulky body through the narrow opening of the gate and ran inside. In the army, reporting was life itself. He delivered the news, and from the small wooden guard hut emerged the white-haired centurion, crawling out irritably. His pig-like head stuck out past the gate, annoyance clear on his face. It was too cold for trouble. Nothing should happen on a day like this.
He shaded his eyes and peered into the distance.
"It's a person. Small, though… You two! Bring him in."
"Yes, sir."
The order had been expected. The centurion fought well but was simple-minded; everyone knew what he would say next. Something was reported, so naturally he ordered it brought in.
The two men trudged through the snow. Too much had fallen during the night. At first the snow reached their ankles; farther out, it swallowed their thighs. Each step was a struggle. They would never have done this for themselves. But it was an order.
A small boy lay collapsed in the snow.
Though his frozen body kept moving, he made no progress forward. Like a turtle, he writhed on his belly, unable to advance even an inch. He seemed unconscious, yet his body continued to crawl. How he had made it this far was a mystery. Now he could no longer stand. His strength was gone. Left alone, he would freeze to death. Perhaps he already had. He rolled in the snow until he looked like a snowman.
Wrapped tightly in cloth and padded layers, his face was hidden. But his frame was barely more than half of Sosam's size.
They hoisted him between them and began the long return.
As they walked, the boy muttered faintly.
"Haran's Great General… Jin Mugwang…"
His frozen lips moved repeatedly, whispering the same words as if chanting a spell or reciting scripture. He did not seem conscious—merely repeating what he had been muttering all along.
"Did that brat just speak casually? Jin Mugwang? Like they're friends?"
Sosam muttered jokingly even now. Dongjin slapped the back of his head. The sound cracked sharply in the cold air; the one who struck seemed to hurt more.
"Ah! That hurts, damn it!"
"Is that the time for jokes?"
The boy's condition was grave. His body was crusted with ice and snow. Delay would mean death. Even the small movements that proved he still lived began to fade. Soon he went limp like a corpse.
"So… it is true. Jin Mugwang. Does he think the Great General is his buddy?"
"That's not what he means, you fool…"
They lifted the boy properly this time. Though bundled thickly, he was lighter than expected. A child's body. Small. Fragile. He could not walk on his own. They carried him between them, running.
Even in the brutal cold, the two bickered quietly.
"Don't slack off on your side."
"You don't slack off, idiot."
Arguing all the while, they returned across the snow. The boy's body felt light as a feather. Frozen though he was, one glance at his tightly shut face suggested he was no more than thirteen or fourteen.