Chapter: 15
East Wind (5)
Chung-yeon shouted toward Soram, who was engulfed in fear.
“Never let go of the reins!”
He yelled fiercely and dashed forward. But her words seemed to evade him, and Soram leapt over the paddock fence in a single bound.
The classmates who watched also yelled in alarm.
Yet the very cause of the chaos couldn’t utter a single word.
Soram buried her face, gripping the reins so tightly that her hands turned white.
The frenzied horse bolted toward the back gate, which connected to the mountain behind. The animal passed through the half-open gate and ran straight ahead.
Chung-yeon immediately mounted another horse and chased after Soram. But a horse in a calm state could not easily catch up to a target running at full speed, completely spurred by excitement.
“Geum Soram!”
His shout was also broken apart by the fierce wind.
The tiny figure lying low on the horse gradually disappeared deeper into the mountains.
“Ugh…”
The raging horse ran through a mountain path where not even a trail existed.
The world, tinted green, twisted violently, making it impossible for Soram to open her eyes properly.
Her teacher had said to never let go of the reins.
Her hands ached, her arms felt ready to fall off, and her trembling legs were barely holding her up. Her stomach churned as if all the lunch she had eaten would come back up.
“H-H-Horse…”
Even when she tried to communicate, there was no sign the animal would listen.
After all, even when she had been an otter, she could never have understood a beast like this.
Ugh…
Soram quickly shut her mouth again, suppressing the rising nausea.
It felt as though the gallop would never end.
How long had it been, in what felt like an eternity?
Finally, she sensed the horse’s movements slow down. Only then could she lift her upper body, which had been pressed down for so long.
Sitting up cautiously, she saw the dense bamboo forest around her.
The mountain seemed untouched by human footsteps, covered entirely with elongated plants.
“…Where is this?”
How far had she run? How far from the academy?
She could not detect even a trace of the academy’s scent. Opening her pale, white hands in disappointment, Soram despaired.
At that moment, the horse, almost at a standstill, coughed out a low sound—unlike any usual neighing.
“Wh-what’s wrong?”
Even someone unfamiliar with beasts could see it was uncomfortable and uneasy.
The horse walked stiffly as if its legs hurt and continued to whinny impatiently.
Soon, both Soram and the horse heard a faint sound of crying. The horse picked up on it immediately and moved quickly.
They arrived at a spot where another horse lay weakly. A foal’s hind legs were tightly caught in a snare.
The horse carrying Soram circled nervously nearby. The emaciated foal struggled, tears welling in its eyes.
Even without a horse, Soram could feel it—the strong bond between them.
A bond that could never be forcibly broken.
She dismounted, holding on to the saddle for support. Her legs, barely touching the ground, trembled.
“Your child?”
When she asked, the beast paused as if to answer.
Looking back and forth, both the foal and the adult horse had identical crescent-shaped white marks on their foreheads.
Their eyes, pleading for help, focused on Soram.
“You ran all the way here to save your child.”
The woman nodded, matching the intensity of that gaze.
“My brothers were once caught in a snare too. Our parents helped them then.”
Rolling up her sleeves, she approached the foal.
“Back then, as an otter, it was very hard… but now that I’m human, it’ll be easier. I’ll help you for sure!”
With a determined declaration, Soram reached out without hesitation.
The trapped beast thrashed violently, using its last strength. The tighter it struggled, the deeper the snare dug into its ankle.
“Don’t move. Endure it, even if it hurts a little.”
Seeing the red blood seep beneath the caked blood, Soram flinched.
As she worked to loosen the snare, she immediately put her hand in the gap, anxious.
The thick rope bit sharply into her palm, but even when the foal kicked, she didn’t retreat.
After a while of struggling, she managed to completely untie the knot.
Freed from the trap that had restrained it for days, the foal staggered to its feet.
It immediately ran to its mother, pressing close.
“Thankfully, its muscles and bones seem unharmed.”
Soram watched them with a satisfied expression.
“Geum Soram!”
The urgent sound of galloping hooves came, and a familiar voice called her, approaching fast.
It was Chung-yeon, who had barely followed her traces.
Jumping down from his horse, he immediately faced Soram.
“Teacher…”
“Any injuries?”
Chung-yeon closely examined her as she trembled and shook.
From a distance, he had thought she was covered in dirt from falling off, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
Except for her pale complexion and scraped palms, there were no major injuries.
“Last time it was the back of your hand… now it’s the palm, huh.”
He let out a faint sigh and took a handkerchief from his chest, wrapping her wounds with practiced ease.
As he checked the freed horse, he noticed a large pin stuck in its mane. He paused briefly, then quietly removed it and stored it in his sleeve.
Then Chung-yeon tried to put Soram on the horse he had come on. She flinched and stepped back, her eyes filled with distrust.
“I’ll hold the reins from below.”
“Bu-but…”
Soram was scared. Still afraid. Her chest still ached.
At the same time, her limbs felt heavy. Strangely, she could breathe more easily.
Just like the first time she had seen her savior.
Looking at Chung-yeon, a sense of relief washed over her.
Her voice trembled, warmth rising in her throat, choking her.
Strange. This person is neither family nor friend.
Not even the old lady who once helped me, yet why do I feel so glad? And why do tears come despite that gladness?
“I-I…”
Her lips moved slightly, and finally, she broke into sobs. Thick tears streamed down her contorted face.
Seeing her like that, Chung-yeon finally realized his own thoughtlessness.
Anyone would be shaken after surviving a near-death situation on a horse for the first time.
Especially when alone, holding the reins and struggling until exhausted.
Yet he had scolded her instead of comforting her. No wonder she was overwhelmed with emotion.
“…Geum Soram.”
Even after understanding, he didn’t know what to do.
He had no idea how to comfort someone frightened and crying.
Soram sniffled, trying to answer his call.
“I-I’m sorry… I thought… the horse might bolt again…”
Her fragile apology made a pang rise in his chest.
He had once been young and vulnerable too, with adults dictating everything.
No matter how cold he seemed now, he never wanted to be like them.
“You did nothing wrong.”
Since he could not recall any gentle words of comfort, he tried to speak as softly as possible.
“I’ll ride with you.”
“…Really?”
“Yes.”
He nodded lightly. Soram, staring blankly, nodded back instinctively.
Chung-yeon helped her onto the saddle, then mounted behind her.
As he grasped the reins, Soram felt his warmth on her back.
“Let’s go back. Everything’s fine now.”
He reassured her as he guided the horse.
Miraculously, the other horse and foal followed in line behind them.
The two of them, with three horses, descended at a steady pace—not too slow, not too fast.
Realizing the storm had passed, Soram no longer cried.
Instead, she found calm in the warmth and presence of her savior.
Chung-yeon, once a source of fear and discomfort, now brought her genuine relief.
She would live long enough to see this through.
“I…”
Soram found courage in his words that everything was okay.
“Have you… read my reflection report?”
