Kensei Jon's Arc

Chapter 34 of 49

They crossed the river on the second day. The water ran fast and cold under a low wooden bridge. Kensei kept Ha-ni against his chest and watched his feet on the wet planks. Jeon-min went first with the pack. When they reached the far bank, the sky had turned the color of ash. "Storm," Jeon-min said. He did not soften it. He pointed at the black clouds building over the hills. "Fast one. We won't reach shelter." Kensei looked for a building and found none. Only trees and rock. The first rain came hard, cold as the river. He found an overhang where a slab of stone leaned out from the hillside. It was dry underneath. Barely wide enough for three. They crawled in. Jeon-min opened the pack. Two blankets. Kensei counted the bread with his eyes and did not like the number. Three small pieces. He said nothing about it yet. "Wrap her," Jeon-min said. He handed Kensei one blanket. Kensei folded Ha-ni into it until only her face showed. She stared up at him. The wind pulled at his red and blue road clothes, the gold cloud thread dark with rain. "Cold," Ha-ni said. She worked the word out slowly. "Wet." "I know," Kensei said. "I'm here." He kissed her forehead. She blinked at the sound of his voice and went quiet. Jeon-min pressed close against Kensei's side and pulled the second blanket over both their backs. The rain came down in sheets past the stone lip. Water ran in a line an arm's length from Kensei's foot. He put his body between Ha-ni and the open air. Jeon-min shivered against him. "You're shaking," Kensei said. "So are you." Jeon-min set his forehead against Kensei's jaw. Kensei turned and kissed his temple, then his cheek. He kept doing it, small and steady, warming the cold skin. Jeon-min let out a breath and stopped shaking so hard. "Stay awake," Jeon-min said. "Don't sleep cold." So they stayed awake. Kensei kissed Ha-ni's hair and kissed Jeon-min's cold face and kept the two of them warm between his arms and the stone. The storm ran hard for hours, then thinned to a drizzle, then stopped. Gray light came up over the wet hills. Ha-ni had slept. Jeon-min had not, but his lips were warm now. They had come through it. All three. Jeon-min crawled out and stood in the mud. He opened the pack and looked inside a long moment. "Bread's soaked," he said. He held up a piece. It fell apart in his fingers, gray paste. "Ruined. All of it." He looked north, then back at Kensei and Ha-ni. "We're two days from the border. And we have nothing to eat." Kensei looked at his daughter's face, dry and asleep against the red cloth. They were alive. And hungry, with a border still ahead.