And so she sat, as inconspicuous as possible. As the stalks and blades rustled against her, rough and pointy, she remembered the marvelously silky grasses she had run through so happily on her first Strange Land journey. Maybe they only existed around jureum trees, or maybe it was she who had changed.
Shifting her weight, she felt a lump in one coat pocket. Her cell phone. Without thinking, she took it out, and flipped it open. (Flipped? Who still has flip phones? Only her, it seemed). Unthinking, she pressed the “on” key and, after a pause, the phone hummed and lit up. The logo danced across the screen as the phone dragged itself back to life.
The power bar had just one small, red bar. Not much at all. The big clock-calendar was a confused jumble of almost times and nearly dates. Poor thing can’t figure out where or when it is. No messages either. Same useless hunk of plastic as ever. But just as she was about to power down, there it was—just for a moment and just one tiny bar—a brief flicker of reception. A glitch? An electronic spazz-out? Not daring to get her hopes up, she pressed the “4” key. Speed dial. For home.
Ten blips sang as the phone counted out her phone number. Then silence. This is stupid. She looked out across the hills with the phone cupped to her ear, but heard nothing. Maybe I should have dialed it like an international call, she joked to herself. But just as she was ready to give up, there came a click. Followed by a buzz, a whirring, and then a ring. A ring! Young-hee couldn’t believe it. But just as quickly, she thought, What can I possibly I say?
“Hello?” The answering voice was distant, distorted and staticky. But it was clearly mom. “Young-hee? Is that you?” Young-hee froze, suddenly too happy and too heartbroken to speak. “Hello? Hello?” the voice repeated, each word more urgent.
“M-Mom?” said Young-hee at last.
“Young-hee?” the voice repeated, a wash of relief audible even over the bad connection. “Young-hee, where are you? Where on ea… ... you been?”
“Mom? Yes, it’s me. I’m here.”
“Young-hee? … can’t … … clearly.”
“Mom? Can you hear me? It’s Young-hee.”
“I can’t … ....”
“I’m okay. I’m here.”
“… sta… … Where’s Young-beom?”
“Mom, I’m trying to get Young-beom back. I promise.”
“Where’s Young-beom?” Even through the static, her mom sounded panicked.
“He’s with me, kind of. I mean, he was. It’s a little hard to explain, but I promise I’ll bring him back soon.”
“… don’t … … -ation … … a … ever!”
“I said, I promise I’ll bring him back do you. Mom?”
“What do you mea… …?!”
“Mom? Can you hear me? Mom?” Cut off, Young-hee immediately hit redial. The numbers beeped, but then only silence. She hit end, then redial. And again. But before the digits finished counting, the sounds stopped and the screen faded to black. Out of power. “No!” she cried at her phone. “No, no, no. Mom, I’m so sorry.” Feelings flooded across her like waves in a storm—misery, longing, guilt, anger, ache, despair, helplessness. She couldn’t distinguish one from another, but they all hurt too deeply to contain. She was crying. “Mom …,” she said.
She wasn’t sure how long she lay in the grass—only that she was nearly cried out—when she thought she heard a strange noise. Another ghost? But no, someone else was weeping, calling for help. “Hello?” came the sad voice, deep and rumbling. “Terrible, how terrible… Is anybody up there?”
“Uh, just me,” said Young-hee, seeing no one. A light breeze swished the grass and tickled the zelkova leaves, but otherwise all was still. “I don’t see you, whoever you are.” Up in the tree, the mismatched birds gazed silently down.
“I’m over here,” said the voice unhelpfully.
“Here?”
“I’m under the ground, in a trap. Between the thick grass and the big tree.”
“That sounds dreadful. I’m coming,” she said, adding, “I hope I don’t fall in, too.”
She crept through the grass, testing each step, in case of more traps. Under the hulking, arching zelkova, there it was—a big hole, partially obscured by reeds. Young-hee peered carefully over the edge. It wasn’t what she expected. “Hey, you’re a tiger!”
“Indeed, I am Tiger,” said the big cat, obviously embarrassed. He was a large tiger, at least in Young-hee’s opinion, and the hole was barely larger than his bulk, but deep enough that he couldn’t get out. His ears lay back against his head, and his tail slinked limply behind. “If you would be so nice, please help me out before the villagers who dug this trap find and kill me.”
“There’s a long coil of rope here.”
“Probably the villagers left it to string me up.”
Young-hee tied one end around the tree, but before she threw the other end down the pit, she stopped and frowned. She had been tricked before. “What a minute. You aren’t going to eat me as soon as I help you out of that pit, are you?”
“Oh, no. That would not be nice of me at all. I would owe you my life.”
“You promise not to eat me?”
“Of course.”
Her forehead wrinkled with stress as she decided, then tossed one end of rope down the tiger trap. Young-hee knew real world tigers cannot climb ropes, but neither could they (or frogs or rabbits or bony skulls) talk. Indeed, this Strange Land tiger spilled out of the hole with a lumbering, undignified scamper, falling heavy onto his back. He growled with joy and wriggled in the grass, scratching his back. “Oh, thank you, thank you,” he said. “I was certain that the villagers would find me, mount my head above a door, and use my fur as a blanket. Terrible.” Tiger rolled over onto his feet. “I must say, I was stuck quite a long time,” he said, his voice rumbling deep. He walked slowly and deliberately toward Young-hee. “Several days, alone in the dark, not knowing when my life would end. With nothing at all to eat.”
“Er, I’m sure my friend, when he gets back, will help you get something to eat,” said Young-hee with a nervous laugh as she backed away from Tiger just as deliberately. “He’s the Samjogo. Do you know him? Three-legged bird of power. He’s very protective of me.”
“I’m sure he is,” said Tiger, who suddenly sprang forward and wrapped himself around Young-hee like a kitten cozying the feet of its owner. A very, very large kitten. A very, very hungry kitten. “But I am so very hungry. And you do look quite delicious.”
“But you promised.” She felt growing panic, and scanned the hills for Samjogo.
“Well, perhaps. But I am a tiger, after all. I can only act according to my nature.”
“You said you owed me your life.”
“And now I am starving. So perhaps you can help me a second time. One last time.”
“That’s so … rude,” sputtered Young-hee, who suddenly found herself more angry than scared. “Besides, you could never hurt me. I’m far too powerful for you.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Tiger, looking Young-hee all over. “Your teeth are small and flat, your claws are weak, your body is tiny.”
“You cannot judge so easily—you know that, Tiger. I have a, uh, a mandate from the … King of Heaven.” She struggled to remember things she had heard in Strange Land, anything intimidating. “My arms may look skinny, but they were, um, gifts from the, uh, Monkey King.”
“Your arms came from Seonokong?”
“Yes, Seonokong the great Monkey,” said Young-hee, trying to sound confident, remembering an old comic book, but feeling mostly silly. But silly was better than eaten, so she dove in. “And my bag contains great fire, a gift from the Ten Kings of Hell. Very hot.” Ten Kings of Hell? Where did I come up with that?
“Ooh, I do not like fire,” said Tiger, backing down slightly, but still staring with menace.
Just then, in the distance, Young-hee saw people walking up the hill toward them. Farmers perhaps, dressed in off-white, simple hanbok and carrying farm tools. Whoever they were, they wer
e probably her best chance. “Come on,” she semi-commanded. “Follow me as I attack those villagers—the ones who imprisoned you, no doubt—and you will see my powers.”
Young-hee moved with a confident stride just ahead of Tiger. She wasn’t sure how Rabbit pulled off this part in the folk stories, but she concentrated on keeping herself between Tiger and the approaching people. The tall reeds partially concealed Young-hee and her furry companion but the villagers finally spotted them, stopped walking, pointed and grew ever more animated. Young-hee just kept walking, closer and closer with Tiger right behind. When a hundred meters separated them, the farmers’ frantic cries filled the air. Young-hee kept walking, and the villagers broke into an all-out run, scattering every which way.
As they stampeded, they shouted: “Tiger!” and Young-hee glanced nervously at her companion. His furry ears pricked up, and his yellow eyes narrowed as he listened to the panic wailing. Tiger was not the most brilliant creature in Strange Land, but his hearing was sharp. Rabbit never faced this problem. But out of her racing mind jumped an idea “See? There’s your proof,” she said, trying to look composed and serious. “They’re yelling ‘Die, girl!’ They’re terrified of me.”
He stared right into Young-hee’s eyes, weighing her words—until suddenly his gaze broke. “Yes, I can see how frightened they are of you! I had no idea. Please forgive me and do not punish my impudence.” He stretched out his front paws and lowered his head to the ground, bowing.
“You’ve had a terrible time, with the trap and all. I accept your apology this one time,” said Youngee, hiding her shaking hands. She couldn’t believe the old story worked.
“That was impressive.” Young-hee spun around and saw Samjogo leaning against a nearby rock, hyeopdo in hand, grinning.
“You saw that?”
“Yes, I was on my way back, when I saw you and Tiger ‘talking.’ I was ready to intervene, but you had the matter well in hand.”
“I was so …” She let her thought trail as she directed a glance at Tiger.
“Rabbit couldn’t have done better,” Samjogo reassured. If he noticed her red eyes and runny nose, he said nothing, instead turning to Tiger. “Greetings, Tiger. I see that you’ve already met the mighty Young-hee and gotten a taste of her power.”
“Ya-oong,” said Tiger sheepishly, covering his eyes with a huge paw. “Yes, she was kind enough to help me, and although I rewarded her generosity with betrayal, she forgave me.”
“And don’t you forget it,” scolded Samjogo.
“I only did it because I was so very hungry I couldn’t think straight.”
Young-hee felt bad for the silly cat. “I’m sorry, Tiger. I would share my food with you, but I don’t think Tigers eat rice and vegetables.”
“We don’t, ya-oong, but thank you.”
“Young-hee, I think we should be going,” urged Samjogo. “Now that he’s out of the trap, I’m sure Tiger will find food soon enough.”
“But what if that ‘something’ is a villager? Or Rabbit?”
“Tiger has been trying to catch Rabbit since the dawn of time. I don’t think there’s much danger of that. He’s not exactly the freshest kimchi in the ong-gi pot.” He turned to Tiger. “No offense.”
Young-hee’s face lit up. “You know, when those farmers ran away, they some dropped their bags. I bet they had food in them.”
They hurried over, and sure enough, there were two bags, along with many sticks, hats, and a nice long pipe. They first bag had wrapped rice balls and pickled vegetables. But the second held thick pieces of thick-cut samgyeopsal meat. “They must have been going on some kind of picnic,” noted Young-hee.
There was plenty of meat for a team of farmers, but not so much for a hungry tiger. While Tiger ate gratefully, and Young-hee and Samjogo enjoyed some kaypal gimbap, Samjogo told about the Egg Ghost. “She escaped, I’m sad to say. And once she tells the Ghost Queen, we’re going to have trouble. So I think we need to get going.”
“The Ghost Queen?” said Tiger, shaking his head. “If she is after you, then all the ghosts must be coming. I wouldn’t like that at all.”
“Yeah, it’s not fun,” said Young-hee.
“Well, thank you, Tiger, for your company,” said Samjogo, as he packed the remaining food. “We must be going if we are to stay ahead of the ghosts. Please, in the future, try to stay out of traps.”
“Yes, and thank you again for your kindness.” Tiger took a couple of tentative steps, but didn’t look in a hurry to get anywhere.
“Wait, don’t go,” said Young-hee.
“What?” said Samjogo.
“Maybe he’d like to come with us.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. He already tried to eat you once.”
“Yes, I know. But I was thinking about all the Tiger stories I know, and, the thing is, they are all pretty short. He gets tricked, he runs away. Or he eats a traveling monk or something. But none say what happens next. There are no stories about Tiger living his life, making friends, hanging out. If he sticks around, he wouldn’t be bound by those stories. He would be free to do anything, be anything.”
Both Tiger and Samjogo looked at Young-hee as if she were crazy.
“It was just a thought,” she said, deflated. “I thought we could use the muscle. And another friend.”
“Why, may I ask, are all the ghosts chasing you?” asked Tiger.
“I don’t even know,” said Young-hee, as they found the path. “I think it has something to do with my quest to find a pullocho for a goblin, to get my brother back. But no one knows where pullochos are. So for now I’m trying to find the three animal spirit women. I’m told they can help.”
“And that is why we must get going,” said Samjogo, pulling the arrow from the path and putting it in the quiver on his shoulder. “We have get as far away as possible before the ghosts come back. Plus there’s no telling how long before we find the animal spirits.”
Tiger looked at Young-hee and Samjogo as they started down the path. “But I know where the animal ladies live,” said Tiger. “I could take you there.”
How Tiger Got His Stripes
One day Rabbit was hopping home, when suddenly hungry Tiger sprang from the grass and said he would eat Rabbit.
“Why would you want to eat me?” asked Rabbit. “I’m far too small for a big animal like yourself.”
“You may be small,” said Tiger, “but I am ever so hungry. So I must eat you.”
“But I have a better idea. All around us in the tall grasses, there are dozens of swallows. Hundreds. If you open your mouth and just wait here, I will run through the grass making a huge racket and scare them all right into your mouth. Dozens of swallows would make a much better meal than just one little Rabbit, don’t you think?”
Tiger thought about it and had to agree that the birds sounded a lot bigger and better. He nodded.
“Okay,” said Rabbit, “just stay here, close your eyes, and open your mouth as wide as possible. When you hear the big rustling noise all around you, you will know the birds are on their way.”
So silly Tiger did just what he was told and closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Rabbit went hopping through the grass, but instead of scaring the birds, he lit the grass on fire all around Tiger and then ran away. The flames leapt higher and higher, with a great crackling noise. “Oh boy,” thought Tiger, as he heard the crackling getting louder, “that sounds like the flapping wings of a lot of birds. This will be a great meal.”
But as the flames closed in on Tiger, he began to notice how hot it was getting. He opened his eyes and realized he had been tricked, and was barely able to escape the blaze. To this day, Tiger’s fur remains singed black from Rabbit’s trick.
Young-hee and Samjogo stopped at Tiger’s words and turned around. “You know the animal spirits?” asked Young-hee, surprised to get some good-ish news for once.
“Fox, Bear, and Snake, yes, I know them,” said Tiger. “They live a couple of hills away. If we walk qu
ickly, we could get there by dusk.”
“That’s wonderful. See, another good reason for Tiger to join us.”
“I just wish we could trust him,” said Samjogo. “For instance, how does he know where the animal sisters live?”
“A good question,” said Young-hee, and was about to ask Tiger when she remembered they were being chased. “But shouldn’t we hurry before the ghosts return? We can question Tiger as we walk and go our separate ways if we don’t like his answers.” Tiger cocked his head and purred.
“Tiger, we thank you for your generous offer,” said Samjogo, “and hope you will not hold our wariness against us. But we need to leave.”
“Of course,” said Tiger, his face lighting up as he bounded ahead, his tail swishing fancifully. “Come with me then.” And they did. Young-hee shrugged and adjusted her bag; Samjogo scanned the hills and horizon for ghosts.
After walking alone through the woods and cave, Young-hee found traveling with others easier and more pleasant, despite the threat from the Ghost Queen and her minions. It was an easy walk, over rolling hills, through occasional clusters of palms and elms, more baroque than any in Korea. They moved quickly and made good time.
“The ghosts or whoever can’t follow us?” Young-hee asked again.
“No, this is your path,” said Samjogo. “No one can see it when they cannot see you.” But Young-hee noticed that Samjogo kept looking about nervously.
Soothed by the gentle landscape and great varieties of birds, Young-hee, nonetheless, thought about the animal sisters. Could they locate a pullocho? What made them so special and worrisome?
At least Tiger was in good spirits, walking briskly, but not going too far ahead. Although not as talkative as Samjogo, he made pleasant conversation. “That village over there is famous for its spiced makgeolli,” he would say. Or “That valley past the rocky cliff was where the dokkaebi rebellion once hid, until the Thunder General and his army drove them back to their ashen home.” It is hard to believe he tried to eat me, thought Young-hee. But then Tiger added, “I’m not always so silly. I’m sure you could find tales of my prowess—eating a minor immortal or a wicked priest.” Okay, so maybe not that hard to believe. Young-hee grew comfortable with Tiger. Perhaps he was like most cats, which can ingratiate themselves once they decide to be friendly.
Young-hee and the Pullocho Page 16