Princess Bari by Sok-yong Hwang Page B

let it happen. I poked my head out of the hut and gazed off at the pale dawn breaking on the horizon.
    I got ready to leave. I dressed warmly in layers, and on top of the farmer’s daughter’s old tracksuit, I put on a blue hooded parka made of some synthetic fabric that was likewise a hand-me-down from the daughter and zipped it up all the way to my chin. Into the canvas rucksack that our family had been using ever since Musan, I added the emergency food supply I’d spent the entire previous day preparing. I’d made gaetteok from the flour we had left and wrapped them in plastic, fried the uncooked rice and ground it into a powder and washed the single gourd’s worth of small black beans left over from the sprouts my grandmother had grown in a pan and divided into plastic baggies. Of the household items we’d acquired from the family, there were several hard plastic soda bottles. We’d used them to store water, bean paste and cooking oil. I decided to take only the water bottle.
    When I made it down the mountain and was turning the corner into the orchard, I heard the familiar sound of Chilsung’s bark. I wanted to see him before I left, so I headed toward the house instead. As soon as I came up to him, tiptoeing quietly so as not to wake the family, Chilsung wagged his tail so hard that his entire butt moved side to side. I wrapped my arms around him.
    I’m off to look for Mom and Dad , I said. Once I find them, we’ll all be together again.
    Chilsung’s response thundered inside my head.
    Bari- ya ! Take me with you! I can help! Undo the leash!
    No, wait for us here. I’ll be back in a few days.
    When I was done reasoning with him, I crossed the orchard and headed back through the forest down to the riverside path. The Tumen River was right below where I stood.
    I took off my clothes, perched the bundle on top of my head and waded into the water, waving my arms in a semblance of swimming just as I had when I was a child. When I couldn’t feel the bottom, I doggy-paddled, and when my feet touched the river bottom again, I walked. I had made it across.
    The sunrise was spreading its way down the gently sloping side of Mount Gunham, when I heard the sound of water spraying and splashing right behind me. I turned to look and there was Chilsung, shaking water off of his coat. He’d freed himself and followed me right across the river. Instead of scolding him, I untied the broken rope from his neck and tossed it away.
    We walked along the foot of the mountain, heading southeast toward the distant fields so we could avoid the village. The mountains on the North Korean side of the river were bare except for green shoots – they’d been stripped clean of trees for firewood, or for planting terraced fields. I didn’t know how to get to Puryong, but I’d heard that it was on the way to Chongjin, where I’d grown up. I figured I might find a freight train loaded with ore somewhere along the way. Chilsung and I walked aimlessly under the blazing sun.
    *
    The next part was like a long dream. Whenever we spotted a passer-by, Chilsung and I would quickly hide in the bushes by the side of the road, or behind a rock, and wait for the person to pass. Once, we saw a mother and daughter coming toward us, but we didn’t bother to hide. They were so starved and exhausted that they didn’t even turn to look at us, let alone say anything. At the top of a hill overlooking a village, we saw the body of a man lying face-up toward the sun. His mouth was agape and his eyes were open; a little foam had seeped out of the corner of his mouth, and his lips and cheeks were dried stiff. A short distance away from the body, I saw his spirit sitting on the branch of a pine tree. He looked like a puff of smoke emerging from a chimney on a cloudy day.
    Where ya going? he asked.
    To find my parents.
    No point in that , he muttered. They’re all dead.
    I didn’t respond. His