Ballad of the Mountain Fox

제 21 장: Two Dirges and a Revelation

I gave the paintbrushes a decent funeral by the side of the road, just outside the village.  Then I wondered if I was going soft—not just for being sentimental and holding a funeral for fox and marten remains, but because the thought of killing the painter hadn't even crossed my mind until that moment.  All day, it seemed, I hadn't been my usual self.  I even found myself missing the company of the traveling performers.

And then there was the troublesome matter of the nobleman, whose face continued to surge to the forefront of my mind.  Just closing my eyes, I could picture him exactly as I had last seen him, standing straight and tall in the dappled morning shade of the inn's courtyard, deep brown eyes not quite hiding his secret pain as well as he hoped.

I shook my head and headed back to the village.  There was a curse to break and a debt to repay.  I could worry about my own feelings later.

I focused my thoughts on Kim Nara, the demanding little troublemaker who seemed to have some misplaced sense of overbearing selflessness—well, at least when it came to that Young Min.  In her demands with me, she had certainly been as selfish as she wished.  Do this, do that—all I had asked for was to be freed, and she loaded down her side of the bargain as much as she pleased.  Did she think I was a wish-granting water dragon?

I bit back a growl at the thought.  But no, when it came to her precious nobleman, Nara was as selfless as could be.  Helping him alleviate his curse, agreeing to be tied up and accused of thievery, then thrown in prison—it seemed she would do anything for him.

Really, I was the one doing all the work.  And she would get all the credit.

The rooftops of the village came into view, and I stopped suddenly, frowning.  Was I...jealous?

I shook my head again and set off at a brisk pace, angling in the direction of the errant twanging and off-pitch warbling that fouled the air with its noise.

"Moon Sun!  Where have you been?"

 "Get up, you lazy louts," I snarled in reply.  The performer who had greeted me paled and shrunk back, but the rest of the men set their instruments aside, scrambling off the porch they had commandeered.  They shot to their feet so quickly that a few struggled to stand against the ensuing blood rush, blinking rapidly to clear their vision of dark spots.

"We-we were working on that song you taught us," a different performer hurried to tell me.  "But we're still not quite ready—"

"You will perform it tonight," I ordered, my glare silencing him.  "No excuses."

"We had actually been hoping to perform the new play..."

"The play can come later!"

"Of-of course."

I paced in front of the sorry row of men, most too scraggly to even make a decent snack.  Their body odor alone was enough to turn anyone's stomach.  And I had found myself actually missing their presence earlier?  They were infuriating!  What had come over me?

I finally stopped pacing and turned to face the men.  "Go wash up," I told them.  "No one's going to watch your performance when you have such a stench."

The one who had greeted me earlier hesitantly lifted an arm and sniffed under it, as if doubtful of the news of his uncleanliness.  When he got a whiff, surprise briefly flitted across his face before he quickly put his arm back down.

"Just one more practice round of the play?" a tall-ish performer pleaded.  "Then we'll wash up straight away.  It's just—we're still so nervous about getting it right..."

I exhaled loudly, glaring at him so fiercely that he couldn't help but grimace.

"Is this that virgin ghost story you lot talk about incessantly?"

All down the line, jerky, hesitant nods greeted my question, fearful of my reaction.  After a moment's deliberation, I flounced over to the porch and sat down.  They turned to face me with wide eyes.

"Well, let's see it, then," I said, gesturing to the open space where I had just been standing.  "I'm curious to see if it's as good as you say it is."  Though the premise of the virgin ghost haunting my mountain set me on edge, I had confirmed with them in my own way that it was just a silly rumor, nothing more.

"Go on," I urged, shooing them with one hand as they tentatively took their places.  "Ready?  Begin."

"Once upon a time..." the bristly-chinned narrator began, "there lived a lowly soybean farmer and his wife."

Already, the first line had me yawning, but I managed to keep my eyes open.  For the most part, the actors had their lines memorized, and played their parts convincingly.  Yet, as the story unfolded, I began to realize that it wasn't merely a story made up from unfounded gossip, after all.  I leaned forward with renewed interest, thinking over the storyline as it progressed.  The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

Suddenly, I knew Kim Nara's great secret.

Kim Nara was the ghost that haunted this mountain.

Say whaaaaaat.

An update? From me? Yes, it's real, and no, you're not dreaming. Although it's currently 2:30 am here, so I might be. Hmm. What can I say? When the writing bug bites me, I MUST WRITE. *insert zombie noises here*

Thank you SamMaze for all your wonderful comments as you read along, they always bring a smile to my face (and all the rest of you lovely readers, too!)

So, I'd like to play a little game called: Guess Who's Point-of-View is Next. Ready? Go!

And now, goodnight, my little foxlings.