A war-horn echoed through the valley, the horsemen from the north had come. The army had fallen. Yin's mother grabbed a few of their belongings and what little coin they had, and they fled into the mountains. They traveled for many days until they came upon another village hidden in the mountains.
The villagers allowed them to settle into an abandoned house on the edge of the village. Most of their money had been used to buy the house and the land it sat on. While her mother worked the little field that came with the house, Yin was tasked with finding wild mushrooms, vegetables and anything edible they could eat.
It was not easy living in a new place with no one you know and less to eat than you had before. But Yin didn't complain, her mother didn't say anything but she knew, her father had died fighting the horsemen. It was the horsemen that made them flee their home. The horsemen that made the villagers whisper and point when she walked by.
Yin preferred to stay in the mountains foraging, she could avoid the villagers stares and fingers. She would deliberately go far away from the village so that she was away for most of the day. On one of her trips, she saw a boy sitting in a tree whistling away. She ignored him, she had seen him in the village, there was no need to give the villagers more things to talk about.
But when she moved away from him, the boy kept following her in the trees. He had picked seed pods and began throwing the seeds at her. Each time a seed hit her head he would laugh. When he didn't get much reaction from her, he began taunting her as well. This went on for sometime until Yin had had enough.
She scampered up the tree he was in, and caught hold of his shirt before he could jump away. But he was already in motion and they both started to fall, they scrambled in vain trying hold on to the tee and fell, rolling down the hill into a stream below. The boy broke into laughter, clearly enjoying their fall. Yin however, did not enjoy it and started to shout and argue with him, but he ignored her and instead threw a splash of water at her. In her frustration she returned a splash at him.
After several exchanges of splashes they both began having fun. Yin hadn't had this much fun since before the horsemen came. She had forgotten what it was like to be carefree, to not be worried how close the horsemen would be, to worry about the villagers' whispers. The boy had reminded her how to have fun, they agreed to be friends and forage the mountains together. His name was Tora. Both children were scolded by their mothers when they returned to the village, they were both soaking wet, cold and sneezing, but they had had fun.
For four years Yin and Tora stayed friends, foraging for wild mushrooms and vegetables. Tora had invited some of the other children to play with Yin too. They would forage first, then go out to play in the mountains, sledding down the slopes into the streams, chasing each other to the bluffs overlooking the village. Once they even found a small beach hidden between the rocks on the edge of the coast to the west. They'd go there and fish or just play in salty water and sand.
Then warhorns came again. They were 14 years old, Tora and the other boys just barely old enough to join the army, but they went to war. Yin returned to foraging in solitude, she always made sure to harvest enough for Tora's mother, who now lived alone. When a year passed and Tora didn't return, Yin knew he had died like her father.
Her mother tried to marry her off to an older man but she refused, and deliberately sabotaged the arrangement. It worked, but it also ruined her future chances, no man would want her as his wife and no mother would want her as a wife for their son.
As an adult Yin began working the fields alongside her mother. With less time to be idle, she didn't worry too much about feeling lonely. But whenever she had free time, she'd climb the bluffs and look out over the village, lost in thoughts of the past.
Two years passed by, and Yin's mother brought up the topic of marriage again. She intended to go to another village to find a match for Yin. Yin hated the idea of getting married, what would be the point? Her husband, like her father and Tora would go off to fight the horsemen and die. Besides, she had long decided she would not marry if her husband wasn't Tora, and he was already dead.
Yin sat on the bluffs crying early one morning, her mother had went ahead and found another match for her. She was to meet him in a few days. She thought of throwing herself from the bluffs several times, but each time she'd collapse into a crying heap on the ground.
This time she made up her mind to finally do it. She looked out over the village and whispered her apology to her mother in the wind. Before she could step off the edge, a lone figure walking towards the village caught her attention. He was tall and sturdy, the way he walked up the path disturbed her. No one walked up the path like that. No one except Tora!
Yin sprinted down the mountain, crossed the stream, cut through fields, and hopped over a fence, she never stopped or slowed down. Her thoughts racing through her mind just as she raced towards the man. So many thoughts, so many question, but one thing screamed louder than the rest. It's Tora!
When she entered the village center her eyes fell on him again and she charged him, throwing herself at him. Her arms circled his neck and he caught her as they fell to the ground. She pushed herself up looking at him, her hand shaping his face, touching his features, tracing his scars the old ones and new ones.
"Tora!"
He brushed her hair back from her face, slipping it behind her ear.
"Yin."
"Tora!"
"Yin."
Yin rested her forehead against his.
"Tora."
"Yin."
He had returned, he didn't die in the war. He had returned, just as he promised. When they got up she looked up at him. He wasn't the boy that he was when he left 3 years ago. He was a man now, he was taller than her, his voice was deeper, his hands were bigger and his arms and chest sturdy. Yin stepped back from him, she was now a woman and she was aware of him as a man.
But Tora grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. Yin shook her head, they couldn't be close as they were before, they were children then. Now they were adults, they had to be mindful of their closeness, she was going to be engaged in a few days. Yin fought down the tears stinging her eyes. Tora pulled her hand harder, drawing her close and holding her tightly.
"I have returned to take you as my wife."
Those words freed her loneliness of the last 3 years, her sadness of the past few hours. She cried and laughed in his arms, circling his waist with her arms and resting her head against his chest. He had kept his promises, he had come back from the war and he was going to make her his wife.
Tora and Yin were married, neither of their mothers objected to the union. They built a small house on the farthest edge of the village at the foot of the mountain. They worked the fields and would abandon the village whenever they were free, running through the trees and sledding down the slopes like they did in their childhood.
But the war wasn't over and one year later Tora had to leave again. It happened so suddenly he didn't make her new promise. Tora believed they were happy now. Yin was heavy with child and he looked forward to returning to see their son. He did not need to make a promise again, he knew he would return. So he left her early in the morning before she awoke.
Yin gave birth to twin sons, caring for them was difficult, but their mothers helped her, the boys were after all their grandsons. Three years Yin waited patiently, believing Tora would return as he did before. The fourth year her belief wavered but she held on, maybe he was a little late. Three more years passed and Yin realised Tora would not return this time. The rumor spreading through the towns and villages, was that the horsemen were routing the armies sent against them.
Yin wept silently away from her sons, they would never know their father. She never got to say goodbye, didn't see him leave one last time. In her grief she thought of throwing herself off the bluff, but she would always remember her sons. They would need her and she would make certain they knew of their father.
Then the king begged the horsemen for peace. Many people were angry, sons, husbands and fathers had been killed by the horsemen, the women cried for revenge. Yin too, Tora had been all of those things when they killed him. But when she looked at her sons she realised the war would take them from her too. She couldn't bear to see that happen. Perhaps the peace is best, Tora would not be avenged, but her sons will not be taken from her.
Yin told her sons stories of her childhood with Tora and the fun they had. The boys were every bit as energetic as he was. They loved the stories and loved going to the mountain and playing just the same. Often she accompanied them showing them the fun she had with Tora.
Today was one such day, Yin sat on the exposed root of a tree and watched her sons swinging on the low hanging branches, their laughter filling the air. A shadow moved in a tree and jumped to another, a familiar laughter echoed in the air along with her sons'. Another shadow ran past her and two more appeared in the trees, one throwing seeds at her and the other swinging on a high branch calling out to her. 'Come on Yin! Hurry up!' Yin laughed as tears streamed down her face.
Her tears wouldn't stop, she wanted to call out to the shadows. But she couldn't, she couldn't say his name. She bit down on her lip, fighting the urge to shout his name. Another shadow ran towards her, his hand stretched out, 'Come on!'.
"Mom come on! The sled!"
It was her younger son, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the hollowed piece of trunk. The three of them huddled into the trunk and sledded down the slope into the stream below. Then they raced up the other side to the bluffs overlooking the village. Yin watched her sons lying on the ground their chests heaving with excitement.
A gust of wind blew at them and carried with it the echoes of a war-horn. Yin looked up, down the path from the village and over the mountain, several lines of thick black smoke were rising from the next valley. War had come again.
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