Chapter 4
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Atami and Sima provided her with additional supplies: dried meat, fuel, and a better pair of snowshoes.
"Following this direction, walk for about two days, and you'll reach the rendezvous point," Atami said, pointing to the distant mountains. "Never turn toward the valley, no matter what you hear or see."
Anna thanked them for their help, promising to send someone back to repay them once she reached safety.
As she turned to leave, Sima pressed a small leather pouch into her hand.
"What is this?" Anna asked.
"A protection charm. It contains herbs and... other things. If you feel drawn to change your direction, smell it. The scent will remind you of who you are."
Anna nodded gratefully and tucked the small pouch into her inner pocket.
She bade farewell to these mysterious yet friendly people and set off on the final leg of her journey.
The first half of the day went relatively smoothly. The weather improved, visibility was good, and Anna could occasionally see the sun's blurry halo in the grayish-white sky.
She steadily advanced in the direction Atami had indicated, checking her compass from time to time—still malfunctioning, but at least now she had a clear direction.
However, in the afternoon, things began to turn strange.
First, she heard the bell sound—like the one she had heard before, but this time there was no crowd, no ceremony, just a lonely bell echoing across the empty snow plain.
Anna stopped, trying to locate the source of the sound, but it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
She remembered the leather pouch Sima had given her. She pulled it out and sniffed it. A pungent herbal scent mixed with something smoky filled her nostrils. Remarkably, the bell sound seemed to diminish.
Anna continued forward, more vigilant now. An hour later, she spotted a human figure—a silhouette moving in the distance, someone wearing what looked like an old-fashioned fur coat.
She called out. The figure stopped, turned toward her, waved, then continued on its way.
Was it someone from the tribe? Another hiker? Anna hesitated, wondering whether to follow. But the person was walking slightly off her route, toward the valley.
She sniffed the leather pouch again. The figure seemed to blur for a moment, then vanished completely.
"Hallucination," Anna muttered to herself. "Oxygen deprivation, fatigue, stress-induced hallucination." But she didn't entirely believe her own explanation.
At dusk, Anna decided to make camp. She found a relatively sheltered spot, laboriously set up her tent, and lit a small fire to melt snow for water.
While eating dinner, she heard sounds from afar—not the wind, but like many people talking simultaneously, though she couldn't make out what they were saying.
Just like in her dream.
Anna tried to ignore these sounds and crawled into her sleeping bag early. But sleep proved elusive; she lay there listening to the noises outside: the howling wind, the rustling branches, and... those faint, indistinct conversations.
Suddenly, a clear voice cut through the other sounds: "Anna."
She sat up abruptly. The voice sounded exactly like her mother's—but her mother was thousands of miles away in Seoul, with no idea she was here.
"Anna." Another call, this time in her ex-boyfriend Mark's voice.
They'd broken up two years ago. The last time they'd met was at a subway station in Seoul, where Mark had said "you always push yourself too hard," and she'd replied "I just enjoy hiking." They hadn't spoken since.
Anna covered her ears, but the voice seemed to come from inside rather than outside, like a thin needle piercing into her mind.
What was more terrifying was that outside the tent, on the snow, a blurry figure gradually appeared—her mother, wearing the red down jacket Anna had bought her last year, holding a thermos, standing in the snow waving at her.
"Anna, come out quickly, mom brought you some hot soup." Her mother's voice was gentle, exactly as it had been at the airport before she'd departed. Then too, her mother had held this thermos, saying "it's the seaweed soup you love, heat it up and drink it on your journey."
Anna's heart skipped a beat.
God, she missed hot soup so much, missed her mother's gentle nagging, missed the cozy warmth of her home in Seoul.
Her hand had already found the zipper of the tent, fingertips feeling the cold metal—just pull it open, and she could throw herself into her mother's arms and have that hot soup.
Just then, her fingers brushed against the leather pouch in her inner pocket. Sima's words echoed in her ears: "If you feel drawn to something, want to change direction, smell this. The scent will remind you who you are." She snapped back to reality, trembling as she pulled out the leather pouch, untied the string, and inhaled deeply. A pungent herbal smell mixed with smokiness rushed into her nostrils—like burnt pine needles with a hint of bitterness, instantly clearing her mind.
Looking outside the tent again, her mother's figure had become blurry, like mist scattered by the wind.
"Anna, don't go..." Her mother's voice grew fainter and fainter, finally disappearing into the howling wind.
Anna slumped against the tent wall, breathing heavily, her palms slick with cold sweat.
She remembered her impulse just moments ago, and a chill ran down her spine—what would have happened if she had unzipped the tent? She dared not think about it.
She clutched the leather pouch tightly in her hand like a lifeline, repeatedly murmuring: "I am Anna Kim. I need to reach the rendezvous point. I need to go home."
Anna covered her ears, but the voices seemed to come from within rather than from outside.
She felt a strong urge to leave the tent and walk toward the source of the voices. The valley was calling her. Novak was calling her.
She took out Sima's leather pouch and deeply inhaled its pungent smell. The urge weakened but didn't completely disappear.
"This is just an illusion," she told herself loudly. "An illusion caused by fatigue. Stick to the route. Don't deviate."
But that night, Anna barely slept. Various sounds kept disturbing her: calls of her name, familiar laughter, even the barking of the little dog she'd had as a child.
Each time, she resisted the urge to go outside by focusing on the smell of her leather pouch and her firm resolve.
When dawn arrived, Anna was exhausted, but her determination was stronger than ever. She packed up her camp and continued forward. This was the last day; if all went well, she would reach the rendezvous point tomorrow.
The morning passed quietly, with no unusual sounds or visions. Anna began to hope that the worst was behind her—until the afternoon when she saw the little boy.
He stood not far away in the birch forest, about seven or eight years old, wearing thin clothing unsuitable for the season, crying. Anna stopped and watched him warily.
"Hello?" she called out tentatively. "Do you need help?"
The boy raised his head, his face blurry like an image seen through frosted glass. "I'm lost." His voice was faint, wavering in the wind.
Anna's heart clenched. Although she knew this was likely another hallucination, the child's appearance made it impossible for her to simply walk away.
"Where did you come from?" she asked.
The boy pointed toward the valley. "Novak. I can't find my way home."
Anna took a deep breath, pulled out her leather pouch and sniffed it. The boy's image flickered like poor television reception but didn't disappear.
"Please," the boy cried, "I'm cold."
As Anna hesitated, she noticed something: there were no footprints in the snow around the boy. He stood in deep snow, yet had left no trace.
This wasn't a real person. It couldn't be.
"I'm sorry," Anna whispered, then resolutely turned away and continued along her planned route.
She heard a disappointed sigh from behind, followed by whispers, as if many voices were speaking at once.
When she looked back, the boy had vanished.
