Chapter Text
Powdery snow swirls through the air, the delicate flakes dancing along the window sill before coming to rest against the glass.
Yoongi’s hand sneaks out from under the blanket and, with one finger lazily swirling through the cold air of the hanok, he rearranges the snow flakes into a maze of crystal flowers on the window pane.
For a few more minutes he lies tucked into his warm and cosy bed, not wanting to get up and start his day. If it wasn't for his store of medicinal herbs that needed to be replenished, he would not even contemplate going halfway up the mountain today. A tap of his finger melts the ice crystals and he peers through the attic window at the tip of Seoraksan in the distance. It is still covered with snow, reaching beyond the snow line, far into the trees further down on the mountainside.
With a resigned sigh Yoongi snuggles even deeper into the blanket. Why, oh why is his store of medicines and tinctures so depleted already, although winter is far from over?
He doesn't really wonder for he knows the reason only too well. It’s because he has traded a lot of it with the people living in the village at the foot of the mountain. Winter had hit them unexpectedly hard this season and they were ill-prepared. That itself was no surprise to Yoongi, because there were barely enough people left to teach the younger generation about homemade remedies for coughs or colds, how to treat frostbite or sunburn, or how to make a charm to heal a broken heart or feeble mind.
Most of them were not interested in walking through the forest for hours and days to collect berries and leaves, to dig up roots and then bring it all back to the village to boil and steam and ferment.
Some of them no longer believed in its effectiveness and openly mocked Yoongi for being a healing witch, but a lot of them still send for his potions and tinctures when they have need of them. They just choose not to acknowledge the witch that supplies them.
He can feel himself falling into the morass of dark thoughts that always come when he thinks about the village and its inhabitants.
Enough! Today is not a day to be maudlin. It is time to get up and have some breakfast before he sets out on the trek up Seorak mountain.
With a big yawn and stretch he puts his feet on the cold floor, shivering while looking for his slippers and then slowly makes his way down the ladder into the main space of the hanok, where he brings the fire back to life with a flick of his wrist and puts a kettle of water on to boil.
His tea jar has little more than crumbs in it, a bit of dried ginger and a few sad looking wild blackberry leaves, but for now it will be enough and if his trip is successful then his stores will be replenished until spring comes.
Maybe tomorrow he might make some juk , if he is lucky to catch a hare or maybe a grouse. But for now he makes do with some dried venison that he stores in his basement, where he keeps all his food.
Before he leaves for his trip, Yoongi flicks his hand at the fire to bank the flames again until he returns tonight. The trek will not be particularly hard, but it will be long and he will probably only be back after nightfall.
The last thing to do is to put a spell on his hanok, to ward off unwanted visitors. Having to do that gives Yoongi a little sad jolt every time. He knows that there are hunters from the village that come up and check on his place whenever he leaves on a foraging trip.
Once, when he had been living in the hanok for only a few short months, he had returned from an overnight gathering excursion to collect calendula and camomile from a meadow further up in the mountains, to find that his home had been invaded.
The intruders had not broken or maliciously destroyed anything, but Yoongi could tell that they had looked at all his books and gone through his clothes, had moved around the glass jars containing the healing herbs and the vials with his tinctures and potions. The ashes in the hearth were disturbed and someone had spilled flour from the sack in the corner and left a trace of white footprints.
Yoongi shudders when he remembers that day. It had taken him a few hours to clean up the place and that night he had gone into bed feeling lonelier and more defeated than ever. It seemed that driving him out of the village hadn't been enough for the elders, they also wanted to make sure that he could not live in peace in his secluded corner of the forest.
After that incident Yoongi had put a permanent and very complicated protection spell on the hanok, even at night when he was asleep in his loft. But that was time and energy consuming to keep up and took his magic powers away from making the potions and medicines that he supplied to the village.
The irony of healing those that wished him harm was not lost on Yoongi, but over the years they had come to an unspoken truce, whereby no one came near the hanok when he was there and on the days he went foraging, a protection spell that was not too severe on his energy reserve kept trespassers away.
For now Yoongi keeps his snowshoes slung across his back, he would need to put them on further up, probably when he reached The Thumb, a large rock that protruded from the side of the mountain at an odd angle and was not only a great landmark but also exactly two hours walk from the clearing where Yoongi’s hanok stands.
With the way the sunlight hit the snow, the landscape looked like it had been powdered with diamonds. The forest is quiet in the depth of winter, the only sound comes from the creaking branches of the snow laden fir trees that seem to want to buckle under their white burden but somehow never do.
Yoongi feels small and insignificant walking amongst the imposing fir and pine trees, and the huge oaks and maples which are bare of leaves at this time of year. He knows that the forest merely tolerates him, an intruder who is here on sufferance rather than because he is truly accepted by these majestic giants that have been on this mountain since time immemorial, their stories whispered on the soft summer winds and the harsh winter storms.
Whenever he uses the forest’s resources, he is sure to ask for permission before harvesting wild garlic and mint, or collect birch and willow bark. Over the years the forest and Yoongi have come to a tacit agreement. He will not take more than he needs and in turn the giants will protect the clearing where he lives from the brunt of the winter storms, the torrential autumns rains and the scorching summer sun.
As for the animals Yoongi is sharing his habitat with, the non-hybrids are largely disinterested in him and what he does, apart from a few small song birds that build their nests in the trees surrounding the house every summer.
The large predators avoid the area, as if they sense the presence of a witch and would rather not cross him.
Another sigh escapes Yoongi. He wouldn't mind seeing a deer or racoon, hybrid or not, to come into the clearing. To see any creature that would make him forget how lonely he is. As a small boy living in the village he had often wished for more time to himself, to be able to just crawl into the hollow oak by the edge of the stream and just read one of the books that Hansong, the healer had given him to study.
And now he lives a four hour walk away from the village he grew up in, from the place that holds his best and his worst memories. Loneliness is a steady companion and so familiar that maybe he has even come to like it a little.
❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆
When he reaches The Thumb, Yoongi sits down on the rock and looks at the valley far below. He cannot see it from here, but somewhere down there, just out of sight, is the village of his childhood. Today he is glad that he is spared the sight of it. The memories of his life there are cutting him like the sharpest blade, reminding him of how things used to be and what he has lost.
With a sigh he pulls out some dried apples and a handful of walnuts and slowly nibbles on them. He is not really hungry, but even if his mind is out of sorts, his body still needs the sustenance to be able to continue the walk.
A sharp wind whips hair into his eyes and he looks up at the snow laden sky. The sun, which was out and tried to tentatively warm the air earlier when he had left home, is now nowhere to be seen. Instead the sky is dull and grey looking , with an eerie orange tinge to it that is a harbinger of the coming storm.
With a frown Yoongi looks in the direction of his hanok, which is obscured by the trees surrounding it and then up at the snowline, which is still hours away. Thankfully he will not have to go that far, only about another hour or so until he reaches the place where he knows he can dig up some of the osha root he needs.
Indecision has him rooted to the spot for a long moment. What to do? He can either continue on his journey, dig up the roots and collect fir needles in a place close by, or turn around and go back home, hoping that he will still make it before the storm hits.
He sits still, listening to himself. There is a tingling under his skin which indicates that he has enough magical energy to put a spell in place that will enable him to walk through the storm unscathed, and even if that should not entirely last until he is back home, it won't kill him to get a little wet and wind blown. He has survived worse.
With a resolute nod he puts away the leftover nuts and makes his way back to the rocky path that will lead him closer to the snow line. It is another exhausting hour before he finally arrives at the cluster of fir trees that supply him with their needles he can turn into an energy spending tonic.
How are you? It’s been a while.
The trees sway gently, in strange contrast to the ever increasing sharp wind all around him. It is as if they want to tell him they have been well, still standing in the same place they have been for hundreds of years. They don't form conscious thoughts, not like most hybrids or witches or humans he has come across, yet Yoongi has learnt over the years that they have their own language to tell him things, if he is willing to listen.
I came to collect some of your needles, if you would be so kind. My supply of tonic has run out early this year.
He walks near the first tree and looks up at them, assessing if he will have to climb up or if the branches are hanging low enough so he can collect what he needs standing on solid ground.
Can you spare me some extra needles this time?
The only answer he receives is a light dusting of snow that lands on his nose and makes him giggle. It appears his silent friends are willing to share the bounty.
He bows lightly, murmuring his thanks and sets about collecting a satchel full of the long pine needles that grow in clusters and are easy to pick. The fir needles are a little trickier because he needs quite a lot of them but cutting the unyielding branches and bringing them down the mountain is cumbersome and time consuming.
Would you be so kind?
He opens a bag made from some cheerful cotton fabric that someone had traded for some calendula salve to treat a skin irritation. He holds it under one of the bigger fir trees who have more needles to spare and waits for it to shake off some of its precious bounty. When he deems the bag full enough he just nods with a small smile and the tree stops with a last rain of green.
Thank you all, may your roots keep you bound to the earth and the woodpeckers find some other trees to torment.
His words elicit another swirl of snow as if to thank him for his well wishes.
With a sigh he continues on his way, realising how truly grey and gloomy the sky looks now that he has left the little cocoon the evergreen trees had briefly provided.
For a few minutes he battles the snow, but then decides he should better put his snowshoes on to make the ascent easier on himself. He has not much further to go before he reaches another stand of trees under which there is an abundant supply of osha roots in the ground.
When he reaches the stand of trees where the osha grows, he taps the ground with a dead branch he spots on the ground. Frozen solid, as he had suspected. With a sigh he kneels down and puts his bare hands on the forest floor, murmuring a request for the soil to thaw. He infuses his words with an equal measure of gratitude and appeal, and also a little urgency, because witch or not – his fingers are about to freeze.
He can feel the frost giving way to softness, the unrelenting hardness of winter retreating just long enough to let him dig up the roots he so badly needs. He takes just enough to give the remaining plants a fair chance at regenerating in spring and when he’s done he makes sure to withdraw his spell, so the soil can freeze over again and protect the roots that rest within it.
He continues like this for a while, moving further into the thicket of trees, always keeping a small part of his senses connected to the weather outside the of the secluded space underneath the forest giants, and he cannot help but become a little anxious at the way the storm is pulling closer.
Just one more patch to harvest and then he will have enough to return home and make a large batch of medicine until the frost breaks and spring comes. Yoongi puts out his hand, about to touch the soil to ask it to thaw when something slashes across his hand. He cannot feel anything, but watches in astonished horror at the four distinct lines on his left hand, the cold skin ripped apart like paper, the tears filling with the crimson blood. There is no pain and because of this he puts his hand down for a second time to try and defrost the ground. It is as if his mind does not recognise that his body has been injured and therefore just continues with the task it had been focussed on for the last hour.
When the second slash occurs, it is followed by immediate pain so severe that Yoongi’s body drops to the ground, lying there with pine needles digging into the side of his face and tangling in his hair, his hand looking like it has been mauled by an animal.
He breathes rapidly, trying to control the pain that is now pulsating its way from his hand up his arm to his shoulder. Tears are pooling in the corner of his eyes and he tries to blink them away. He concentrates on taking deep breaths and sending some of his magic to his hand, if not to heal it outright then to at least numb the pain.
When his hand no longer feels as if it has its own heartbeat, he takes a deep breath and rolls over to get up off the ground. He stops when he looks straight into a set of yellow eyes that are narrowed in anger and suspicion. He doesn't have the time to find out who he disturbed in their hiding place before the animal lunges forward with a sharp hiss, aiming for Yoongi’s face.
His reflexes kick in and he curls into a tight ball with his arms in front of his face and neck. He waits for the impact, but nothing happens.
When he peeks out between his arms, his eyes fall on a medium sized lynx, judging by the tufts on his ears, who stares at him with a pain filled gaze, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and sharp incisors visible behind pulled back lips.
His fur is dirty, with pineneedles and burdock burrs stuck to it, his back leg is sprawled at an angle that tells Yoongi it is broken.
But the one thing that makes him remove his hands entirely, absentmindedly wiping the blood that is still dripping from his hand on his jacket, to look at the lynx in front of him are his eyes.
"You're a hybrid." He states the words with certainty, because although he has never encountered a wild lynx before, there is no doubt in his mind that this one in front of him is a one of those that can change into human form.
The pair of yellow eyes narrow in suspicion, trying to see if Yoongi might be friend or foe but then close when a shiver of cold or pain passes through the too thin body.
For a moment Yoongi stares at the hybrid before him, trying to figure out how a lynx, a badly injured one at that, has ended up here. He has not heard about any of them settling in the vicinity but then again, what does he hear? His secluded hanok is hardly a hotbed of gossip.
Slowly Yoongi rises up to take a few steps away from the hybrid, not taking his eyes off him. He rummages in his bag to find a strip of cloth he can wind around his hand, which is still bleeding profusely. It would be best if he could heal the wound, but as he listens he can hear the wind howling louder than it had even half an hour ago, which means he would do better preserving his magic.
Once he has bandaged his injured hand, he carefully sits down on the forest floor and looks at the hybrid in front of him. The leg definitely needs a splint and the lynx might have other injuries that Yoongi has yet to see.
"You can't stay here. There’s a storm coming and with it a lot of snow. Do you have somewhere to go?" What a stupid question to ask, of course the lynx cannot leave, if he could he would undoubtedly be somewhere warm, and not here on the frozen ground.
What now? He cannot leave the hybrid, but with that leg and who knows what other injuries, the lynx will not be able to walk. He looks too thin to have the energy to move, even his attack on Yoongi was less than half-hearted.
"Right, you can't stay here." Yoongi shakes his head in frustration. "I already said that, didn't I? We’ll just have to find a way to get you out of here."
At those words the lynx shrinks back with an angry hiss, his teeth showing and his eyes narrowed as if he is contemplating on how best to tear Yoongi’s throat out.
This is going really well. The witch swallows hard. This is going splendidly. Nothing is easier than convincing a malnourished and injured predator hybrid, who is half feral with pain, that he is better off with a witch who he has never met than staying here on the forest floor to die of hypothermia.
"My name is Min Yoongi, I’m a witch. Well mostly a healer, but also an earth witch, although it has never been really defined if I fulfil all the requirements of a proper earth witch, but let’s just assume that I am, okay? I make healing potions and tinctures and salves for the people in the village." Yoongi is rambling, but somehow, for the first time in years, he fills the need to fill a silence.
Suddenly the lynx half leaps, half shuffles forward, trying to swipe at Yoongi with his healthy paw. When he realises that the man is too far away he just bats the air with his uninjured paw, almost like a promise of an injury he will inflict once he’s well again. Then he collapses onto the ground once more, a low hiss escaping him, this one filled with exhaustion and pain.
Yoongi does not get any closer to the hybrid, instead he looks at him intently.
"There’s a bad storm brewing out there, beyond those trees." As if to back him up the howling of the wind increases. "I can't really check your injuries here and I cannot heal you right now. I mean I could use my magic but then we would both be stuck in this place." He pulls his shoulders up to his ears in a gesture of embarrassment. "It usually takes me a while to recover when I… well, healing is tough when you're on your own, you know."
He claps a hand in front of his mouth as if he just spilled a dark secret. It is not widely known amongst other folk that witches perform better magic when they have emotional stability or, better still, someone who loves them. And to have to admit, even to himself, that he is alone and lonely.
"So, how about this," he jumps up and looks at the lynx with a bright smile, a forced one but the hybrid doesn’t have to know that, "I will try to put a splint on that leg."
He feels around for a sturdy stick that is flexible and not too thick, all the while listening for the ever increasing noise outside the thicket. Yoongi walks closer to the lynx, whose eyes are about to close but who keeps fighting the exhaustion and pain.
"I wouldn't normally use magic on you without consent, but we are running out of time and it’s a three hour trek to my hanok. I will not use more than I have to, just so you won't be in so much pain. Is that alright?"
It is almost too dark to see the lynx giving him the smallest nod of agreement. Yoongi scoots closer, making sure that the hybrid can see his hands, and then hovers them over the broken leg.
"I have to try and set this first before I can put the splint on, and even with the numbing magic it will hurt, but I promise I’m gonna be as careful as I can."
The tingling in his hands increases, and for the first time since he left his bed this morning they feel warm. That will only last for a moment though, just until he transfers it to the hybrid who has now started to shiver uncontrollably. With light and practiced hands he strokes over the matted fur a few times, just to get a feel for the condition of the bone underneath and then, when he finds the place where it is broken, he concentrates his energy there. It’s a bad break and he will have to do some more work on it once they are back at the hanok, but for now this will have to do. The splint is applied quickly and Yoongi secures it with strips of fabric that he tears off his pine needle bag.
The lynx’s breathing becomes more even and his eyes have completely closed now, and he seems to have fallen into a light doze. There is a lot more he needs in order to recover, but that will have to wait until they have descended to a lower elevation.
How to get him there is another issue. He could carry the hybrid, but even in his emaciated form he would still be very heavy as well as uncomfortable, if his injured leg was not stabilised.
"I’ll be back in a few minutes. Let me just see if I can find something that we can use to transport you."
As soon as Yoongi leaves the copse of trees, he is caught unawares by an icy gust of wind that whips around his face, cutting his skin with icy blades. This was not good. He clings on to one of the low hanging branches, his bare hands having a hard time to grab on to the prickly fir needles. There is almost no visibility and the noise from the howling storm and creaking trees is deafening.
For a moment Yoongi tentatively sends his magic out, letting it fill the gaps in between the snowflakes, swirling up and up and up until, trying to gauge how long this will last, if there is a chance that they will reach the hanok or if they are gonna be trapped on the rugged and unforgiving mountain.
Just as he is about to give up he can feel a tiny wave of calmness, high up where the snow is forming in the clouds. Fine, that will have to do. He just has to trust that the storm will calm down soon. Now to solve the other problem – transport. Yoongi puts his hand on one of the huge trees, silently asking them for help. They may grant it or they may not, but he has to try.
It seems that the forest is taking pity on him because as he stands there, two large branches fall down, their needles slightly brown but still firmly attached to the twigs.
With a sigh of relief Yoongi drags them back into the thicket to where the lynx lies, his breath coming in short exhausted bursts. Yoongi pulls the belt from his trousers and ties it tightly around the top of the branches before tipping out the bag of pine needles he had collected and tearing it into strips. He bends over the hybrid, silently mumbling an apology for what he is about to do.
Yoongi is a great believer in never using his magic without consent. He feels that to inflict it on someone else without permission is unethical, but in this case he can only ask for forgiveness later. Right now they are running out of time.
He puts his hands gently around the lynx’s face and murmurs an incantation that will not only put him to sleep but will also block his pain receptors for a few hours.
When he can be sure that the hybrid will not wake up again, he maneuvers him as fast as he can onto the makeshift sled and ties him to it with the strips of fabric. It is not the sturdiest contraption, but it will bring them home – or so Yoongi hopes.
He slings his bag and his snowshoes on his back and then grabs the top of the sled. It’s gonna be a long way home.
❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆
The wind pulls and tears, pushing Yoongi forward until he almost loses his footing on the icy surface. The weight of the sled painfully digs into the back of his legs, and he cannot feel his hands anymore.
He doesn't know how long he has been walking, it feels like days. All the landmarks he uses to orient himself on his foraging excursions are obscured by the blizzard that screeches around him as if the maws of hell have opened.
They had not been walking for long when Yoongi realised that the lynx would not survive the trek down the mountain, lying unmoving on the sled. Whatever chance Yoongi had by walking and fighting the storm, even if he only made slow progress, the cold would kill the hybrid before his injuries ever could. So, with a small regretful sigh, Yoongi had used the magic he had reserved for himself to cocoon his injured companion in a mantle of relative warmth. It was not like the cozy fire in his hearth, but hopefully it would be enough to keep the lynx alive until they reached the hanok.
It was a decision he now regrets bitterly. Not in the way that he begrudges someone injured a chance of survival, more in the way of feeling sorry for his own deep frozen body. A gust of snow blows up into his face, ripping the breath from his mouth and making him gasp for air. He wants to sit down and rest, wants to be warm and dry and maybe have a cup of tea made with the osha root he had collected. That seems like a lifetime ago. He sighs again at the loss of his precious pine needles, tipped out into a sad pile up in that thicket where he found the hybrid. At least the bag made good strips for fastening.
One step at a time, one step at a time, one step at a time.
This is all his brain is able for. The same words over and over again, a never ending mantra that will go on for all eternity. His surroundings are grey, devoid of light and orientation markers. There is only one way of reaching home now and that is to withdraw a little of the magic that surrounds the sled and send it out to the hanok, where it will hopefully connect with the protection spell from this morning, as a kind of homing beacon.
The magic swirls and dances, is pushed around by the storm and punctuated by the ice crystals that try to sever the delicate strand. It perseveres and moves ever further away from where Yoongi is dragging the sled through the snow drifts, his movements slowing down until he wonders if he is covering any distance at all.
One step, just one more step.
Yoongi wants to cry with exhaustion but there are no tears left. A few hours ago his stomach had been grumbling but food right now seems to be something he may never see again. If he can just get home to where it’s warm, then that is all that matters.
His magic returns back to him, not having found the edge of the protection spell. It dances through the air, and Yoongi can feel it escape, like a child that runs from an adult’s supervision. Unlike him it doesn't feel the biting cold or the pushing air currents. With an angry and impatient push, a command almost, Yoongi sends it out again to find the hanok.
He contemplates stopping, here and now. He will just curl himself around the lynx on the sled and wait out the storm, hoping that they won't perish in it and if they do, then at least they will not die alone.
It is then he feels the pull, so faint that he almost misses it, but with every dragging step, every foot he puts in front of the other, it tugs on him more. Yoongi is too worn out to get a second wind from his magic, finally latching on to the protection spell, but at least it keeps his feet moving.
By the time he can see his front door he is too numb from the cold to feel anything. With a last burst of magic he opens the door and drags the sled inside before falling to the floor. One more push of his mind to slam the door closed and a flick of his wrist to fan the flames in the hearth – and Yoongi loses consciousness.