A Single Shard by Linda Sue Park Page B

other. Against a fox he was defenseless. The fox would stare at him, looking deep into his eyes, bewitching him until he rose to follow it to its lair. He would never see Crane-man or Ajima again. The vases would remain hidden between the rocks for eternity. There would be nothing left of him but a pile of gnawed bones...
    The fox turned its head. For an instant the firelight gleamed in its eyes.
Don't look!
Tree-ear shouted to himself.
Don't look at its eyes—it's your only chance!
And he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the fox's evil stare.
    How long he waited he did not know. He opened his eyes after what seemed a lifetime. Had he been bewitched despite his efforts? Was he in the fox's lair, conscious for one last moment before a painful, bloody death?
    Tree-ear blinked to clear his vision. The fox was gone. He was still wedged into the opening between the rocks, his muscles aching with cramp. He dared not move; it was probably just another of the fox's tricks. If he were to emerge from shelter, the fox would be there, waiting for him. No, he would have to remain there, alert for any trap the devilish creature might spring...
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    The sound of crying birds awoke him. For a moment Tree-ear did not know where he was. He shifted slightly and a corner of the
jiggeh's
frame jabbed him rudely in the back.
    Sunlight streamed gloriously through the trees. It was morning.
    Could it be? He had fallen asleep! He had slept for who knew how long, with a fox nearby—and he had survived!
    Tree-ear laughed out loud, and the sound of his laughter reminded him of his friend.
We are afraid of the things we do not know—just because we do not know them,
Tree-ear thought, pleased with himself. He must remember the idea; Crane-man would be interested in discussing it. And he wiggled out of the crevice, grimacing ruefully at the tight knots in what seemed like every one of his muscles.
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    A day's walk beyond the next village lay the city of Puyo. Although Tree-ear was determined to go straight to Songdo without delay, Crane-man had counseled him to make one stop—at a place called the "Rock of the Falling Flowers" in Puyo.
    "It is an old, old story," Crane-man had said. And Tree-ear had settled down on his sleeping mat, wriggling around for the most comfortable position.
    "You know that our little land has suffered many invasions," Crane-man began. "The powers that surround us—China, Japan, the Mongols—have never left us in peace for long. This is the story of one such invasion.
    "It was the T'ang Chinese this time, all of five hundred years ago. Puyo was then the capital of the Paekche kingdom—one of the Three Kingdoms that shared the land. The T'ang, allied with the Silla kingdom, swept down from the north and pushed their way into Puyo. Most of the King's army having been called away to fight the war, there were only a handful of personal guards to defend him. The King received warning, but it was too late.
    "As he and all his courtiers fled the palace, the T'ang were snapping at their heels. The King and his party were forced to retreat to the very highest point of Puyo—a cliff overlooking the Kum River. There was no escape. Bravely, the King's guards placed themselves a little way down the path between the enemy and their sovereign. They were overrun in moments.
    "All of the King's concubines and ladies-in-waiting crowded around him, determined to protect him to the last. The women knew well that the T'ang would not kill them; no, they would be taken prisoner, probably to be tortured. Their terror can hardly be imagined."
    Crane-man paused and sipped at his tea. Tree-ear was no longer lying down; he had risen to his knees in the excitement of the story. "Is that all?" he demanded.
    "Patience, monkey. The best is yet to come." Crane-man stared into the fire for a moment. "The T'ang army charged up the hill. All at once, as if all their minds had become one, the women began jumping off the cliff.