For all of us

The fresh morning air fills my lungs as Hye-jin and I venture into the verdant expanses of the mountain, her familiarity with the terrain evident in every confident step she takes. Though I have my own set of survival skills honed over time, I am keenly aware that Hye-jin's specialised knowledge, particularly of the local flora and their medicinal properties, is invaluable.

As we navigate through the underbrush, Hye-jin points out a variety of plants, detailing their uses with an expertise that speaks of years of learning and experience. "This is mugwort," she explains, plucking a leaf and crushing it between her fingers to release its aroma. "It's great for digestion and can help with wound healing."

I listen attentively, recognising some of the plants from my past experiences but learning new applications and preparations from her. It is a humbling reminder that, no matter how skilled one becomes, there is always more knowledge to gain, especially from someone as adept as Hye-jin.

We continue our ascent, and Hye-jin shows me how to identify certain trees by their bark and leaves, information that could prove crucial in differentiating between similar-looking but vastly different plants. She shares techniques for efficiently harvesting and preserving herbs, maximising their utility and potency.

At one point, she leads me to a small stream, its crystal-clear water babbling over smooth stones. "Water sources like this are vital," she says, scooping up a handful of water and letting it filter through her fingers. "But they need to be purified. Let me show you a simple way to do it without boiling."

As the day wears on, every piece of knowledge Hye-jin shares reinforces the wisdom of our decision to invite her into our group. Her survival skills are not just theoretical but tested by the very life she has led on this mountain, a life that has prepared her well for the world we now face.

By the time we make our way back to the shelter, the sun is dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The journey back is quiet, contemplative, as I mull over everything I have learned.

***

As the soft glow of the lantern illuminates our shelter, the three of us—Hye-jin, Joon-ho, and I—gather around the table that has seen strategy sessions, but tonight's discussion bears a different weight. It is time to paint a broader picture of the world outside for Hye-jin, who has been isolated in her mountain haven for too long, her perspective understandably narrow.

"Hye-jin," I begin, careful to temper the reality of our situation with a sense of hope, "the world has changed drastically since you retreated to your cabin. The chaos you sought to escape has only deepened, affecting every corner of our existence."

She listens intently, her eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and concern. "I've heard noises, distant explosions, and gunfire over the months," she admits. "But I chose to stay away, to focus on surviving day by day, taking care of my father. What is it like out there now?"

Joon-ho interjects, providing a succinct yet stark overview. "Resources are scarce, and what remains of civilisation is fragmented. Groups and factions have formed, each with their own way of surviving. Some are benevolent, others... not so much."

I watch Hye-jin absorb this, her brow furrowing as she processes the information. "The infected are still a threat," I add, "but it's the humans you need to be more wary of. Desperation has led some down dark paths."

Hye-jin's gaze falls to her hands, clasped tightly on the table. "And what about the government, authorities? Is there any structure left?"

"We hear rumours," I reply, choosing my words carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her with too much negativity. "Some say pockets of government still exist, trying to reestablish order, but their reach is limited. For now, we're largely on our own."

She nods slowly, a sense of resolve setting into her features. "I understand. I've been fortunate to stay hidden for so long, but I realise that ignorance isn't safety. I want to help, to be part of whatever comes next."

"I agree. You've been remarkably fortunate to remain undetected for so long, a testament to your resilience and wisdom in choosing such a secluded haven. But luck, as we know it, can be fickle."

She nods, her expression sober, signalling her understanding and willingness to grasp the gravity of my words.

"The world out there," I continue, gesturing vaguely toward the walls that separated us from the unpredictable chaos beyond, "it doesn't forgive. We've seen shifts, movements, and incursions that remind us no place is truly safe. You've built something incredible with your cabin and its defences, but we must consider the possibility, however remote, that it may one day be discovered."

Joon-ho, ever the tactician, adds his perspective. "We've seen groups moving with more purpose, scouting further afield as resources become scarcer. It's only a matter of time before someone stumbles across your path."

Hye-jin absorbs our words, her gaze shifting between us as she processes the implications. "What do you suggest I do?" she asks, her voice steady, betraying none of the anxiety that such a conversation might naturally provoke.

"Training," I answer simply. "Both in self-defence and in firearms. You've shown incredible adaptability and willingness to learn. We can build on that, ensuring that if the day comes, you're not caught off guard."

Joon-ho lays out a few basic firearms on the table, their metal surfaces stark against the wood. "We'll start slow, focusing on safety and accuracy. Once you're comfortable, we'll progress to more advanced skills."

I watch Hye-jin as she reaches out tentatively, her fingers brushing against the cold steel of a handgun. There is a moment of hesitation, a silent acknowledgment of the weight such a weapon carried, both physically and symbolically.

"We'll also work on fortifying your cabin further," I promise. "Not just the physical structures, but setting up early warning systems, escape routes, and safe zones."

Hye-jin's response is a nod, filled with determination. "I want to be ready," she affirms. "Not just for myself, but for all of us."