The cold snow stung her cheeks a bright red, although in the darkness you would never know it. The wind had begun to pick up, as had the cold intensified throughout the day, and now she suddenly felt chilled to the bone as she rounded a corner sharply and put on speed. The mountain was mainly deserted, as it should be for the time of day, but she had begged for a few more hours outside in the powder, and had eventually been dismissed with a wave of a hand to go do what she wanted.

The mountain range was beautiful; snow speckled trees lined the runs from the summit to the chalet at the bottom, reminding her very much of the mountains she had been on as a child. It was with ease she sliced through the powder, two dark brown braids trailing behind her from beneath the black helmet. Above, the moon provided the guiding light for her to veer off to the right and into the trees, weaving in and out, beneath snow-covered branches and over a frozen stream. She cut the corner sharply, carving hard on her toe edge around a large spruce.

Past the deserted chairlift, as the staff had long gone home, and down another run, it was almost second nature for her to close her eyes for just a moment and breathe. Breathe the crisp mountain winter air and the scent of pine and allow the gently falling snow to fall on her upturned face. Once more the emerald eyes blinked open and silently she put weight on her front foot, sliding it to the left as her back foot slid behind.

Back and forth, back and forth her board slid as she maneuvered back into the trees, this time denser, making her move faster, sharper, around the trees. It was seldom she did this during normal hours, but when she was alone there was something thrilling about racing oneself through the forest without having to worry about anything other than the trees. There was no skiers to watch for, no children to swerve around, no snowmobilers to contend with. There was only her and her snowboard and the feeling of the wind biting at her skin.

As the trees moved right into the forest she moved left onto the trail; without a moment’s hesitation she swerved her board to take the rolling hill at a jump, as the sensation of flying through the air overtook her senses for a second before landing. A landing that was as ungraceful as it was spectacular, snow flying in every direction as the powder below absorbed her impact; cradling her body as she slid several feet through the cold substance before coming to a firm stop, laying down with her head pointed down the hill.

For a moment she was completely silent, eyes squeezed shut tightly, before she exhaled the breath she had been holding, and then another. And another until she was laughing in the darkness, eyes blinking up at the stars arranged in the night sky. Down here where the runs were more spacious the wind was warmer and nipped less, letting her sit up for a moment to snap the strap on her helmet off and let it lie to the side. Resting back into the snow, her head was propped up on her mitten-covered hands; there was a stillness about the earth that she relaxed into.

From this position she could almost swear she was back in Chicopee, lying in the snowy powder after hours there instead of halfway across the world on Yongpyong. Yet the memories of the Canadian mountain was beginning to fade as they were replaced with memories of a new type; snowball fights on the Odaesan Mountains, bargaining in the markets of Seoul, paying respects to the dead in Busan, and drinking green tea in Jeju. She allowed herself the small luxury of wondering what everyone back home would say if they knew where she was now; if they knew that her silent departure four years earlier on a journey that took her to seven countries had brought her more fulfillment than classrooms and desk-jobs could ever bring them.

It was a spiteful train of thought, but it felt good to stop repressing it for just a moment. It took more energy to forget the life she left behind than it took to jump out of helicopters on her snowboard; but as she shimmied in the snow so she was facing down the mountain once more, it was without a doubt in her mind that the dark haired woman knew she would never trade her future in Korea for a past in Canada. Standing, she slowly inched her way out of the loose snow and back onto firmer packed ground, picking up speed once more.

The trip to the bottom took only minutes by this point as she cut across several runs to speed up the process, the chalet lights coming into focus before she saw the building. Her calves ached as she slowed down, unhooking her bindings with a graceful swipe of her hand across her boots. With uneven steps she walked towards the main doors, snowboard wedged underneath her arm, lips blooming a smile as one of the doors opened and light spilled out in front of her.

“I was just going to come find you.”
“I said I’d be back,” she grinned, stepping inside.
“Three hours later.”

She merely grinned in appreciation of his patience, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she wobbled over to a bench and unsnapped her helmet. They both moved in silence around the room, the staff going about their own business as if the couple wasn’t there. Tying the last lace on her sneaker with a flourish she took a moment to gaze across the room. He was gorgeous, dark black hair falling into his eyes as he zipped her snowboard into its bag. The black long sleeved shirt hugged his stomach tightly, giving her eyes something to roam over as he turned to face her, hands on his snow pant covered hips.

“And just what are you looking at?”
“Chung-yo haji anayo.”
“It’s not important?” He grinned, “You were looking at me, weren’t you? Just admit it…”
“I will do no such thing, Alex Park!”
“You know, Hana, you’re a brat.”

She stuck her tongue out at Alex, walking over to grab her snowboard while tossing him her boots. Her braids were coming out as the cool evening air hit her face once again and she pressed on quickly to the car, ignoring the comments being made behind her. Sliding her board into the trunk, Hana whirled around to come face to chest with Alex, tilting her head upwards.

Positions like this made her question why she was resisting the temptation of throwing herself at his cobalt blue eyes and soft lips, meeting the taller man on each blink of his eyes. They stood like that for less than a minute, starring down each other as their breath frosted in white clouds before Alex stepped back and ran a hand through his unstyled hair.

“I guess we should head back down the mountain. Wouldn’t want Pak Taejin-shi to ground you.”
“I cannot believe,” she paused as she opened the car door, “that you are still afraid of my father, Alex.”
“I cannot believe,” the car started and Alex looked up at her from the drivers seat, “that you are still afraid of your sister, Hana.”