They walked at dawn.
Not far — Tae-Jun couldn't. But far enough to leave the bunker, the fire, the ashes of their uniforms behind.
They had no plan.
No map.
Only a direction: away.
---
The forest was thicker here. Damp earth. Wild vines. No paths.
Yul led, machete in hand.
Tae-Jun followed, limping, leaning on a broken branch turned cane.
They moved slowly. Carefully.
Too carefully.
Because something was wrong.
---
Yul stopped.
Held up a hand.
Fingers stiff.
Tae-Jun froze behind him.
The grass ahead looked normal. Untouched. But Yul pointed to the ground — at a small piece of rusted metal barely sticking up.
A landmine.
Then another.
Then a wire.
They were in a field. A hidden one.
---
Panic started to rise.
> No maps.
No markings.
No second chances.
Yul crouched. Scanned the area. Then looked back.
He didn't speak.
But his eyes said: "Follow my steps. Exactly."
Tae-Jun nodded.
---
What followed was the slowest hour of Tae-Jun's life.
Yul stepped.
Waited.
Pointed.
Tae-Jun mimicked.
Sweat dripped into his eyes.
Every branch crack felt like a death sentence.
Twice, Yul stopped him.
Once, Tae-Jun nearly lost balance.
But somehow… they made it.
At the end of the field, they collapsed — side by side — breathless.
Alive.
---
Tae-Jun looked over at Yul. Both of them soaked in sweat and mud, shaking.
And then — despite everything — they laughed.
Quietly. Weakly. But real.
---
> Entry Thirteen.
We walked through death today.
Step by step, heartbeat by heartbeat.
I should be terrified. But I'm not.
Because he was in front of me.
And I knew he wouldn't let me die.