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Lee crouched down, looking at the cart. Her leg was pinned under the rear wheel. He tried lifting the cart, but the horse was lying on the front corner, pinning the shattered wooden frame. The horse shifted its weight, but was in danger of dragging them all further down into the gully. Water poured down from above, running in a stream over the hind flanks of the crippled beast.

Looking around, Lee found an uprooted tree, a sapling not more than six feet in length. He wedged one end of the slender trunk beneath the cart and pried at the frame, trying to gain some leverage on a large rock. Slowly, the cart lifted and the woman pulled herself from beneath the wheel.

Lee was breathing hard has he dropped down beside her. She was grimacing in pain, but she forced out two words, “Thank you.”

From the awkward angle her foot was at and the swelling below her knee, he knew she had broken her fibula bone, but the break hadn’t broken through the skin, which was good. Hopefully she’d avoid infection.

“Please, don’t be afraid. My name is John Lee. I am a captain with the South Korean Coast Guard.”

The woman nodded. He’d expected her to introduce herself, but she didn’t. He wasn’t sure if she was shy, if she felt intimidated by someone who was ostensibly her enemy, or if this was some kind of cultural protocol between men and women in North Korea, but she looked away as though she were embarrassed. On thinking about it, he realized any South Korean would probably feel as confused and dazed if they were suddenly rescued by a North Korean soldier, so her response was understandable.

“Listen. Your leg is broken. I need to make a splint or I’m going to cause more damage when I move you. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

Lee had a knife with a saw-tooth back in his survival kit. He used the jagged blade to cut through two branches, trimming them to roughly a foot long. It was tiring work as each stroke spanned only a couple of inches. Even in the cold, sweat beaded on his forehead as he sawed at the wood. He spoke as he worked. Talking made him feel better.

“We crashed off the coast last night. My helicopter was damaged and sank. I thought I was dead. The last thing I remember was swimming through the wreckage, trying to get to the surface. I must have blacked out, but my life jacket kept my head above water and somehow I survived. I was washed ashore about fifteen kilometers south of here.”

Lee should have been more guarded with his words, but he had to speak. Talking broke down the artificial barriers between them. He wondered how much she understood, wondering if she would recall his words to the North Korean soldiers and betray him, and yet he felt he had to trust her. From the moment he decided to help, he knew he’d have to trust her to do the right thing, just as he’d done the right thing in coming to her aid. What was greater? Loyalty to one’s country, or kindness to a stranger?

“We were searching for someone,” he continued. “A girl, a young girl.”

“The girl from the stars?” she said, and he stopped sawing.

“Yes, the girl from the stars,” he replied, his heart pounding in his chest.

Lee was surprised by the emotion stirred by her words. Her description of a girl from the stars took him off guard, but that had to be who the US Navy SEALs had come looking for. How did this woman know about her? What made her talk about this girl as coming from the stars? How was that even possible? He had so many questions, but he felt prudence was the best tactic and finished sawing at the wood without saying any more.

“I have seen her,” the woman added, breaking the silence. “She was rescued by one of the fishermen in my village. I will take you to her.”

Lee was surprised by the woman’s openness. There was something in the tone of her voice, in the conviction with which she spoke, as though she had been bold enough to speak out against taboo. He nodded, saying, “Thank you.”

Although what could he do to help this child? He had no idea who she was, where she was really from, or why she was so important to the Americans. And he had no way of rescuing the young girl, no way of rescuing himself. For now, however, that could wait.

“First, we need to get you out of this ravine,” he said, kneeling beside her and placing sticks on either side of her leg. He took off his jacket and removed his shirt. Then, using his knife, he tore the shirt into long strips of cloth. “I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt.”

He could see her gripping the roots of the tree she was leaning against. Her knuckles were white with anticipation. She nodded, and Lee got to work, trying to move as swiftly and deliberately as possible as he straightened her leg and bound sticks on either side. She cried out in pain, but held herself still.