Phụng halts her horse at the foot of a small hill and gathers her bearings. Looking around, she only sees a dense forest engulfed in immense darkness. Looking up, she observes a domed sky as black as the depths of hell.

Phụng appears confused, which belies her brave reputation. She shakes her hands and lets out a long howl: the deep forest reverberates back an echo. Frustrated, Phụng sighs, then mutters to herself: Now, where to find Lành and Đại? They must’ve got lost just like me. Too bad! I should have stayed home instead of going hunting and getting into this mess!

Far off, in the mysterious nighttime forest, a waterfall emits a faint murmur. Phụng hears it, and says to herself: Right. Mu Mi Waterfall is not far from here. To find my way back, I’ll just listen to the sound of the water and head in that direction.

She spurs her horse swiftly through an area overgrown with trees and common field reeds to remove the moisture from her clothes. Branches like strong arms extend outward, nearly knocking her off her horse many times. Phụng is still lost by the time of the rooster’s first crow at twilight. Caressing the dagger hilt hanging from her waist, she says to herself: I’ve already crossed the Rubicon. What’s it matter if I risk a little more! Guns? Lành and Đại each carry one. I only have this dagger. My life depends on this small weapon!

• Tags: fiction, Issue 35, Khanh Hoa, Lý Văn Sâm, Ryan Nelson, Vietnam