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Saki and I retreat to the baths and enjoy the steaming warmth as much as the closeness of washing each other's backs. We rest in the waters until we're relaxed down to the bone. I might fade in and out of sleep, but she mentions nothing if I do. Getting decent once more, keeping our fingers mostly to ourselves while she dries herself with cloth and magic flame, we head back out underneath a midday sky.

Meandering together along the stone paved walkways, a destination the last thing either of us cares about, I try to enjoy the sun's light cutting through the chill.

Despite the enthusiasm of our passions, Saki seems more lively instead of sore. It's in the perkiness of her ears, the angle of her tails, even the loosened way she moves.

I should be unburdened as well, instead of floating along with the kitsune and my thoughts. Even if the winter's long tension has lessened after an evening that ended with two lovers, my purpose for visiting this mountain a season ago remains.

No, I complicated it. I've made an oath to end the man-eater oni without harming their lost sister Meiko. Allowing my body to rest and mend with such a dire situation waiting will be quite the task, when my heart wants to run towards battle.

Walking close enough to the eight-tail that she's all but hanging onto my arm, I have to do something to focus on her and not the man-eater lurking somewhere outside the walls. Else I'll slip back into the dark mood that clung to me all winter. Or worse, rashly hunt down the oni Kenta by myself. Had I done that sooner, before the two elder sisters and I…

My heavy breath mists in the noon chill. I know the path those thoughts lead down.

To escape such old scars, I draw Saki's gaze with a touch and ask, "Is it fine to wander more?"

"Together?"

Is that teasing hidden beneath her unmoving expression and polite tone?

As if to answer my thoughts, a few tails curl against me, guarding against the worst of a cold breeze that's been creeping through my clothes – giving me good cause to put off hunting that oni down this very morning.

My hand, seeking another reason to stay, sneaks to her waiting waist, the layered silk and fur unable to hide her honed curves. "Is that what you'd like?"

She nods, fluffy tails pulling me closer, encouraging my fingers to more firmly hold her shape.

"This as well," she says, grin unseen but certainly there.

"Then I shouldn't disappoint," I say, feeling a smile on my face and a content murmur rise from deep in Saki's chest.

We wander about the frosty morning, enjoying each other's company and unashamed closeness. Her hips sway beside me and underneath my palm, the tails spread across my legs and back reminding me that I'm not the only one feeling something I enjoy. Further along our path, her sleeve greedily rustles across my shoulders, staying there like it belongs. Now that it's here, I know how sorely I missed the peace and pleasure of being with a woman I dare to trust.

Slowly meandering along the stone path, underneath a sky of wispy clouds, we don't take our clinging touches too far. Our clothes stay on and hands keep from diving underneath them, at least.

Distracted feet lead us by the cliff at the far end of the home. There, the lone, red torii standing in front of the weathered stone catches my eye, the mystery of its presence once more flickering in my thoughts. Thresholds have the power to invite or constrain, but often there's deeper meaning and magic. From color to form, and especially location, every bit of the kitsune crafted arch must have a purpose. As do the ones leading up the path on the mountain.

I look away, toward the direction we'll be heading, far past the lower inner wall of the garden. If I'm supposed to be resting, I should let the embers of my curiosity die down instead of asking after every dangerous mystery the kitsune family keeps.

Yet Saki's gaze turns to where mine had lingered on the torii, her steps slowing.

"What do you see?" she asks.

Her straightforward question too sincere to ignore, I consider the cliff again. We stop a good five paces from the torii, sharing warmth in the thinning shade. I don't notice anything amiss with stone or arch. The sky is the same, the path and ground as I remember, and it's still day so there's no trickery with the moon or stars.

Instead of straining my wits, I ask, "Should there be more than an arch and a wall of mountain's stone?"

After a thoughtful moment of silence, Saki answers, "No."

Her mask-like expression has me appraising the torii again. If she wanted to move on from this topic, wouldn't she say so? And do I really know her well enough yet to think that?

Before I can twist myself into another knot over the unspoken intent of a kitsune, I look at her. "Rin said these arches are entrances to sacred places."

"Most are," Saki nods.

"Then where does this one lead?"

She stares at the torii, moments stretching on as she weighs her words in contemplative silence. I don't mind waiting, not with her warm fox tails enveloping me and a shared satisfaction from how we fit together. My fingers rest a little more firmly on her hip, which only encourages her to lean farther into me as she considers her words.

"Our shrine lies beyond," she says at last.

I want to ask how there's anything but ancient stone past the torii. Instead, urged on by nothing more than instinct, I ask, "A shrine to this land's gods or to whatever it is those bald headed monks in their temples revere?"

A bitter huff, somewhere between sour laugh and scoff, passes her lips.

"Our shrine has nothing to do with the well meaning, misguided man those monks dishonor," she says.

Saki's head shakes as I realize, with a twinge of regret, that I witlessly stumbled right into her pained past by mentioning those monks. Memories of her lost twin don't rule her, however.

"The shrine is for our ancestors," she explains, rubbing my shoulder fondly. For her own sake more than mine, but it soothes us both. "And for ?-Inari, the kami patron of our family."

That complicated word again, kami. Its meaning is too broad when it can include both those bestial sarugami that attacked the village and the god the kitsune revere. Unless I'm making a fool's assumption about this land again. The farther east I traveled, the stranger each host of gods and ways have become.

Hoping to keep the conversation away from the lost sister Meiko, I ask, "Who or what is this ?-Inari?"

I doubt I say the name correctly, yet Saki doesn't seem to take notice of my unfamiliarity. Her mouth twitches, not quite opening. Consideration and confusion hang on her lips, breaking through her typical mask. She utters, "Kami?"

Before I can say anything, she tilts her head away and fidgets a few tails against my clothes. If I touched her ears, they'd surely be hot from embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she says, "I don't know how to explain."

"Don't be, I asked the poor question. I hardly know where to start asking about your family after being such a quiet guest all this time."

"You didn't ask poorly," she says, composure returned so swiftly it might've never disappeared at all. "I don't have a head for the stories the way my sisters do. They can help you understand where I can't."

A grunt hums in my throat. "Instead of who or what ?-Inari is, what does this kami do as your family's patron?"

Saki stares at the face of the cliff, seemingly unfocused, though she does give a hint of a nod.

"It's not just my family. ?-Inari and kitsune are intertwined in this land. Some choose to be her messengers after ascending, others an ancestor to revere. A few act as her priestesses, offering talismans and blessings to pilgrims. As my mother did."

She stops to gather her words, concentration too sharp not to be hiding some thorny memories. I hold her tighter, not wishing to pry into her and Rin's familial regrets. All I can offer is a steady shoulder, should it be needed.

Eventually the kitsune leaning into me speaks up. "Honoring kami such as ?-Inari is proper. As is gratitude for any bounty and protection given to us."

When she falls silent, seemingly tripped up on her own words and history, I ask, "Protection against what?"

"Disasters. Poor harvests. Other kami." Saki shifts her feet, something I can barely feel, but the unease is there. "Rin can share tales about our traditions, if you ask. She'll explain it better than a mere warrior."

If that's not a plea to change our conversation, I'm deaf. "When I'm swapping stories with you two one evening, I'll be sure to ask for them from her."

In trying not to make her uncomfortable, which seems to work, thoughts better off forgotten twist in my chest. One pleasant night and morning can't free me from worrying about navigating a relationship with two women, no matter how they assured me it was mutual, but the little hum of agreement from Saki helps to push those snarled thoughts away. If Rin were on my other arm, I'm certain the pair of them would keep me thoroughly distracted.

What a confounding winter this has been.

"Is there anything else you want to know about my family?" Saki asks, recovering the conversation from the long lapse of silence.

"Far too much," I admit.

"You'll have many chances," she assures, tail rubbing against my lower back promising more than talk another time.

"Well," I laugh dryly at myself, "I haven't even asked how many sisters you have, have I?"

"About twenty sisters," Saki says, "and five brothers."

So not all kitsune are women, but that's less important than another question. "About twenty?"

"It's…" she lets a grimace slip through her politely masked expression. "Some went to the mainland, disavowing our mother and family. A few only show themselves every hundred years or so, if ever again."

Confusion, more so than pain, drags her voice towards a whisper. Being so long lived comes with troubles all its own, to say nothing of any family they've truly lost over the years.

"What about your brothers?" I ask. "Where are they?"

"Two are in the capital, the rest north. They enjoy court affairs too much to visit." Saki lets out an annoyed breath. "They help, keeping attention far from the mountain."

"If they visit, let me know if I should slap sense into them."

A brow tilts. "They'd crumble if you raised your hand. My brothers are thoughtful, poetic men."

"Delicate."

"Yes," she says, disappointed. "The northern conflicts might change the younger few."

"Learning from a well traveled foreigner might as well."

Saki's nod is as thoughtful as it is grateful. "It might."

Her gaze turns distant, something stilling her tails and taking her thoughts far away. Whether it's about her family I've only begun to learn about or her heart wavering, I'm sure she'll say something soon. I can easily enjoy the company and the faint breeze cooling my own heated blood.

"Do you still see nothing?" Saki suddenly asks, motioning to the rock wall beyond the torii.

I'm not so distracted I could miss such an obvious hint that there's something I should be seeing.

Instead of answering there's only stone and an arch, I close my eyes. I've seen through the illusions of kitsune before, usually without meaning to. Trusting instinct, I tilt my head back. I open my eyes to a blue sky, cold and wispy clouds passing above, and then turn my gaze up the weathered cliff. Across the jutting ridges and smoothed slopes, over patches of ice exposed at last to the rising and sun and dripping from it, I see the exposed bones of the mountain. There, at the top, I spot a crag. A thin gap that stretches down and down, easily missed in the weathered face, all the way to the red torii.

I see that beyond the arch is no sheer barrier. Stairs, carved into ancient stone, rise through a widened cleft in the rockface, vanishing into a winding path it must take up. At last, I have an answer for the purpose of the lone torii, as it welcomes the way through a narrow valley well hidden from many angles.

My mouth draws into a hard line. I have to wonder how I never saw this before, but like with all magic, why I am seeing it at all is the wiser question. One I'd likely be happier without an answer for.

Mindful of my words, I ask, "Am I supposed to see through the glamour?"

"You've had permission," Saki replies. "Seeing has been up to you."

"Permission from ?-Inari?"

"The mountain."

Pondering that, and knowing Saki isn't being humorous, I can only accept what's before me. Across all the lands I've traveled, with all that I've seen, there are places that seem to have intentions all their own. From forests with devious faeries to dry, desolate wastelands hiding things older than man, and all that lurks beneath the waves of every sea.

"Then it's good I didn't anger it," I say about the mountain.

Her grave nod only gives me more questions about the magic of this land. Seems I'm trading one mystery for more, but it's too cold of a day to stand around asking about history.

"When everything is settled, we can show you the shrine," she says.

After the man-eater oni is dealt with, she means. I agree with a nod, back of my neck itching with unease. I keep myself focused on the present by asking, "Only then?"

"For now, the prisoner is kept in a cave near the shrine."

My bandaged and poulticed injuries seethe with lingering rage and guilt, fresh memories a barbed thorn, forgotten until touched. She means Taro, the half-kappa monster I should have killed twice over. Had I only dashed its skull against stone until bone and rock shattered, ending the vile rot of its breath, or stopped it from ever getting its hands on my neck, keeping it from maiming the youngest of the kitsune sisters...

Somehow only one of my hands tries to curl into a fist, and thankfully it's not on Saki's side.

Yet still, her palm rubs against my taut shoulders. Of course she would notice – and expect me to be as I am.

"He'll be slain if he tries to escape," she says with a cold certainty I share.

"By my hands," I utter, "should I see it."

Gentle, calloused fingerpads touch my jaw. "Or mine."

Looking into her eyes, the promise of her words firm, I nod. The brambled weight pushing my shoulders down eases, letting them be soothed by her. A new worry pricks its way through my skin and scars, a tiny fear of her getting hurt. A dangerous sprout if I ever start doubting the eight-tail as a warrior.

"Come, we shouldn't linger in this season," Saki says, wisely urging me to move along with gentle pressure on my back.

My sluggish feet don't want to leave the ground when a man-eater is so near, but I make them. I can still see Miki's bloodied face, but vengeance for the young kitsune must wait. Step by step, I try to let the rage return to forgotten embers. A pit, like the stone of a rotten fruit, stays in my throat. My face must be cast with the shadows of such foul thoughts, for when we turn past the wall surrounding the hidden garden, Saki stops.

She flows in front of me, pressing me into a hug. I nearly flinch. I'd pull away were it anyone but her or Rin. Saki's deliberate motions and approach cut through the worst of my fight ready mood, lightening that lingering little fear of something happening to her as I feel her well mastered body move against mine.

Out of everyone on this mountain, the two of us have the best chance of taking down any escaped half-kappa, weapons or not.

"Can you not let yourself rest?" Saki asks, her mouth near my ear as I realize we're in the quietest part of the sprawling home of the kitsune. No wind or bird calls reach this spot alongside the garden's wall.

I'm slow to respond, unable to do more than barely touch Saki. "Do you truly have the man-eater trapped?"

"An oni couldn't break the iron and seals containing him."

"I've seen how tough the half-kappa is. Will that be enough?"

"Yes."

Much as I'd like to argue, the creature was resilient but not as strong as its heritage. If an oni is like the giant I once faced, then any bonds fit for such a monster would hold the half-kappa.

Telling myself that doesn't do anything about the pit in my stomach.

"Even should something come to get him?" I ask.

Soft fur and whiskers brush against my ear and cheek, Saki's hands resting on my shoulders as she faces me. "We'll know if anything passes through the torii on the path."

"Anything working with the oni wouldn't go up the path."

A slight, almost devious, smile lifts the edge of Saki's mouth. Her head dips as she says, "Without following the path, our home can't be found. Nor our shrine without walking through that torii."

She gestures back to the crag in the cliff with a tail, looking at me confidently, hopefully even, the entire time.

Only because this is a matter of her sisters' well-being do I give a nod, forcing back questions about any dangers or tricks to the magic. If I'm going to be bait for the oni Kenta, I need to know as little as possible about the defenses of their home.

"Then we should go inside," I say, "before I'm tempted to rashness instead of rest."

A trailing touch turns me around, Saki's mask-like expression returning as she sidles up to walk beside me. "Certain brashness, Rin and I would agree with," she murmurs as we stride through the garden.

I chew on the obvious meanings, and how quickly she can cover her feelings up.

The bracing cold and short walk help bring me back to what matters, and not what hard won instincts believe I should do. Near the main building, where a pair of foot coverings to change into awaits me like always, a yearning fondness pushes against the pit in my stomach. If I have to rest and wait, then there's company I want to have.

"Shall we find Rin and be brash together?" I ask after swapping off my boots, Saki insistently helping me.

An inquisitive, curious side glance and tails curling against me say more than words could. I don't need to explain myself either, not aloud. The eight-tail helps me up, devious light or the reflection of the eave's ice glimmering in her eyes.

"She does overwork herself," Saki says at last, taking a short step back from me. "We could check on her."

"So we don't sneak off to hunt a man-eater unprepared?"

Saki's fingers lightly trail along my shield arm. "She'll forgive us for that."

She doesn't need to smile, not for me. I follow along, back into the home and its halls, trying not to think about the size within being far too big for the building. That's the easiest thought I've had to cast aside.

---

After a walk that, based on the turns, takes us in a spiral, I hear hushed voices float down the hall. The sounds grow, but I can't make out anything said, even when we're only fifteen strides away from any door-wall.

Saki stops in place right as the door-wall opens, my feet belatedly halting as the voices become clear.

"Do not touch the bandages," says Rin from within the room, only a few tails crossing the threshold and her back turned to the hall.

I can't make out how a voice far within responds, though it must be something unexpected with the way Rin gives a pause and her tails neatly arrange themselves. But not calmly.

"She won't," someone else says softly. Was that Shizuka?

There's a shift in Rin's tails that I hardly notice, yet I can imagine her sleeves coming together before her as she stares down at one of her sisters. "You're certain about this, Yuuko?"

"Of course," replies a third voice.

"Go, eldest sister," says Shizuka, her voice unmistakable now. "Before you make poor Miki shout at you to stop fussing. We don't want her straining herself, do we?"

"If you three are so certain," Rin says, tone relenting, and I'm certain at least two heads nod at her, "then I shall be in my rooms, should you need me for anything."

A few heartbeats pass, along with something I can't make out being said – that must be Miki. Only one of Rin's tails faintly droops, hidden among the rest, as if breathing out a tired sigh she can't bury, before straightening with the rest of her in a shallow bow.

"Rest and recover, my dear little sister," Rin says, deep care coloring her voice, while still maintaining her noble bearing.

With that, the nine-tail retreats three steps, holding the bent posture, and slides shut the door-wall without touching it. Head downcast, staring at her sleeves before her or the polished wooden floor, she drifts several steps towards us before her ears flick our direction.

Those captivating blues rise, surprise crossing her face. Her steps never falter. The poise befitting the lord of this mountain hides away her thoughts, Rin's gaze flicking between Saki and I. A stone of panic catches in my throat, thinking that all of this winter trouble isn't at an end. It sticks sharply until Rin crosses the distance and makes a soft, smiling bow. She says nothing, instead reaching slowly for my sleeve. Touching the cloth instead of me, she motions for us to go back the way we came, leading with a gentle tug of my clothes while Saki takes my other side.

We retrace our way down the halls we came. With Rin reticent, yet holding herself close to me the same as Saki, I don't need to ponder about what to do. Right before I'm about to act brashly, Saki gives me an instructive look, hidden from her sister, and a telling nudge.

Hoping I understand the silent signal, I wait until we turn a corner before surprising the nine-tail. Putting my arm across her back and gingerly urging her towards me, I'm met with a bone tired sigh escaping Rin. She leans into me just short of slumping, a few of her tails joining Saki's to ward against the last lingering chills of winter – both kitsune press against me, all pretending there's a need for distance gone.

"Have the revolts against me ceased?" Rin sighs.

"What?" I ask, voicing what Saki must be thinking with the way she stares over my head.

"I do not accuse," Rin grimaces, "though I must sound like it."

"You don't," Saki says.

I nod in agreement and ask, "Did something happen?"

With a sad shake of her head, scattering a couple of her snowy locks, Rin says, "I have been politely revolted against all day by our little sisters. Hotaru was performing the rites when I arrived at the shrine. She stubbornly, politely insisted I could attend other matters."

Hearing about the shrine pulls on my tendons, but Saki squeezing my arm against her side helps me keep my mouth shut against worries I need to let go. I have to trust in whatever iron or seals hold the man-eater.

Rin, thankfully oblivious to my moment of tension, continues, "I assisted Shizuka's medicine preparation this morning, as she and Yuuko have been keeping Miki in good spirits. But I was encouraged to leave with sweet words and warm concerns all the same. When I went to see our ill sisters, Hibiki was already drugged into a stupor to keep her from walking outside to train with her fever. All thanks to Kumiko, Natsuki, and Tomomi recovering enough to watch over her. They insisted that Hibiki would bicker her way into a delirious argument should she wake and see me, right until I left and heard her murmuring about whether or not I was gone yet."

"Looking to argue if not," Saki states, certain as if she'd been there.

"I know," Rin says, eyes ahead. I'm not sure where we're going, or if we even have a destination. "When I went to the kitchens, I made it two steps in before I was chased away with more polite words than I thought Miyu and Akemi capable of, all on the excuse that I could bring broth to Miki."

Another sigh, but not quite so tired, leaves Rin. "Once I did, it was our little sister who fussed over me, as if she weren't the wounded one."

"Yuuko and Shizuka?" Saki asks.

"They quietly let Miki fuss first, and looked at me as if I was hiding an injury."

"Could they be doing that," I begin, both kitsune focusing on me, "because of what Akemi thinks she saw?"

From that tilt of her head Rin doesn't seem to understand what I mean, while the crack in Saki's expression hints at a self-doubting frown.

"I only now considered it," I say, "but what if Akemi mistook the sight of us this morning?"

"We were very straightforward," Rin insists, and I can imagine her ears heating up slightly as she glances aside. "What could she have thought otherwise? And what of my sisters that served us the night before?"

"I only have guesses and assumptions, neither of which have been wise for me as of late."

"Share them. We can be fools together."

The three of us already started down this strange path, so why not give my best guesses from the gut? "If Akemi is naive enough not to know by scent what we'd done the night before, then would she even guess correctly by sight? Can your sisters even think it's possible you were being anything other than polite to me and protective of Saki?"

That frown cracks all the way through Saki's expression, her suspicions sturdier than mine and just as late.

"I was not subtle," Rin insists, squeezing my hand. "We-"

Saki stops in place, halting all of us as surely as if she took hold of a tree. A bitter realization twists her ears back and mouth into a frown. A sigh even escapes her before she speaks. "I should have seen it. You're the untouchable head of the family."

"I have not always had this duty," Rin says, gaze lowering and tails swaying unhappily.

Saki dips her head, in sorrow or apology, voice compassionate. "The pillar of the family is how Akemi and many others have seen you, even before the duties passed to you."

"And when have I ever taken such an interest in a guest?" Rin asks.

"Never," Saki replies. "Nor have you ever had mother's personable ways, or any interest in matters of the heart that our sisters have seen."

An exasperated, almost disgusted sigh leaves Rin, giving me further resolve to never lightly speak about their mother.

"What then?" Rin asks. "In their eyes I have only been protecting our honored guest?"

"Yes."

"Even after I clearly invited you two into my rooms, with wine to share among us? Where Akemi had to see nightly passions were shared, while I was there?"

I don't know why I only now realize we're standing in a familiar hall, somewhere near the first room I stayed in.

Saki, standing right where she'd taken the addled two-tail from me nearly a season ago, gives her elder sister a faint dip of the head. "Akemi's details are bound to be different. She's not one to lie, especially if Shizuka cornered her for gossip. Naive assumptions would only spread from there."

Sour displeasure sets into the edges of Rin's eyes and droops her ears. "They wouldn't think I've only been watching over Egil to protect you, sister, would they?"

"Shizuka knows I've been interested in Egil."

"Of course she does," Rin grumbles.

Hearing that, I have to wonder if Shizuka and Miki's uninvited visit to my bath had happened before or after the seven-tail knew.

More pressing matters slump Rin's shoulders. "Meiko is on all our minds."

An almost flinching hesitation slows Saki's nod, if not keeps her quiet. I touch her arm, if for nothing else to let her know I'm here.

Rin softens, newfound strength lifting her ears. "How many would think it's only you and Egil?"

"At least half." Saki's eyes rise once more, hiding any pain behind that cold mask she so easily slips into. "Fire spreads slower than rumors among our sisters."

"Why are we worrying about that?" I interrupt, fox ears and gazes gliding toward me from opposite directions.

I take a step back so that I can hold the hand of each while getting them both in my sight, all while letting the stubborn smile I feel show through. "We can quickly end any mistaken assumptions."

Rin lifts a brow ever so slightly, curious and hopeful instead of withering. "Oh?"

Wrapping an arm around Rin's waist and pulling her close, while guiding Saki toward me as well, I say, "Quick rumors can be useful. Especially now that indecision isn't binding our hands, I can be brash as a man of my land is used to."

Slow as a sun's rise yet warm as its summer setting, the white of Rin's cheeks takes on a faint pink hue that I can only see because we're so close. Still, she returns my grin, and doesn't hesitate to press into me. Saki is silent, though the soft smile playing at the edge of her mouth and the way she fits snugly against me makes up for it.

"I should have expected such a suggestion," Rin murmurs contemplatively.

Saki, tail tips nudging on my arm until she's got it around her waist like she wants, says, "Do you dislike it, sister?"

"Not at all."

Rin suddenly kisses my cheek. She tries not to glance away as the insides of her ears burn, guiding my hand off of her waist. But not to keep me away, no. She takes hold of that arm with both of hands, as if it's hers. I suppose, with how serious I was last night and this morning, she and Saki have equal claim. And claim they do, both kitsune holding onto me in their own way, sharing for reasons I dare not question.

Women are a magic all their own.

With both of them seemingly content, Rin guides us down the hall, somehow maintaining a noble poise and commanding presence. If any of her sisters saw us, even addled by illness they'd be unable to mistake the way she holds onto me.

---

The familiar door-wall to the kitchens opens with a flick from Rin's tail, a trick I appreciate when her hands are busy clinging to one of mine.

Within, there's no one around the two hearths, although a low fire smolders in both. Before I can glance at either Saki or Rin to see if this is unexpected, I hear voices and muted laughter. Nudges from at least five tails and Rin hugging my arm to herself urge me inside. One of my kitsune lovers clacks shut the door behind us, though I can't tell which.

We make it two steps before what I thought was just a screened wall on the other side of the room slides open. Akemi stands there, half turned to laugh at something said in the larger kitchens, where the scent of stew emerges, oblivious to us.

But only for another step, led by Rin, as is proper for the master of this mountain home.

The three-tail looks back in shock, eyes wide and tails frizzing as she nearly jumps off her feet. A hand on her chest to still her startled heart, Akemi's gaze flicks between Saki and Rin, before noticing me. I'm not certain if seeing her two eldest sisters hold onto me so endearingly gave such a startle, or if she hadn't heard us at all.

As if expecting Akemi's stunned silence, Saki drifts ahead a step, looking back fondly at me while holding onto my arm with her tails for a moment I almost get lost in. That wasn't to make a point for Akemi, but because she wanted to as a lover. Saki arranges cushions before the nearest smoldering hearth, putting the three of them so close together there can be no mistaking her intentions.

Right then, two more kitsune come into view.

"Akemi, what is..." Mariko falls silent, stiffening into a bow to her elder sisters.

Peeking into view beside her is a particularly fluffy four-tailed kitsune I've seen before, I think, but never heard the name of – shameful considering how long I've stayed in their home. This four-tail bows as well, a contemplative, if not devious look seeming to gleam in her eyes at the sight of us. Whether it's Rin holding onto me or Akemi frozen in place, perhaps both, I won't guess what intrigues her so.

"Eldest sister," Akemi bows at last to hide her confused nerves, "do you need anything?"

The master of the mountain, head of the family, considers the question, but doesn't answer. She instead guides me to the center cushion with all the formality and grace befitting her position. Once I'm seated, legs comfortably crossed instead of sitting on my knees, she joins me, her refined posture abandoned. Saki smoothly takes my other side and clings on in a manner I'm certain she can rise from in a heartbeat if needed. I don't try to imagine what we look like, else I might laugh or worse, let doubts fester again.

I didn't know what sort of brashness they'd choose, only that they agreed with my suggestion. The pair keep their sisters waiting, Rin and Saki each occupying one of my hands with theirs. A warm hearth in front of me, two kitsune lovers at my arms, and their thoughtful touch keeping claws far from my skin, I can indeed make myself rest while a point is made to their sisters.

Rin finally speaks, sweet and caring, without a hint of reproach. "Prepare us a few bowls, when you can."

I don't dare look at her. If I do, then the composed nine-tail, master of the mountain and head of the kitsune family, might start blushing through her fur in embarrassment. That wouldn't do at all. Especially in front of her three little sisters obviously struggling to understand what they're seeing.

"A-at once," Akemi stumbles over the words, deepening her bow.

"There is no hurry, my dear sisters," Rin says, patting my hand.

Saki doesn't have to say anything and just dips her head in agreement, all while holding onto me with a degree of dignity that must seem at odds with the affection they're both showing. How they manage it is a pleasant mystery, for a change.

Wisely, Mariko and the four-tailed kitsune quietly disappear deeper into the additional kitchen before Akemi. Unable to recollect her scattered wits, she joins them in a daze.

I doubt it's cunning that leaves the door-wall open, though if it is I don't mind. The scents of stewing herbs and smoked fish fill the room, my stomach glad there will soon be something to eat. Hopefully the three kitsune in the kitchens don't drop anything when they come back in and see their eldest sisters still leaning so fondly into me.

Waiting a few dozen heartbeats first, I glance at Rin. A sleeve lifts to her mouth, not quite hiding a thin smile, and some lingering nerves, as her fingers squeeze mine.

"This might've worked too well," I whisper.

Saki only settles into me more, while Rin's smile deepens.

"So you know," she whispers into her sleeve, "at least one of my dear little sisters will ask you about us. Whenever they can work up the courage to approach you, that is."

"I didn't think our situation would be this startling to them."

"I had hoped it wouldn't," Rin murmurs.

"Then should we sit properly to see what they'd do?" I ask, unable to keep the beginnings of a grin from my face.

"They would certainly bother you if we did that. Although," Rin breathes a chuckle, "the looks on their faces would almost be worth it."

Saki lets out a stern, quiet huff that promises repercussions for their sisters should they try to bother me. That unspoken threat makes Rin bury a laugh into her sleeve to quiet it. Taken in by the relaxed mood, it's quite the effort to keep myself from laughing as well. I withstand it, feeling the nine-tail settle in just a little more.

"I'll have to be cunning another time then," I say, soft fur ruffling under my fingers.

"Your brashness appears to favor us," Rin muses, sleeve lowering, resting atop my hand she already holds.

There's much I could tease or promise, but with the hushed tones farther in the kitchens belonging to hidden, listening ears it must all wait for another time. Squeezing their hands, I try to enjoy the peace of the moment and their presence for what it is. Saki and Rin seem content with that as well, the burdens we put on ourselves through the winter discarded for the moment. Let their sisters guess if we're making an unspoken declaration as lovers or playing a deception. I'm content with knowing what is the truth between us.

Resting like this, I'd drift asleep if I didn't need to stay upright. The smells from the kitchen help with staying awake, barely outdoing the comforting nest of tails against my back. Aches and soreness from my recent fight remain, reminding me I'm alive and awake, even though I'd love for nothing more than grabbing the two soft foxes and lying down again, with their tails nestling lovingly about me.

The coals have darkened when the three in the kitchens return, carrying pots and refreshing the fire with more charcoal and wood. Akemi sets two pots hanging, one smelling of smoked fish stew and the other a porridge, while that fluffy four-tail prepares cups of steaming warm water. Quiet and nervous gaze looking anywhere but me, Mariko finishes with the hearth first and scurries three steps back with a respectful bow.

"Thank you, my dear little sisters," Rin says, sitting up from her comfortable lean against me, Saki pulling away as well. "Will you share the meal and conversation with us?"

"We wouldn't want to intrude," says the four-tail whose name I don't know.

"You won't if you sit and join us," Rin offers, gazing meaningfully towards the opposite side of the hearth.

"Ah, our i-ill sisters must be served," Mariko nervously utters.

"You may join after, if you so wish," Rin says. "If we wanted privacy, we'd be in my rooms."

The smooth nod and faint smile from Saki has more weight than any words. Maybe the same weight as my own nod, however.

Mariko bows, taking the opportunity to shuffle back to the kitchen, her three tails vanishing from sight. All while Akemi fidgets between glancing after her fleeing sister and the pair at my sides.

"She'll need help," says the fluffy four-tail I only recognize, her manner far less anxious. "Once we're done, I'll return."

"Do as you wish," Rin says, taking my bowl for Saki to begin filling it with stew. "And Miyu, while you attend them, please do keep any of our recovering sisters from trying to join. They need their rest."

"You needn't worry about their rest," declares the four-tail with a bow. "What should I tell the others?"

"They may go where they wish, as always."

There's a quick nod, and then a slow retreat to the kitchen by the fluffy, four tailed Miyu.

This once again leaves only Akemi, awkwardly standing nearby with her hands folded in her sleeves before her. "Th-there's something I need to do."

"What is that?" Rin asks, curious instead of overbearing – not that it might matter to her younger sister.

It's not quite fear or anxiousness gripping the three-tail. "Hotaru and I have something for Egil."

The warm bowl Rin hands me is the only reason I don't tense up. What keeps Rin and Saki from stiffening or flicking a tail, I do not know. The eight-tail starts filling another bowl while the master of the mountain cocks her head ever so slightly.

"I-if I could get Saki's help with it," Akemi stammers out, "we haven't known what to do."

An explanation doesn't come in any hurry from the three-tail.

Saki waits until she's finished ladling stew to ask, "What is the problem?"

"There's no problem! It is..." Akemi flicks her eyes up toward the three of us, then back down. "It's something you'll know best about, Saki. Once you see it."

"Show me, then," Saki says, effortlessly rising in a single motion.

I struggle not to think about what else those strong legs can do – which would probably please her, if she knew.

Rin stares up at the eight-tail, then turns to Akemi. "Shouldn't this wait until after the meal?"

"It can!" Akemi nods vigorously, trying not to look at anything but the ground.

"Now is better than later. The coals will keep ours warm," Saki says, politely bowing toward me before she glides over to Akemi. "Please, do not wait for us."

The younger sister, obviously worried she did something wrong, keeps herself from shrinking away.

With Saki's tails gone, Rin spreads hers more evenly across my back. The two might share a nod as well, or their heads simply tilt a little more. "We'll wait for you, but not for the meal, then."

"If whatever it is happens to be too much trouble, do return," I add, catching the eight-tail's eye.

Faint smile undeniable, bow slight, Saki straightens up. Chilly expression a mask once more, she gestures for Akemi to lead the way. The younger kitsune tries not to leap toward the door, seeming more confused and startled than anything like anxious. I keep an eye on them as they leave, trying not to stare too much at Saki's enticing rear. She softly slides shut the door-wall with a tail. That's a trick I do wish I understood – though the shift of her hip distracts me from it more than it should.

Supple and strong, especially in her lower half, how could I not be distracted now that I can allow myself a few looks? It's the same for her sister, Rin's soft bosom and form drawing my gaze easily.

There's silence, even from the hearth's coals, as it's only Rin, myself, and whoever might be listening in the kitchens. The moment stretches on, the master of the house staring at the opening where Miyu and Mariko retreated to, her face placid.

I almost expect to hear something drop in the other room, with how intently Rin stares. The moments pass as I consider blowing on my stew, the bowl almost too hot to hold, or letting it cool during the wait.

Suddenly, Rin declares, "They've all left."

"Is there another door in the kitchen?" I ask.

"There are two more, but only one leads outside. They will be taking a meal to the others through there." She breathes out, on the edge of a sigh, and shakes her head. "Tell me, Egil. Do you think this was planned, or merely an opportunity?"

I have to consider that for a moment. "The pair of us being alone?"

"Yes," she tilts her head.

"I doubt there was any plot."

"I expect nothing devious from them." A brow rises on her fox face. "Akemi, however, I cannot imagine what she and Hotaru have for you."

"Akemi hardly seems devious. Hotaru – she's the five-tail, with markings like the path of tears," I ask, tracing the shape on my own face with one finger, "and good with some sort of magic fire, right?"

"That's her." A low chuckle escapes Rin. "'Like the path of tears.' A little more and you might make poetry of that, Egil."

"There's no point unless it's about you or Saki. Not in the tongue of this land, or of my homeland," I say, making her lift a sleeve and lid her eyes just a little, bemusement folded with intrigue. "As I was saying about Hotaru, she seemed too responsible and serious for me to worry about."

Collecting her composure, Rin tilts her head. "She's reliable, but after what you've done for my family..."

The words hang seriously for her, and like soaked, freezing clothes for me. What happened at the village needs to stay there, at least a while longer.

I set my bowl and reach over, putting a hand on her leg, to still the unease under my ribs and move the conversation away from dark paths. "If I get another drunk visitor, should Saki and I toss them out before or after your reprimands?"

Rin is tense, caught entirely off guard, but only for a moment. Blue eyes, free from duty, smirk where her mouth doesn't.

"Saki chasing them out is enough punishment," she says, fingers brushing over the back of my hand before settling there.

"So you can stay with me and make a point?" I ask and twist to gently grab her hand in mine.

An undignified, conflicted laugh tilts her head, Rin setting down her bowl at last. "Would they believe it? I am head of the family to them, and nothing more it seems."

There's nothing I can say, not as a man who ran from his own family. Any attempt would be hollow words from a brittle tongue. Neither of us need that. But with kitsune fingers warming my own, there's something better I can do than talk.

With a glance near the hearth to eye how much room I have, I lean over and embrace Rin. Nine tails stiffen at once, then droop into me along with the rest of her soft form. She doesn't need to be a warrior for me to understand she's more than she seems. Gently I pull her closer, a tiny sound of fox surprise leaving Rin, before she eagerly shuffles with me. We get her bumped up beside me, ears tickling the top of my head while her locks spill over my shoulder, giving to her what my words can't.

I rub her shoulder through her dress and turn – my eyes closing – to kiss her cheek. Warm fur, scent of incense and dried herbs clinging to her still, tickles across my nose, bringing forth some of the few happy memories I have from this land, of meals and evenings speaking to her as a rare friend.

Soft pads caress my hand, the ones we hold switching, while one of Rin's tails curls up over my empty shoulder.

"Do you mean to distract me?" she asks in a whisper.

"Of course. Along with myself," I reply, silken fur caressing my knuckles. "What others see when they return hardly matters now, does it?"

A halfhearted huff sighs out of Rin, which has her shuffle closer. "That depends."

"Upon what?"

Fur ruffles against my cheek. "Why you came to find me."

"What makes you certain it was me?"

"Aside from this position you have us in?" she asks, teasingly. "Saki made it clear to me, when we were finally settling our self-made trouble, she prefers following. She and I..." Rin's voice trails off. Then returns with a nuzzle against me. "It must have been you that sought me out. With or without her devious encouragement."

Ignoring that faltering moment, trusting instead in her sure tone free of jealousy or hurt, I think back on the conversation Saki and I shared in the garden. There's no question that she could've pushed events this direction. But it's easier to see everything that lead up to this moment as Saki twisting and turning with events as they happened. That's more fitting for a warrior like her.

"I was growing dangerously restless," I admit. "It was my idea to find you, and Saki eagerly agreed."

"What had you so restless with Saki by your side?" Rin asks, honest and interested.

I explain what I learned from her sister about the prisoner, paying heed to any small motion from Rin. When I admit to being dangerously tempted to deal with their problem in the forest, she squeezes my hand, but keeps listening without interruption. When I've finished, the nine-tail holds my side and shifts until we're eye to eye, her nose a hair from mine.

"It settles my heart to hear you'll trust us," she murmurs. "Did Saki tell you about the seals?"

"She mentioned them, but I shouldn't know more."

"For our husk of a plan that risks you as bait," Rin breathes out weakly.

"Plans can change, which we shouldn't worry about now. Saki and I both agreed as much when coming to find you," I say, focusing my own nerves, bristling from threats restrained so near, by stroking Rin's locks.

Silken smooth hair whispers through my fingers. I have to be careful not to touch near her ears while we're not in true privacy, but the gentle motion soothes more than me.

"Egil," she says softly as her fur, "getting lost in this distraction is all I want, but there's something I must tell you."

Hardening my heart for trouble, but keeping calm, I ask, "What is it?"

The white haired kitsune twists against me, without peeling away. A single fox eye gleams with the hearth's warmth, watching, vulnerable and adoring all at once. "It is about Miki," she murmurs. "She wanted me to tell you how grateful she is for rescuing her."

Though my hands don't falter, my heart sinks enough it might miss a few beats. "How is she?"

"She's tougher than any of us knew," Rin answers. The nine-tail shakes her head ever so slightly. "Few, if any, scars will be left on her spirit."

Unspoken and clear as a mountain stream is that there will be terrible scars left upon her flesh.

"Then don't tell her about the guilt I feel for being slow to save her," I make myself mutter. "If she blames herself, it shouldn't be made worse by me."

Squeezing my hand, Rin reassures me with a smile I didn't expect. "Miki already guessed you felt guilty, be that from womanly intuition or one of my insightful sisters speaking with her."

"If she's worried, then you can tell her I'll be fine."

"I will," Rin promises, so sure and bright it's difficult for me to not look away.

Delicate thumbpads brush across my skin, Rin's touch tender on my hand and careful upon my cheek. She's leaning, as am I, keeping me from falling into melancholy whether she knows it or not. And I have to wonder, hope even, if I've been doing the same for her.

"Once she's in better health," Rin says, "she would appreciate a visit from you."

I don't let my gaze slip away, lest the rest of me follow.

"With her feelings for me, would that be wise?" I ask, not wanting to let silence take over. "A young woman saved by a man she so obviously pined for, it doesn't matter the land, that tale is the same everywhere."

Rin creeps close enough that wisps of her warm breath flow over my mouth. "Does the man's heart already rest elsewhere?"

"Two of her sisters have the entirety of my heart, as you should know," I say, not needing more than a whisper, lest I lean in and kiss her.

"Then Miki will be disappointed, not broken, if you visit her."

"Shouldn't Saki know about this?"

"Saki will," Rin tilts her head forward, angling a knowing smile up, "and has entrusted me with matters of our little sisters."

Obvious or otherwise, I won't be prying into what else that could mean. "You're certain Miki won't be distraught to see she has no chance?"

"Shizuka will comfort Miki again if she is."

After inciting the two-tail last time, or so it seemed to me. My concern for the wounded kitsune has certainly sharpened from when I met her on my first night upon this mountain.

"If you're so certain," I say, "would it be impolite if I asked for you or Saki to join me in that visit?"

"Not at all, though both of us with you will intimidate her."

"You two know your sisters, and these winding halls of this home, best. We'll work out the details another day," I say, trying to smile – and not being able to force it through the murk in my chest.

"If it eases the guilt gnawing at you," Rin says, nudging closer, as if she can chase away what's in my heart, "I still have my littlest sister thanks to you, Egil. And who knows how many more, with all that you've done for us."

What warrior doesn't quietly despise themselves for failing to be swifter, or strike true when it mattered most? But I don't want to argue with someone staring so lovingly at me, someone that's never shied away from what she sees clearly in me, so I keep my mouth shut. I've kept the worst of the melancholy away, but it must make it onto my brow and beneath my eyes with the way Rin watches me.

"I see why you needed a distraction," she murmurs, drawing me in with weary, sympathetic understanding woven through those words.

Some of my earlier rashness must've stuck in Rin, as she leans in and suddenly kisses me. Ever so carefully upon the lips, white of her face tinged pink and uncertainty swimming deep in glacial blue. The hesitant move from her catches me unaware. I'm slow to react to the affection with the hammering in my chest – but when it's not fear that courses through my limbs, I lean into her awkward kiss with unbounded want. Despite me still learning about kitsune, her inexperience shines through mine. That doesn't matter. Her earnest tenderness lets me close my eyes and feel only her summer wind warm love.

Rin breaks the moment, breathing a little deeper, right against my mouth.

"I dared not hope that we could do that," she mutters, bashful shame turning her away.

I respond by pulling a surprised kitsune into my lap – and have her cling onto me for my troubles. She's taller, there are bowls and pots of food in the way and a hearth as well, but we get settled in without scorching the hems of our clothes or knocking anything over. Sitting in front of me as much as on me, her legs turned off to the side, she drapes her arms over my shoulders, head tilted down and looking into my eyes.

"That was just what I needed," I say, brushing a lock away and stroking her smiling cheek. "That wasn't gratitude guiding you, was it?"

"No," piercing blue levels with my gaze, "that was pure selfishness. You aren't the only one who needs a distraction, if you remem-"

This time I catch her in a kiss, stealing away her words – delighting in how weak the fang fearing panic is at the edge of my thoughts.

"I do remember," I say a breath later.

Rin's thin whiskers brush across my nose, the nine-tail leaning in and all but begging for more. "Once Saki and I can get you alone again, we'll have more than a distraction."

Against the tide of passion urging me toward her, I hold back enough to speak a fleeting curiosity, and to stare into her eyes a little longer.

"Another agreement between you two?" I ask.

"Better than that," she says, a grin only for me touching her eyes. "Saki assured me she could get you kissing, and so she has."

"And bold as her, you tried without knowing," I murmur against Rin's mouth, promising another meeting but holding back – teasing myself as much as her.

Yearning hums in her throat, noble dignity and sensuous composure held in an uncertain balance.

"It's one of the hopes that's kept me going all day," Rin softly says. "I nearly tried when the day started, but feared I'd not be able to leave if my clumsy first kiss was accepted."

"Our first kiss, or your first kiss?"

A little groan rides upon her warm breath. "Both, if I must admit to my shameful inexperience."

Stroking her shoulder, brushing through locks of her pure white hair, I say, "There's no shame. And even if you feel it, I'll change that."

I gently cusp the back of her head and pull her in, taking her breath away by joining my lips and hers. Rin squirms eagerly in my lap, passion entwining us, our hands unable to stay still. I'm wrapped in a relentlessly tender embrace, little hints of being lost and hesitation in how she clings to me. Seeking guidance that I happily give.

Rin learns by encouragement, her lips always mindful against mine, following my lead while her excitement starts to stir something else in my lap. Letting go of my constant worries gnawing at me, I give into the hunger – for far more than our forgotten meal – that courses across my skin and stands up hairs on my neck. Rin's pace, her taste, the scent beneath the herbs and incense in her fur, all of her is different than Saki. I adore it all the same, and want to give Rin something to remember. Not to repay her for the hospitality, the care, the understanding – but pure selfishness, as she said.

Be it greed or love I can finally face, I want them both. Alone or together, there's no denying the desire they've unbound and stoked after last night.

Old fears are nothing more than a distant chill half forgotten. There's a beauty sitting in my lap and moaning happily as we forget everything but the feeling of our bodies so close, and how rightly we fit together. Two friends that want so much more.

Before either of us gets too caught up in the moment, I break my kiss with the kitsune clinging to me.

"It does not trouble you, does it?" she asks, barely keeping a moan from rising out of her throat.

"That you've never done this?"

Rin nods, adding a quiet, "And much more."

I answer with another kiss. When she starts to believe me, a hand resting carefully behind my neck, I pull back just enough to say, "No. Thrice I'll swear it, and seal it with a kiss should you wish, if that's what it takes to slay your doubt."

"Knowing how serious you are is enough," she giggles, trying to hide nerves that her blushing ears betray. "However, any kisses you wish to give, I'll gladly receive. Or take for myself in the mornings."

"Not if I give them to you two first," I grin.

"If that thrill in my heart when you grabbed me is what Saki meant by the joy of giving in, I'd be pleased if you try," Rin says.

"Is it a race to see who wakes first?"

"Saki and I won't mind losing, I believe."

I can't help but chuckle and give a light kiss upon her lips.

"Do you two plot anything else?" I ask into Rin's heavy breath, brushing my fingers through her rich locks.

"Of course. We're kitsune."

I raise a brow at her but don't dare to draw back from her comfort.

A fox-like giggle washes over my lips, Rin's nose nuzzling mine. "It is not just your mouth I want to try kissing."

"And you've already gotten Saki's help," I say, keeping concern and excitement to myself - I have to trust they'll avoid my unseen scars.

"Enthusiastically," Rin says, diving towards my lips for a shared breath.Convincing me I'm right to believe in them. "Though she has yet to convince me of everything she likes."

"We'll learn what you like," I promise.

Rin, an intrigued look in her eye, suddenly freezes, back stiffening and ears twisting towards the entrance.

I relax my hold, moving a hand to her shoulder from her low back, and glance at the door-wall. Floor boards creak and muffled conversation approaches. I spare Rin a questioning glance, and she quickly turns her head down before her pouting uncertainty flashes too many fangs my way. The nine-tail eases off my lap, mostly, to sit beside me, but still keeps an arm draped across me, along with her tails, while she brushes a few mussed locks back into place. She doesn't seem to be hiding anything, collecting herself as she does, only putting back on the polite, dignified bearing she let slip away for me. To avoid startling her younger sisters too much, I suspect.

It's a good thing I laid with Saki earlier, or else the stirring in my loins would be stiff instead of in an early and unnoticed rise. Rin and I both try to calm ourselves, her inner ear faintly flushed. I have to set aside the building passion until we're in her rooms – or the baths – again.

The muffled talk outside the door-wall quiets, wood hissing as a sleeve slides it open. Gliding in on silent steps, taking in the whole room without looking, Saki comes right toward us. She's got something folded up in richly patterned silk carried like a tray, and she spares me one of her blade edge thin smiles – angled so only Rin and I can see it.

There's no jealousy in her knowledge of what we were up to. If anything, she's pleased to know it happened so easily.

Trailing in behind the eight-tail are Akemi, Miyu, Mariko, and trailing behind them all is the slender Tsubame. The looks on their faces, seeing Rin and I holding each other as far more than friends, runs from startle, disbelief, to questioning.

Then Saki kneels near me, setting down the neatly folded bundle before shuffling close enough to curl tails against me, in a spot that Rin makes way for with her own. The little motion makes the other kitsune stir, if not share glances. Whatever doubt remained in them won't survive much longer.

"Manners don't demand you stand around," Rin says offhandedly, sharing a fleeting look with Saki while their sisters scurry to find places to sit.

Three take places on the other side of the hearth from us, while Mariko shuffles off for the other kitchen room. Given the extra company, I assume she's off to fetch more bowls and cups.

"What was this task that could not wait?" Rin asks, dipping her nose toward the silk bundle before Saki.

Akemi speaks up. "That- that's for elder sister to explain."

It's a good thing Rin or Saki don't look over at her, or the three-tail would wilt.

A twinge of regret finds me. If I'd been more personable this winter, none of the sisters would be so stiff, and this mess with Rin and Saki could've been settled sooner.

Saki, unconcerned after our morning spent together, lifts a corner of the bundle, not fully revealing everything under the silk.

I can feel my brow creep up, my hand almost reaching for the weapon resting on the edge of a thin cushion. Bare metal exposed, sheath elsewhere, is a dagger I know very well.

"Where did you find this?" I ask, glancing up at Saki, then to Akemi.

The three-tail shrinks a little when she notices, but smiles, showing a few fangs and teeth that she quickly covers when Tsubame bumps her elbow. The reprimand is sudden enough to distract me from the unsettling display – and to leave me wondering how much they know about my fear.

Akemi gathers herself, clearing her throat, and says, "Hotaru and I found your dagger on our way back up the mountain. We cleaned it best we could, but the tip was chipped. We didn't want to hone it without your leave."

Turning away from them, I pick up my returned dagger. I hadn't forgotten about it, but with all that was going on that night in the village, worrying about a lost weapon would've been a deadly distraction. Afterward I've tried not to dwell on the fights, but to see the familiar dagger again is a relief I'd not expected. It's one of the few possessions I'd miss.

As Akemi said, the point snapped off, though barely more than a notch. The blade's not bent. Instead it's been polished to smooth sheen, without a trace of sheath wear or scratches remaining, and there's the scent of oil on the metal, the same sort as on Saki's knives and spear. A few new scratches on the hilt, but otherwise the balance and heft is reliable.

"Thank you," I say to Akemi, meaning it more than she knows. "Please give my gratitude to Hotaru as well. I hadn't thought I'd see this again."

"It was nothing," she says, head flicking down more than bowing. "We saw it on the way up, half buried in mud, that's all. A-and I will tell Hotaru."

"Fortune didn't see my dagger polished better than when I was first given it," I say, thumb brushing the edge. "Are either of you artisans?"

"Not at all," Akemi says while Tsubame shakes her head. The six-tail looks ready to cut off her younger sister, but the three-tail speaks faster. "Saki and Akiho taught us how to care for knives."

"Akiho isn't on the mountain," Rin explains before I even try to recall whether I've heard the name before. "She's a reclusive blacksmith in a village near the capital."

Asking what else their family does off the mountain will be good conversation, another time.

"It's excellent work," I say, setting the dagger back on the silk bundle. There's no need for me to carry it around when the sheath is on my belt, which is wherever Saki took it. "I'll try not to ruin the effort when putting a point back on."

"I'll see it sharpened, if you prefer," Saki offers, folding the cloth back over the dagger.

"I'd gladly leave that to any of the expert hands here," I say, nearly adding that my hands will be busy with other tasks tonight.

I'll keep that thought to myself; Rin doesn't need to burn crimson under her fur just yet.

There's a bouncing nod from Akemi, but it's Saki who keeps my attention. She unfolds a different part of the bundle, revealing a dagger in a lacquered scabbard. Picking up this new dagger, sized for hands like hers and with a ringed pommel like those I saw in the land I sailed from before here, Saki offers it to me with the weight of ceremony that subdues her younger sisters.

"One of Akiho's many crafts," Saki says. "I trust my life with all of her steel."

"High praise," I say, taking the foreign dagger.

A glance at it and Saki's subtle nod are all I need to draw a finger's span of the blade. Straight, double edged, a little wider than I'm used to, and a guard made from ornate brass. Drawing it the rest of the way, there's a slightly offset point, more suited for a single edged weapon. I slide it back into its sheath, silently thanking Saki – earning a dip of the head from her – understanding this is meant for fighting and not as a tool. Being armed once more is a relief I hadn't known I needed.

"Not what I'm used to," I say, the ringed pommel unfamiliar to my thumb, "but getting too comfortable can be dangerous."

"I can show you a few tricks."

"I'll look forward to that."

Before I can set it back on the bundle, Rin touches my elbow.

"Allow me," she says, slipping the dagger from my relenting grasp.

With deftness born of practice that I hadn't expected from the nine-tail, she slips it into the sash on my waist, using a leather cord on the sheath to secure it in place. I'm fussed over by Saki as well, who leans over and tightens my sash. Once they pull back, I put a hand on the unfamiliar pommel, finding it's not in the way, and let a smile soften my expression. Seated before a warm hearth, with such company, I might even forget the gifted weapon at my hip after our meal.

The younger kitsune, including Mariko, return carrying extra bowls and cups as I expected, pretending not to watch us while portioning out their food.

"Thank you," I say to Rin, and Saki as well, with a bow of my head. "I'll treat it well until its return."

"It's yours," Saki says.

"What she means," Rin lays a friendly palm upon my wrist, "is that a warrior such as yourself should have what he needs."

"If that's so, does that cushion carry something for her as well?"

A tail swishing near Saki's lap, she lifts a hand. Twirling between her fingers is an iron needle, long as one of those cursed eating sticks – hashi – that she holds delicately. "I never want for a weapon."

"Why not carry a dagger of your own?"

"She has at least two somewhere on her," Rin says, a smile on the edge of her voice.

Out of respect for their family in the room, I hold my tongue from saying something about searching Saki thoroughly tonight. I'm still riled up from having Rin in my lap, it seems.

"You needn't worry about me," Saki says, vanishing the deadly needle, back into a sleeve or her tail I cannot tell. "I'm as prepared as you, Egil."

Another soft hand touches me, the eight-tail needing to say no more.

She moves the bundle away, a soft clink of wood or bone making me believe there's more hidden there. Not that it matters.

Under the poorly hidden gazes of their younger sisters, Saki and Rin settle in beside me, sitting close instead of properly on their knees. Rin hands me the bowl I'd set aside in favor of her, tails from both of them warding away the cold as the meal begins.

Surprise no longer lurks in the kitsune across the hearth. Curiosity burns along with the coals, left unsatisfied as they murmur among themselves about chores instead.

No questions come my way, only suspicious glances flicking by that I hardly notice as we start eating.

The meal grows quiet as it goes on, favoring food over all but the lightest conversation. Staring down into stew or near the hearth, keeping my sight from the polite foxes all around me, cold and restless thoughts hunt in my heart. I've had plenty of practice avoiding any glance of fangs, letting the swipes of that fear miss. Staying the thoughts of what's kept contained in the forest and their familial shrine is far more difficult.

Through a bowl of stew then porridge, both lose taste as waking nightmares prickle along my neck, wanting to take hold. I endure. The firm grip of bandages still tied above my brow are reminder enough to keep my fingers busy with eating instead of upon that new dagger.

Empty bowls are a relief. I set them down, silently turning down Saki's unspoken offer for seconds, and try to relax against her and Rin's tails.

My fingers reach for the pendant on my neck, the silver shape not the reminder I want. Beneath that, hidden in my clothes, the small silk bag of a gift charm rests against my skin. More precious than the dagger in easy reach, the magic still faintly buzzing within has no power to calm the fears that will never leave me. It soothes the feeling at the nape of my neck anyway, without the help of anything mystical.

There's the stirring of several foxes across the room, making my hand drift away from my neck.

"Is no one going to ask?" Tsubame says, stern gaze sweeping over Akemi, Miyu, and Mariko.

"Sister," chides Miyu, four fluffy tails rigid.

Tsubame's look is haughty. "There is nothing wrong with asking."

I pick up my cup, the water within no longer wispy with steam, and listen to what I can feel brewing.

"You are the one with a question," Miyu says.

"Just because you have no curiosity doesn't mean the rest of us lack," Tsubame's chin lifts arrogantly. "Akemi has been bubbling with it since-"

"I have not been-" Akemi tries to say, being cut off by the dangerous tilt of Tsubame's head.

"Come now," the six-tail says, "you and Mariko both want to know."

"You are the one who mentioned it," Akemi says, frustration quivering in a single tail.

"See, you do want to ask," Tsubame says, a smug smile in her voice.

Tripped up on her own words, and unable to hide it, Akemi flounders.

Only for Miyu to cut in, "Yet you, elder sister, are the one who brought it up."

"Hmph. None of you three would even know how to ask if I didn't give you the chance," Tsubame insists.

Easily guessing what this is about, my eyes shift toward Rin, then Saki. Neither seem ready to make a move to stop their sisters' continuing bickering, though two tails do sneakily rub against my back.

I don't need to be so careful around the kitsune anymore.

"What's this question?" I ask, blunt as a hammer stroke.

Not a tail across the hearth can stay still, ears twitching my way. Tsubame stares right at me, arrogance quelled by something unseen, while Akemi and Miyu share a surprised glance. Mariko seems to shrink in upon herself, and for her sake I pretend not to notice the startle that rippled down her tails.

What a poor guest I've been, to cause such a wave of disbelief only by speaking my mind. Not that such a change slows them for more than a handful of heartbeats.

Then all at once they speak.

"My little sisters are too naive-"

"Egil, are you-"

"What is the-"

Tsubame, Akemi and Miyu all talk over each other, three voices overlapping and drowning out anything else I could hear from them. Until it stops as quickly as it began, Tsubame rolling her eyes.

A laugh makes it out of me, quieting the three of them and making Akemi and Miyu shift nervously. Ears are certainly warm with embarrassment. The aloof, dignified expression Saki has is the same, distant mask she so often wears, focused more on moving a pot farther from the coals than what her sisters are up to. Rin, hand upon my arm, shares an amused look with me while hiding her mouth, and a chuckle, with a sleeve.

I face the three kitsune that spoke. "I'm supposed to rest today, so I'll answer what I can. No need for any hurry."

Surprise fidgets through tail tips and ears once more, but the slight six-tail keeps her composure better than the rest.

"Then I must let my little sisters go before me," Tsubame says, as if reveling in the ire her tone will bring her.

Miyu falls for it, nose tilting down derisively. "Not the most cunning plan to have us ask questions for you, sister."

Tsubame's face pulls an annoyed pout. "Does it look like I planned this?"

"Yes," says Miyu and Akemi, Mariko reluctantly nodding in agreement.

"She'll start tripping over her own tails if she did plan anything," Rin warmly says before delicately lifting and drinking from her cup, eyeing me knowingly. As if I'm an obvious snare on a path her much younger sisters have walked into.

"If eldest sister insists," Tsubame smiles insincerely.

Saki wipes that look away by coldly saying, "I insist."

"As you say," Tsubame bows lightly, immediately wiping the look off her face.

"Good that it's settled before fur started flying," Rin says lightheartedly, making me wonder if she's serious or softly chastising them.

Tsubame lifts her head, wisely not seeking a fight anymore.

"Egil," she says while staying perfectly still, as if one wrong move will get her pounced upon, "has what's troubled you this winter eased?"

I'm not about to walk into any snares. "What do you mean?"

"You've been recovering from injuries most of your stay," Tsubame smiles, arrogant yet kind. "That's been burdening your spirit, as we have all seen."

"I'm fine," I say, wary of carelessly giving thanks to the six-tail. Sweeping aside whatever game she's playing on her sisters has more appeal. "I didn't quite hear it the first time, though. What is it you believe your sisters are too naive about?"

"I'd never be so rude to say such a thing."

"Yes, you would," Akemi and Miyu say.

"Only about my younger sisters," Tsubame declares, their annoyance flowing off her like rain upon a well oiled blade. She focuses on me instead. "I wanted to warn you that my little sisters have such little experience, they will misjudge what's now so easy to see."

Rin sighs, done with the bickering before it begins again, her tone turning eyes away from me. "And what do you see, Tsubame? Speak your mind, please."

"Akemi misunderstood what she saw, and now she and other sisters should know better," Tsubame says with a slight tilt forward.

"Misunderstood what?" I ask.

"That our elder sisters offer," she holds on that word purposefully, "wise protection for our honored guest."

Rin sagely nods, before saying, "Is that what it appears to be?"

"You needn't put on for me, eldest sister, unlike the grand show you gave Akemi."

The three-tail in question looks uneasily at her six-tailed sister, a correct suspicion gnawing at the edge of Akemi's eyes. That only grows when Rin smiles her most polite, cutting smile. Mariko might be the only one that has a good guess of the truth, not that she looks eager to speak up and incur Rin's or Tsubame's frightful attention.

"I'm almost missing the word games of faeries, hearing all of this," I say to keep the young and naive kitsune from being sliced apart by their eldest sister's words.

Confusion and half-understanding narrow Tsubame's brow.

Rin hums out a smooth laugh, her dangerously polite smile leaving for a bemused one aimed right at me. "It would be worse if Hibiki were here."

"You won't say that after I tell you about the faeries," I say, avoiding most of a grimace. I shake my head to clear the memory, and look over at Rin and then Saki. Hiding none of my affection and desire, for but a moment. "Or how men of my land proudly boast about what's only been hinted at, yet stubbornly never said aloud."

"Need we boast?" Rin says, gazing deep into me.

I take her hand, and Saki's. "What do you two think?"

Brows rise across the hearth, disbelief striking even Tsubame squarely in the nose. They're finally starting to understand – and I'm regretting not keeping Rin in my lap so it would've been clear as a starry night sky.

"We've never spoken to you about the customs of this land," Rin says, palm pads heating up, even if her ears don't show it, "have we?"

"She means about courtship," Saki says.

"That we're far past that is why men of my land would feel boastful."

I'm midway through saying that when Saki lays an arm across my shoulder, the serious kitsune warrior leaning into me adoringly – without letting her cold expression change. All while one of her tails hooks around Rin's, behind my back, urging her sister to do the same as her. Rin does, unable – or forgetting – to glamour away the blush burning beneath the white fur of her cheeks.

While their sisters try to figure out if this is real or not, Rin says, "I suppose we should warn Egil that, by the customs of the royal capital, two more nights and it would be seen as a marriage. Not that those are our customs."

Shocked to the point of fur puffing up, Akemi's jaw drops. Mariko somehow appears to shrink farther away without moving. Tsubame sits straight as a pillar, like one of her tails was stomped on. And wide-eyed Miyu puts a sleeve to her mouth before shutting Akemi's for her. Splashing them with half frozen water would've gotten less of a reaction. A thrum of startle pounds even through me, though it quiets as quick as it came.

A handful of offers were made to me in the past, from those I helped. The most uncomfortable being men trying to introduce me to their daughters or sisters after I fought side by side with them against a man-eater.

Not that I've been offered again, though the possibility must be on everyone's mind. An unexpected calm settles over me at the thought – not that I can give it much heed until I've fulfilled a different oath. I dare not say such a thing now, when victory is far away.

If Rin wasn't already blushing, she would when I ask, "What are the customs of your family?"

"Petitioning the head of the family, after agreeing to be together," Mariko says, voice quiet yet strangely self-assured.

She was the last one I expected to speak. I try not to stare at the timid, quiet kitsune lest I frighten her into a ball of curled up tails. Tsubame's sharp glare flicking over nearly does that to her anyway.

Rin tilts her head, a single blue eye glancing at me for a heartbeat. "There's a ritual across the mountain, ending at the shrines of ?-Inari and our ancestors," she says. "Afterward a banquet."

"Nothing so fleeting as the flaunting of fashion in the capital, or maneuverings of clans with arranged marriages," a quelled Tsubame says.

"Ah, eldest sister," Akemi mutters, wringing her hands. "Have I- are you and Egil actually... has none of it been an act to try and keep us from..."

"Has this," Miyu carefully cuts in, "not all been an act to help Saki and Egil?"

Tsubame scoffs and mutters, "Yuuko was right after all."

"My heart is not made of stone, my dear sisters." Rin squeezes my hand, glancing over my head at the quiet eight-tail. "Saki and I do not doubt what's in his heart, or his fondest dream."

A thought itches between my eyes. Before it can pierce through, Akemi fumbles with her sleeves, starting to drop into a bow that would put her forehead on the floor – only to have Tsubame's hand grab hold of the back of her dress. The slender six-tail scarcely stops herself from being dragged down as well, Miyu sluggishly coming to her aid.

Nothing can halt Akemi's rushed voice or pitifully bowed head. "My most sincere apology, elder sisters, I have made a horrible-"

"Hush, sister, do not fear and fret," Rin soothes. "You've done nothing wrong. It is a mistake of my making, not yours, that I never said Saki and I are with Egil."

My ancestors had better be laughing at us all for that.

Poor Akemi isn't calmed in the slightest. "But everyone will have heard what I said and-"

Rin huffs out a laugh. "Akemi, my darling little sister, the chatter behind closed doors and in halls will have forgotten it all by nightfall. Especially if you all tell Hibiki her fever made her delirious and she misheard."

"I'd not known, I am so sorry," the three-tail squeaks, Miyu and Tsubame both needed to keep her from banging her forehead against the floor in complete apology.

With a parting pat of my hand, Rin rises – the look at Saki telling her to stay with me – and goes to the three-tail.

Words whisper between the sisters, Rin patting Akemi on the head and back. I only hear a few faint words. "Miki... what happened... and... Meiko..."

Saki squeezes my fingers, surely catching mention of her lost yet desperately near twin, and more I don't. I pat her hand, wanting to assure her that my resolution hasn't faltered – not for the purpose I came to this mountain or my promises.

It's easy to guess, as it always has been, that I've been as much a concern to some of the sisters as I have a fascinating foreign man with a sword on his waist and hate for man-eaters carved into my flesh. What kitsune of this home wouldn't worry after what happened between Kenta and Meiko? After all, what new disaster would a foreign man like me bring?

Not that it changes anything. My word has been given. Even if I was chased out of this home, scorned by the two lovers I shared my tattered heart with, my steel would point at that oni.

Fur ruffles, Rin hugging Akemi and whispering comforting words. Warmth shines through her dignified manner, tender patience at last calming the three-tail that thought she'd done a terrible wrong. Even Tsubame seems softened by Rin's presence, something about Hibiki being said between them.

What an easy mistake it must be, to think Rin was their mother with her soft voice murmuring among the four younger sisters. A family indeed, not so lost in their customs and respect for a guest that they must hide their care for each other.

Is this the usual way of the kitsune? How much have I, a dangerous visitor turned something more than an honored guest, disturbed their home?

Calloused fingerpads turn my palm up, Saki silently taking hold with both hands. I glance toward her, catching icy brown eyes staring at nothing but watching everything before her. A hidden hurt I can't see finds comfort in my touch, tails sharing more than warmth. The doubts, regrets, and worse we suffer keep their distance. Trust between warriors sustains us long enough for Rin to give Akemi a hug and a few parting whispers to the rest, the nine-tail rising to dignified poise.

"Egil," she begins, looking at me, "will you stay a while? Or do you wish to retire for rest?"

"I'm already resting," I say.

Smiling, Rin drifts back around the hearth. The sisters she left move closer together, but I watch the woman who needs a comfort I can give.

Sleeves held before her, Rin returns to her spot. Before tails can give hints, I grab hold of Rin's waist and pull her closer. A stiff moment of startle collapses out from under her, Rin leaning once more into my side.

Try as they might, the younger sisters watching us hide little.

Whiskers tickle against my short beard, Rin hiding her mouth with a sleeve to whisper in my ear. "Some of them will think we planned everything."

If only we were that cunning. I keep my mouth shut and grunt, blue eyes smiling at mine. Rin lowers her sleeve into her lap, leaning her head against my shoulder. I expect Saki to do the same. The eight-tail, however, is content to keep my hand in hers.

Glancing about the room, remembering one of the first questions I asked the runes in this home, I put out of mind any wants I may have. If I'm not retiring, with one or two kitsune instead of for solitude, I should start acting like a good guest before the younger sisters get any more wrong ideas.

"Are there any more questions for me?" I ask.

Fear no longer fraying her nerves, Akemi starts to say something. Only to stop, gaze flicking to either side of me.

"Go ahead," I say, Saki's nod agreeing.

"I was wondering," Akemi stops herself from a habitual bow, "how long you'll be staying."

Rin hums on my shoulder. "We will be retiring for a private dinner, later."

"Until then," I agree, knowing the three-tail meant differently.

Thankfully the deflection is heeded, probably because it came from Rin. Nodding her head, any embarrassment easily hidden unlike before, Akemi asks, "Would you and elder sisters care for music? I'm not very good, but I've been practicing with Mariko."

Quiet and shy as ever, Mariko dips her head, sleeves nervously held in front of her.

If this wasn't discussed in their sisterly talk with Rin, then I'll be the startled one. Especially with her stirring against my shoulder.

"Do not be fooled by the humbleness," Rin says. "Akemi is quite skilled, while our dear Mariko is a master of any instrument she gets her hands on."

"I've heard little of this land's music, aside from your singing," I say, remembering my first trip down the mountain with Rin. "Though it seems no one wants to ask me anything else."

That riles up Tsubame more than I expected, but less than her younger sisters fear. The six-tail doesn't say anything or throw glares about. A restrained frown does more than enough to show her thoughts.

"Egil," Miyu speaks up, either defiant of Tsubame or seeking a way for Mariko to escape the burning red in her ears, "is there a story to your pendant?"

Hearing that, I reach for the silver rune, its touch sturdy as any oath.

"Not quite," I answer. "It's the symbol of a god that was falling from favor among many of my people. A god I respect."

"Sounds like there is a story," Tsubame observes.

"I'm no skald, but I learned as many stories about the gods as I could." Cold silver rubs between my fingers. "Especially this one."

"Any you would share?" Rin asks.

A glance to Saki, who pulls a tail against my back like a hug, and her relaxed older sister has me say, "If you'd like. It's considered polite among my people for a guest to share stories with a host, as long as they're not too boastful or flattering."

"Once you start, more of our sisters might appear," chuckles the nine-tail.

"They won't interrupt," Saki says.

"For the sake of us all, I'll start with one I don't mind repeating," I say, sitting upright just a little more.

The decision made, younger sisters quietly intrigued and politely waiting, I stare deeply into the coals of the hearth. This is so much better before a crackling fire. The sun has started to set behind the mountains, however, deepening the room's shadows, giving me the formless weight of long approaching dusk.

"I'll say few of the gods' names," I begin. "Instead I'll give what their verse titles mean in this tongue. Out of nothing but respect for the gods of my people and homeland, as is the way I was taught by my father, and his father before him."

Gentle, soft, and terse nods flow about the room.

I continue, letting my voice fall into an old rhythm. "Three children were had, between the sly god and a woman of jotunheimr - a frightening realm for mortal men and land of enemies for the gods of my people."

"Why would he have children with a woman of such a place?" Tsubame asks.

"Let him tell the story," Akemi and Miyu snap.

I mostly stop a laugh, Rin hides hers in a sleeve, and Saki's shoulders lift and fall in an unheard sigh. Tsubame feels no shame, though at least she's holding back the sharp briars of her wit this time.

"Tell it I shall," I finish chuckling, mirth settling into the seriousness of the tale to be told. "The sly god, although he is blood brother to the hanged god - the god many of my people regard as chief - the sly god is a child of jotunheimr. Between the realms, some say. What is certain is that he can also travel the realms with great ease, stepping through the air with his magic boots or in the guise of an eagle or even a fly. And even if he is a crafty trickster, he has saved and endangered the realm of mortals many more times than the skalds can tell. But the sly god, he is only the father of who this tale is about."

More about him will come later, I'm sure.

I breathe deep, watching the shadows cast by the dim glow of the hearth. "The child of the sly god I must speak of is the only one the hanged god - or the one-eyed god, as I call him - did not cast out. A terrible wolf, mightier and more ravenous than any seen before. The gods dare not cast such a beast out and instead decided to raise it.

"The gods feared feeding this monster of a wolf, who had the cunning of man and a hunger vast as the sea. It might turn that hunger upon whoever raised it, the gods complained among themselves. Arguing over whose duty it would be to care for the wolf, the god whose rune this is," I lift my pendant, "he alone took it upon himself to raise the wolf."

"And who is this god?" Saki asks.

For Saki and the curious blue eyes next to me, I say the name in my people's tongue, kitsune brows narrowing or rising at the unfamiliar sounds. I doubt they can even twist their tongues around the word.

"His name I will speak once, for he has great power over victory. He is the bravest of all the gods, the most steadfast, and one all looked to in matters of justice and oath taking. Where the others argued, he stepped forth and fed the wolf."

Of all the stares watching me, Rin's blue is the keenest. She already suspects where this story will end.

"The wolf grew by the day, in strength and hunger," I say, letting my voice thrum through the room. "As too did the fear in the hearts of the gods, yet the bravest among them, he whose rune I wear, he never faltered. He alone raised the wolf, and if the wolf had any trust, it was not for his father the sly god, but for the bravest among them. Fosterer of the wolf, they started to call him."

He'd have dived into that freezing river right away, to save that child.

"Years went by, the wolf never turning against them. The seeds of terror in the hearts of the gods had grown, however. The wolf's ravenous maw could reach the sky, threatening all above, and cut far into the earth, where it might devour even the deepest roots of the forest. Some say the one-eyed god, first to master the runes, foresaw the wolf bringing ruin to all the realms - and the one-eyed god's doom. Some say no such fortune was told. No matter the truth, the gods were fearful of the beast, and, convinced it would soon threaten them and the realms, the gods came up with a plan. They made a fetter of their best iron and asked the wolf to show them his strength by breaking free from it. Proud and sure of his might, the wolf allowed the gods who had never approached him before to lay the iron upon him. And with a single kick," my hands clap, Akemi and Miyu both jerking back in startle, "the wolf snapped the fetter and cast it off, pleased with his might."

Scratching dread sinks in my chest. There's something too close that must stay bound.

"So again, the gods crafted a new fetter, twice as strong as the first, and dared the wolf to break it. Glad to play and show off for those that only watched him from afar, the wolf let them bind him once more. And once more, the wolf shattered the bonds of the finest iron, scattering the pieces all across the realm, to the quiet terror of the gods. Save for perhaps the fosterer of the wolf," I tap my pendant, "and the wolf's father the sly god, and the boastful god of thunder."

Ears twitch when I mention the god of thunder, but I don't stop telling my story when so many listening ears are wrapped up in my words.

"The desperate gods went to the realm of the greatest craftsmen," I say, skipping its name in my tongue. "There they had forged a fetter from parts used up entirely, never to be found again in all the realms. The sound of a cat's step, mountains' roots, woman's beard, spittle of birds, the breath of fish, and nervousness of bears. From these, the two smiths forged a fetter no thicker than a silk ribbon, yet so sturdy not even the god of thunder could break it with his jotnar slaying hammer. The gods, pleased, returned to dare the wolf to break this new bond."

I wet my throat with water before continuing, feeling the tension I've built. How long has it been since I told hosts a tale? Let alone one that filled my young heart with admiration, even if my cousins from far away scoffed at it.

"When the gods gathered before the wolf and asked him to break this third fetter, he refused. It was insulting to be asked to break something so thin, but the wolf had grown suspicious. Thrice they wanted to bind him. Twice he'd broken free. What he once thought was playing or a way to prove his might, it could be something else. So the wolf asked them to make an oath. A god would put their hand in his mouth while they sealed him with the fetter, and when he was released so too would he release the hand. An oath, made by one with no hand of his own."

Rin's eyes narrow. She understands too well where this is going.

"The gods took counsel, trying to figure out who would be the one to risk such a thing. And while they could make no choice, the bravest of them, the fosterer of the wolf, stepped forth and offered his sword hand to the jaws he had watched grow day by day. Trust, it would seem, between the fosterer and wolf. So the wolf allowed the gods to wrap their dainty fetter, tying him up. A simple task, shattering such a thin band, the wolf must have thought."

"The fetter," I speak its name, "it was called, did not break. It did not even creak, no matter how the wolf struggled or thrashed. When the beast gave up, expecting the gods to free it as they had promised, the wolf and the bravest god looked to the others."

Every kitsune waits for me to finish the story, tails anxious as I drink more warmed water.

"Wolf and his fosterer, they heard the gods laugh. Sorrow and rage befell the wolf, and the bravest of the gods did not take his hand out of the wolf's mouth when it slackened. Did he not swear an oath, after all? So while the gods had their merriment and success, the wolf bit off the hand in his mouth, swearing vengeance upon those that tricked him, and giving the god I follow the name I call him - the one-handed god. As for the wolf, the gods bound him to a slab of stone and buried him beneath a river's wetland, where the hungering beast awaits its revenge – and took its names." I repeat them, giving no translation. They mostly mean monster underneath a river anyway.

"A sad story," Miyu says, Mariko nodding with her sister.

"What happened to," Akemi nearly ties her tongue up trying to say the one-handed god's name, "afterward?"

"In the stories among my kin, he was without a hand but the same. The one-handed god relearned the sword with his shield arm, and tied his shield to his sword arm."

"And elsewhere?" Tsubame asks.

"They prefer the hanged god or god of thunder," I answer, "if they even know the gods of my people."

Rin's gaze tilts curiously toward me from the side. "No one prefers this sly god or his children?"

"None that I've met," I say, shaking my head. "Another time I'll tell the stories of the sly god's other two children with the woman of jotunheimr."

"I'll look forward to that," Rin smiles, with Saki humming next to me.

"If I were a skald, it would've been a much more interesting telling."

"I enjoyed it," Rin says.

"As did I," Akemi mutters, seeming anxious about speaking so soon after her eldest sister – but receiving not so much as a look. The three-tail dips her head, Tsubame saying, "Hearing about far away places is interesting."

"Agreed," Miyu adds, an uttering of thanks overtaking the kitsune, tails lively and ears turned upon me.

"Egil," Rin says to me, voice quieting her younger sisters, "will you join us for more meals and share your stories after?"

"Gladly." I dip my head, doing my best to give a modest bow. "I'm sorry for being such a silent guest this winter. Wisdom warns a man to not bore his hosts with too much boasting and talk, but I've gone too far and made myself a stranger."

Rin and Saki remain as unmoved and affectionate as before. The kitsune across the hearth are taken aback, since the apology was mostly aimed at them. Even sharp tongued Tsubame looks as if she bit into the stone of a fruit.

Akemi starts to speak, but Rin is faster.

"Half that time you've been recovering from wounds earned helping," she says. "If anything, it's made our little sisters more curious, hasn't it Saki?"

"Yes. Though I understand why." The eight-tail cradles my hand in hers.

There's no need for me to see how their sisters take that, a flurry of agreements coming from three voices saying enough. Akemi, Miyu, and Tsubame seem back to their usual selves, and I can't tell if Mariko ever really changed.

I look between Rin and Saki, restless in a good way after sitting for so long. A brash departure to match our entrance seems appropriate.

With a small argument trying to form between their little sisters, I turn and whisper to Rin, knowing it'll be overheard, "Shall we go somewhere private? There's something I promised to do this evening with you two."

White cheeks tinge pink, Rin's thoughts obvious as Saki's interest leaning in.

I can't let the head of their family blush completely, even with her sisters distracted, so I add, "I've yet to cast my runes as I promised. That I'd like to do in private."

Rin's not red in the face yet. "That can be done. It wouldn't do for your voice to be tested by the dozens of questions you'll be asked once they see that."

"I'll lead," Saki says in my ear, quiet as a snowflake.

The eight-tail standing up finally cuts through the muttering argument among the three lively kitsune. The questions they hesitate to ask, glares flicking between Tsubame and Miyu, are answered before they can even speak them.

Rin, standing up with me, says to her sisters, "Please bring us a late evening meal to my rooms. If we're not there, leave it on the trays for us."

"As you say," Miyu bows, Akemi a little slower.

"Shall we bring wine?" Tsubame asks.

Rin looks at Saki, collecting the bundle she brought earlier. "Not tonight," Rin waves before taking my arm in hers.

"We'll be plenty entertained," I say, patting her elbow and making her inner ears flush.

Somehow she hides it by turning and guiding me towards the door, but not without wide-eyed stares flicking between Akemi and Mariko.

The three of us barely leave the room when Saki whispers right beside me, "I like this brashness."

"My heart may not withstand it," Rin says, breathing a laugh when the door-wall clacks shut behind us.

Despite her words, she holds onto me just a little tighter. Whether that's because of the knowing tilt at the very edges of Saki's mouth, or how I welcome them both next to me, doesn't matter. We'll find a way to end this night satisfied and at ease, I'm sure of that.