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The pace Rin sets through the halls is too quick for conversation. Not that I can bear to say anything yet. We're both too worried about the unwelcome visitors and tense from the spell that attacked her home. More so, I fear what could've happened to Saki on her way down the path. Kenshin can't be the only monk that mistrusts the kitsune and would act once certain of the truth, no matter how misguided.

I know that rushing off to find Saki would be of little help. She can move silent and unseen where I cannot. For now I must believe she's avoiding any monks.

It's a struggle to cling to such a hope with each step taken.

Rin leads me back to her rooms, a wave of her many layered sleeve opening the door-wall. Passing through the first room with its filled shelves, we stop in the second room where we slept last night. Where pleasant times started to be shared before this troublesome day was thrust upon us.

The nine-tail leaves it to me to shut the door-wall. I have to turn around since I have no magical trick that makes the building obey. Once I face Rin again, she's hunched over with her sleeves folded before her. My worry dulled thoughts realize, slowly, that it's an apologetic bow.

"There's so much we must speak about," she says, head low enough I cannot see her eyes at all, "but I first must beg of you a favor."

I don't know what to say, so my legs move on their own. I must be too quick, as she lets out a squeaking yip of surprise. Rin's arms instinctively loop behind my neck as I haul her up into my arms. Carrying the kitsune, and her heavy dress, is easy when it's only to the bedding. I somehow manage to sit down instead of collapsing with her on top of me, all the while silently lamenting this land's lack of chairs and proper beds. But I'm strong enough to make do.

The startled silent kitsune remains in my lap, still holding onto the back of my neck while her polite composure is utterly ruined. That surprised intrigue and hesitation makes her all the more lovely to look at. On a quieter day I'd be peeling her out of that dress one layer at a time, but those desires choke on worry.

"What is this for?" Rin asks, still not moving from where I put her on my lap.

"Keeping my word," I say.

Her brows furrow, remembering what I'd said before the monk's attack. "I never uttered an apology."

I stroke her back, feeling her settle in and my own knotted up shoulders loosening. "That bow certainly looked like one to me."

"Kitsune are supposed to be devious in all the tales," Rin sighs. "I must be here to prove them wrong."

"You didn't want to ask me in the halls, where I might run off and help without a second thought."

"The situation is delicate," she says, neither admitting nor accepting my suspicion. "And you assume too much wisdom from me, Egil. If I were not in this accursed dress from the capital we would be gathering supplies before going off together instead of stopping to find good sense."

"That doesn't-"

"Seem wise," she interrupts with a knowing smile, "for the master of the mountain to put herself in such risk?"

"Not when there might be a need to run, and dresses of any sort are ill made for that," I say, picking at the edge of the many different colored layers. "We don't know where the other monks are, or if there are more of those grudge born spells."

"Nor if the rest are as ill mannered as Kenshin," Rin says, settling into my lap and clasping her hands behind my back. "Then perhaps we can find a plan together instead of running head long into what could be a trap."

"A trap made for kitsune," I point out, not wanting to say aloud that she's all that's keeping me from a rash decision or three.

"Which is why I must beg of you that favor."

"Don't," I stop her, making her brows rise. "You have my arm, Rin. Keep favor out of it and tell me what you need."

Conflicted love, concern, and noble pride swirl behind glacial blue. I'm ready for her to argue when, suddenly, her shoulders slacken. Gone is the master of the mountain, leaving behind only the woman I've fallen for: desperate and burdened in ways she can't let others see yet bearing a gentleness that a weary man wants to hold close.

"Then I'll save arguing about favor until Saki is here," Rin breathes out. "Tell me, Egil, could you trick the monks if you must?"

"If I fail, my strides are long and swift."

That I'm serious only swirls those emotions in her once more. She relents with one of her soundless sighs.

"Then," Rin starts to lean in, only to catch herself before our noses can touch, "when we're done here, would you bring some supplies and messages to those in the village below and see what is going on?"

I nod, getting a hunch about what she's truly planning.

Rin wants to do more than speak, but she puts it aside after a few of our breaths mingle. Even so, longing and unease battle in her eyes.

"I expect Saki will find you, that you'll both return tonight and I will have worried for nothing. Yet..."

"It's not a worry, but thoughts we share. Your home was attacked."

"The monk's insult I'll not overlook," Rin utters. "Akemi will only feel dazed until tonight, and that spell would weaken the more kitsune it suppressed or bound, so we were in little danger with you helping. If there are more, however-"

I interrupt her gloomy words, "Maybe I should have rushed down the mountain."

"No," she insists. "No, a moment to clear our heads and harden our hearts was the right choice. My sisters need me here, and you might learn what the monks truly want if you go down alone.

"You don't sound convinced."

"All I am convinced of is that I needed your boldness," she says, eyes closing a moment.

Her blues open sooner than I can speak.

"Before I lose myself to one pull of the heart or another, Egil," Rin says, reluctance in each word, "would you go to the kitchens and tell whoever is there to prepare supplies for you to bring to the visitors waiting down the mountain? And some tonjiki for your trip."

That's the shaped rice filled with pickled sour plums that Saki likes. I almost smile at the obviousness of Rin's plan. "If the halls and turns haven't changed, I will. Once I'm certain you're truly alright after that spell."

"I fare no worse than you," the nine-tail says close to my mouth. "The pitiful monk's spell never had the strength to suppress me, but it might have slipped away had your stone not frightened it."

"Don't expect me to remember much about that stone," I say, head cloudy but not forgetful of the faerie stone. "I do not know if it was a gift or curse."

"Forgetfulness can be either," she murmurs, gaze downcast for a few heartbeats. "Please tell me before bringing forth another of those sneaky stones in my home."

"I will."

"If it's to save another," she rests her nose back against mine, "or yourself, then use any of them. So long as you tell me one night all that you can remember."

"If we have time, I'll do it now and let you search through the few trinkets I have left. Even I'm not certain about what they do."

"What else is there in that bag?" she asks.

"Most of the silver I didn't gift the master of this mountain," I tell her, "and a stone given to me by..." I heard the word for what the being of fire was, but it won't come to my mind nor tongue. Part of the faerie stones' burden, no doubt. "... by a being of fire feared by good men I hunted with. It was given in gratitude, as if its warm pebble might help me, while the faerie stones were a gift I couldn't refuse. Or maybe those river stones were a reward."

"Fire does not worry me. The ancient magic upon the river stones, they hid what you speak of from me and you. Yet now that I know, I doubt you will forget them again."

"I hope you're right."

"With what I felt while restraining that spell, those stones want to be forgotten. Which terrified such an old, tangled grudge afraid it would lose the last binding to this world it had. And could, I fear, disrupt the barriers I have built."

"So don't use them anywhere on the mountain path."

"I would appreciate it if you didn't," Rin agrees, trying to soften her words by sounding slightly playful. A regret tinges her eyes a moment later. "But we have little time to talk, nor does it seem we will find more soon," she mutters. "Once our visitors are gone and Saki is in your arms as well, perhaps you can tell us the stories of these stones, and we can figure it out together?"

I nearly mention the oni and how all the visitors won't leave without its head but think better of it. We hardly have plans now and instead cling to hopes. "Gladly. That and more stories I'll share with you two, in dreams or awake."

What I'd hope would please, or maybe tease, the kitsune only makes her gaze waver between sullen and concerned. "Around the monks, do not speak of us being in your dreams."

"I am not a boastful man, much to my ancestors' disappointment," I tell her.

She manages a weak smile and laughs. It's far from insincere, Rin merely cannot let go of her worries. "I struggle to imagine you being boastful."

"When I return, you can tell me what you do imagine me to be," I say, wanting to stroke a hand through her hair.

Especially when her smile answers me with an unspoken promise.

That I can feel such a distraction and resist it means I shouldn't be making any rash and foolish decisions now. Like storming away alone on a hunt to kill a man-eater.

It's me who sighs this time. "Shall I be off?"

"Yes," Rin reluctantly says, sliding off of me and onto her knees. "We should go before I ask what you would do after another apology from me."

If she and Saki have been in my dreams together, has the eight-tail been trying to convince her pure and inexperienced sister to...?

A thought for another time, I tell myself. I'm almost glad I can feel so distracted, but it's starting to get in the way of what must be done.

"Before I go, I'll ask my runes about the visitors below," I say, reaching for the pouch.

"Don't," Rin insists, hand on my shoulder and tail pressing against my wrist. "Not yet. That monk's treachery and your strange stone unsettled protections Shizuka will be mending all day. Whatever powers your runes draw upon I do not want in my home until the protections are returned."

"The runes should only touch the truth," I say.

"Of your homeland, perhaps. Nothing has ever slipped in following the scent of your readings," she dips her head, not quite in apology, "but I would take no more risks at this moment."

"On my way down, then? Or would it risk the barrier on the path?"

"It shouldn't, but I fear it might put you off guard when you must keep clear eyes."

I kiss the side of her cheek. "I'll wait for you and Saki, then."

Rin is too easy to fluster, but she keeps her composure this time.

"It should be safe with either of us," she says through a weak smile that wants more time together. Then she forces out the words neither of us want. "I will meet you at the gate once I've written the messages you'll be bringing."

---

With a muddled head, made worse by being alone in the halls, I make it to the kitchens. The tenderness I felt with Rin has at least given way to purpose, even while my heart is unsettled.

The room that meals have been shared in is empty, while the door-wall farther down is open and the steamy smell of cooking drifts about. Not four steps in and I hear someone move deeper in the kitchens.

"Back already?" a gentle voice calls out.

Knowing that I'm being mistaken for a kitsune, and suspecting I know who it is, I speak up carefully. "Rin sent me on a task."

Mercifully there's no crash of pots, only a clatter and thump as if someone stumbled. A moment later, two ears peek around the corner, soon accompanied by eyes widening at the sight of me. Mariko, the meek three-tail that's seemed to have a girlish fascination with me, steps fully into the doorway and bows in greeting. I politely ignore the unease in her twitching tails and try to appear harmless, not sure if the younger kitsune has heard of what happened.

I'm also unsure of my place in this home now that they all know I'm Saki's and Rin's lover, but that's unimportant for now.

"Can I be of any help?" Mariko asks, barely able to straighten up from the bow and unable to look up from the floor.

I tell her what Rin said word for word.

There's a moment where Mariko doesn't move, even her tails halting. Then she bows more deeply than before. "I will prepare everything. Is there anything you," her voice grows quieter with each word, "would like for this trip?"

Thankfully Mariko's not at such a whisper I couldn't hear all of that.

Since I might be spending the night in the village or forest, I nod. "Whatever you would recommend against this cold."

Mariko mumbles something I cannot hear, bows even lower, then backs out of sight without turning around.

With how unsettled I'm making the three-tail, I decide to leave and say to the now empty doorway, "We'll be at the gate."

No sooner are the words out of my mouth, wood slides open. I snap around, fingers going near a dagger until I spot golden locks. Seven tailed Shizuka stands at the entrance. She's the opposite of Mariko, unbothered by my presence and composed in perfect poise as she steps into the room. It's as if she hadn't just helped defend against the spell the monk let loose, her calm deep and impenetrable as her gaze.

"Going already?" Shizuka asks, a tail clacking shut the door-wall behind her.

Of all the kitsune in this home, I understand her the least. From Shizuka's well meaning plotting that saw my wine drugged, her shameless offering of herself and Miki in the baths, and the way she's watched me this winter - she's as mysterious to me as where the sun disappears to in the west.

"I was only here to deliver a message," I tell the seven-tail, wary of any hidden intentions. Thankfully I have a good way out. "I have to meet Rin, then I'm off to find Saki."

"Ah," Shizuka nods, more than relief softening her eyes. "Will eldest sister be going with you?"

"I'm sure she'll follow after me when she can."

Shizuka takes a half step too close, hardly pretending this is a respectful distance. "Is eldest sister," she whispers, "alright? Does she seem any different to your clear eyes?"

My clear eyes? Suspicious of the seven-tail's nearness, and after hearing something similar from Rin earlier, I keep my voice low. "She's as worried as I am."

"Has she seemed tired?"

"No."

"Then perhaps I worry for nothing," Shizuka smiles, remaining uncomfortably close. "I should know such a spell would mean little to her."

I could make a polite escape, but if she's wanting to talk to me I might learn something. "Was the spell that dangerous?"

"Had eldest sister and you not been there? It would have bound several of my sisters before I could hope to halt its spread."

"What of Akemi?" I ask before Shizuka can get any ideas about why I'm still speaking with her.

"My unfortunate little sister fares much better." Shizuka's expression changes, deepening as if she finally understands something. And is quite happy to be right. "To my relief, Akemi's fatigue from the spell's touch was cured with an invigorating concoction."

That's a relief I cannot fully speak. "I'm glad there are no new wounds."

"Thanks to your swiftness," she says, dipping her head without fully bowing. And slyly moving just a little closer. "Along with the help of what you've been hiding in your bags."

"Old gifts I was burdened to forget about." I look past the kitsune, towards memories that cannot be seen. "And I might forget again until they're used up, but Rin knows what to ask me if I do forget."

Shizuka's tails swirl behind her as if to catch my gaze and lure it back to her unchanging expression. "I had not meant to unsettle you, Egil, but merely share my gratitude." This time she bows, ears nearly touching me. Then, quieter than a whisper, she says, "I'm sorry for keeping you, but if I might speak beyond my place...?"

What is her place in this family, and what is mine aside from as a guest? I don't know her well enough to tell if she's sincere or cunning right now, but I can spare a few more moments to learn instead of avoiding Shizuka. After all, I can't leave this mountain until the supplies are ready.

"Speaking plainly has been wise, lately," I tell her, taking a slight step back.

Shizuka's shoulders freeze, for maybe a breath, before she settles into a more friendly and less insisting posture.

"An honored guest deserves more courtesy than that," she says, golden locks shifting with her lowering head. "I do not want to unsettle you more than I already have."

I keep silent. Sometimes a man doesn't need to speak to say what he means.

"If it would please you, however," Shizuka utters, "I will try to speak plainly, as you say."

Remaining quiet, and perhaps openly suspicious of her, I nod.

Seemingly no different than when she entered the room, Shizuka says, "Once all is well and we know where everyone is, Rin needs to rest. She would listen if you suggested such."

"I'll keep that in mind," I say. "But rest is as far from my thoughts as hers, now."

"Which is why someone must look after such focused hearts," Shizuka smiles as she passes by. "I will help with Mariko's tasks, but it will take time to gather the supplies eldest sister must have asked for."

My shoulders relax once Shizuka goes farther into the kitchens. Even if her request seemed well intentioned, at a glance, I can't be certain she's given up on me.

Thoughts of a wounded Miki creep up on me as I stand there, along with memories of the two-tail's guidance from her golden haired sister. Yet another path I chose not to follow, but I have no regret. There's an eight-tail I need to see is safe, and once she is, the matter of their lost sister Meiko has gone on long enough. If I can get Meiko back to Saki so they might see the spring's first blossoming together, then I'll sacrifice of myself whatever I must. Hand, eye, or more. Then, and only then, can I think of rest.

I head back into the halls, heel of a hand upon my sword's pommel to keep it from bouncing against my leg while I walk. The floors creak but once I retrieve my boots and step out into the cold my steps turn quiet against arranged stone outside.

---

Around the home I walk, hardening my heart.

I want to linger near Saki's training hall as I pass it, but don't. The path to the garden tempts me as well, even when it's far behind. This home already has many pleasant memories to go along with the bitter. Will I make more here? Will it become yet another heavy regret if I must leave? I shake those thoughts off like snow from my shoulders and keep walking, nearing a dark place for my heart.

The lone torii before a narrow crack in the cliff's stone.

Beyond the arch, somewhere up the hidden path, lies a prisoner I despise. Not only for choosing to become a man-eater or the harm he's brought this family that took me in. Taro's strength as a half-kappa and tenacious will could've found him a place of honor had he but used it for purposes beyond envy, and whatever else haunted his heart.

Sun warms my shoulders as I move on from the lone torii, cold mist billowing out from deep within my chest.

We've all started down paths we can't turn back on now.

I check my weapons, half drawing each. Then the pouch of silver I hastily tied back to my belt, the river stones within hurting my head to think about unlike the desert pebble with them, and finally the meager tools I've kept for traveling. The means to start fire, a few pinches of salt, and small things I can trade. Along with the thin silk rope given to me. I make sure that rope is well out of sight before continuing on.

A light wind rustles trees distant and near, whispering over roof tiles and through my hair. Not a shadow moves out of place. I know I'm alone. A lonely feeling upon this mountain. One I need, even if I cannot welcome it.

The solitude lasts until I reach the gate, where two kitsune stand. Hotaru stands ready in her battle garb, her ears perked up towards the shut doors. Facing her is Rin, in a single layered and simple dress of silk, with her white hair loose over the back of her shoulders.

The nine-tail turns, no doubt hearing me.

Rin, holding a tightly woven basket, greets me with a subdued smile and forward tilt just shy of a bow. I try to return some of that warmth that's so pleased to see me, regardless of the cold mood I worked myself into.

"Egil," Rin says. "Our thin excuses for plans changed once more."

"Will you be accompanying me?" I ask, wondering how long I took walking around the house for her to change clothes and let her hair down.

The sun hasn't moved that much. Rin must've gotten help.

"No, you will be going alone," the nine-tail says, setting the basket down. "At first. We're going to question the half-kappa, then I and at least two of my sisters will follow you down. Tonight or first thing in the morning."

"I'll try to stay near the path or leave signs so you can find me."

"Burn this if you need help," Rin brings a tail around and pulls a folded paper charm from it. "Day or night, we'll know and come swift as we can."

I start to take it, only for her to reach forward and fuss with my clothes. She hooks the charm onto the cord of my pendant, fingers lingering on my chest for a moment.

"Do what you need to if there's trouble," she says, not sounding too hopeful about me being able to avoid it.

We share that feeling, then. "Should it come to blows, what about the monks?"

"What of them?" Rin asks indifferently, wanting to know my thoughts instead of guessing.

"Will it trouble your family if I have to harm or even kill some of them?"

"They'll make their choices," she says, walking around me and holding up that basket, revealing straps to loop over my shoulders, "and your choices will be mine."

That's a heavier trust than the basket she gets settled onto my back. There's nothing to be said about such a thing, so I meet her gaze and nod once the basket is in place. She seems to understand. We both want to do more, to say more, but she must maintain appearances as head of the family and as the pillar of strength for all her sisters. And I cannot soften.

"And the messages I'm to bring?" I ask.

Rin moves in front of me and produces a small, folded letter from her sleeve. "For the sarugami, if you meet them."

She adjusts my clothes and slips one in at my chest, her touch lingering longer than it needs to. Tugging and adjusting not only clothes but the basket on my back, she somehow makes the weight lesser.

"And for the monks," Rin says, taking my arm and slipping another letter into my sleeve. "Give it to them first, if you can. It's nothing but polite excuses about how a few of my sisters are ill and I do not wish for visitors to catch their colds, since you, a foreigner, are the only other to have had it. If we're fortunate, they'll understand that's why Kenshin and Taiki aren't returning with you. If not, well they cannot expect a guest offering to be a messenger to know all my affairs."

"That will have to do," I nod, only now discovering the stitching in my sleeves is such that the letter is safely tucked away. "But if illness is here, why can I go safely?"

"You recovered in only a day," Rin says, holding my hand and warming chilled fingers with her fur. "My letters also say there will be others who come down tomorrow with more supplies. They will answer anything you cannot."

"What about the trouble such a deception will bring you?"

"The monks' temple," Rin says slowly, "doesn't yet know how few friends they have. Any further aggression and they'll learn they've been alone for forty years."

Rin had mentioned she has family in the capital. After all these years it wouldn't be difficult for them to subtly twist and take over alliances. Once more, I'm glad to be the friend of kitsune instead of their enemy.

I nod, quietly wondering if Rin could turn that tengu against the monks as well, and ask, "What am I bringing?"

"Polished rice and millet, along with pickled and dried vegetables for the visitors." Disdain politely turns her nose down. "The monks will refuse any meat or fish. Or so they claim."

The heft of the basket is easier to understand now. Mariko and Shizuka must have packed it tightly since I still can't tell what anything within is. I start to ask about the tonjiki when Rin ties onto my belt a pouch and water gourd, well practiced hands keeping the new burden away from my weapons.

"In case you need to throw the supplies at an aggressive monk," Rin whispers, but not quiet enough for Hotaru nearby to keep an amused grin off her face.

The nine-tail, however, meant what she said. Knowing I can abandon the supplies changes how I consider the weight as well, but there's no need to adjust anything. Rin settled it on my shoulders perfectly for slipping it off my shield arm and swinging if I have need.

"Anything else?" I ask, taking hold of her warm fingers again.

It won't dull my nerves to do this much.

She squeezes my fingers, fingerpads soft instead of calloused. "Only that you come back safe."

I almost lean in to kiss her and make a promise, but keep myself from moving. The sun won't last all day. Once I'm back with the eight-tail, then the three of us can find time to settle our hearts.

Or so I think, until Hotaru turns her back to us.

Leaning forward, as if waiting for that, Rin gently touches her lips and nose to my forehead. Then her mouth moves beside my ear as she embraces me, and I give up. I hug her back, tightly. As if I might not see her again.

"Be swift and certain," she whispers, this time low enough for only me to hear. "By the silver on your neck or your dreams, I'll find you. So do what you must to see that Saki is safe."

I cling to that hope and don't let myself feel much else that isn't her.

But we can't let the moment drag on. Going against all my restraint, I settle a kiss on her cheek before she pulls back. Faint red lingers under the white of fur upon her easy to fluster cheeks.

She's given a man like me more than I could ever deserve. Yet I have a task, she has her responsibilities, and we must know where Saki is.

"Remember," Rin says, "do not look behind you in the oni's domain."

Grateful for her concern, even if I'd never forget my first time walking up the mountain, I give her a slight bow instead of trusting my tongue.

After a last touch of her tails, I start toward the gate. Saying goodbye or that I'll be back, I can do neither after our embrace. She knows I'll return so long as I still draw breath. And I cannot worry her any further.

Hotaru opens the gate for me, and I pass through.

Without looking back I listen to the gates slowly shut, my feet carrying me to the first of many torii.

Once I pass under the red arch, I might as well be leaving for another realm as I start to walk down the stone carved steps.

The next threshold passes by, letting me leave behind the polite manners and considerations for my hosts. Through the third, my palm steadying my sword, I turn my thoughts to the forest around me and how far I might be from the man-eater's cage of gnarled trees and magic.

---

My only companions are my breath and the distant chirping of birds singing of spring's approach.

What might be, what could have happened, and how slow I move are the thoughts snapping at my heels. Yet I cannot hurry. I'll need every scrap of strength, so I must keep my hand off my sword so as not to chill my fingers. It jostles against my leg, reminding me to keep a steady pace whenever my will starts to slip and stride quickens.

The shadows double in length once I reach the first of many gnarled and twisted trees. More and more loom over and around me as I walk the uneven turns of the mountain path, the branches stretching above like fingers long ago broken into place.

As the birds did on the start of my trip, I begin to sing of warmer nights and longer days. It's a deep and rough sound that keeps me from turning to the rustling branches. The song is from my father, one of the few pleasant things he ever taught me, and useful as all the rest. For the rustling of branches and rotting leaves follows behind me. That I carry the sword I stole from my father and use his words to ignore the presence creeping closer, it must anger my ancestors in their halls.

The patience demanded of a hunt pulls at my sinew.

A maddened laugh echoes through the forest behind me, weaving from one side to the next with each breath. I keep my hand off my sword and keep singing, as if I heard nothing.

"What is this?" whispers a fox against the back of my ear. "Have you been cast out?"

Every hair on my neck stands straight, but I ignore Meiko and keep walking. My voice scarcely falters as I sing of a peaceful god.

An uneven giggle bounces around behind me, growing fainter with each step I take.

Yet I know the mad kitsune stalks me instead of slinking away.

She's silent as her twin, not even the scent of her breath reaching me, but I know Meiko is only a few steps behind me. A foolish urge twitches a few fingers, insisting I close my eyes and whip around to grab her, or instead feign stumbling, so I can set this pack down and snatch the lost kitsune once she's closer. One quick motion is all I'd need to end a heartache that's gone on longer than most men live.

Instead of giving into the call from my sinew, I let my hand curl into a fist within my sleeve.

One glance back is all it would take for Meiko to overwhelm me with a spell, leaving her to drag me off to the oni before I know it. And even if I grabbed her, Kenta has her hoshinotama. How much control the oni has over the kitsune I don't know, nor should I until Meiko is rescued in case I fall to any traps. The hoshinotama has part of her essence within, that is enough for me to be certain that the man-eater might as well have his hand around her throat at all times.

I welcome the rage simmering inside me. Each breath of cold tempers it. Every step I take while stalked, by the very quarry I mean to rescue before next winter, drags me farther from the soft comforts I'd gotten used to.

Branches shudder against the wind. A patch of ice long kept in shade crunches under someone's foot.

I eye the forest without moving my neck, but it was just out of sight. Unless I take a few steps back or turn my head.

I carry on with my travel song, and soon only hum its rhythm. Something large rustles after me, out in that sickened forest. A trick from Meiko? One of the oni's allies, perhaps a fallen sarugami, trying to earn the man-eater's favor? Or would it be Kenta himself, coming to see why the foreigner is leaving the mountain after a monk ascended?

Only a hundred steps later, rustling chasing me the entire way, I have had enough. My feet halt on a particularly wide step.

Reaching for my belt, not hurrying nor feigning slowness, I undo the gourd and consider what to do. I risk a sip of water, which is warmer than I expected. Mariko, or Shizuka, must have made it steaming hot for my trip.

That small kindness is all the more reason to save their long lost sister.

Sticks break underfoot, only ten strides away on my shield arm side, and my neck prickles as if Meiko looms in my shadow.

"He's hunting," rumbles a deep, growling voice in the forest, "not cast out."

"Alone?" Meiko asks in my opposite ear, offering pity and comfort. "Why have you come alone, you tired wanderer?"

"The evil upon the mountain tricks him," rumbles the voice, a dried out tree's trunk groaning and branches shaking only four or five strides away. "But which evil might it be?"

Upon a dying breeze, the stench of sickly sweet rot reaches me. Beneath the cloying herbs and tinge of cedar on that breath is that foul odor I can never forget.

Man-eater.

I'd reach for steel were it not for the water gourd in my hand. Precisely why I took it. Listening carefully, I tie the gourd back on my belt and rest my fingers on my sword's scabbard. If that man-eater hasn't struck at me yet, then either it cannot or it wants something more than filling its belly. Who the man-eater is doesn't matter to me now, only whether it is bound by the barrier keeping it from touching me on the path so long as I stare ahead.

My heart a pounding drum in my head, I lift a boot and take a step down.

The basket on my back tugs weakly, as if pushed by a faint wind.

Sinew in my hands and arms want to snap, being caught in between patience and rage filled terror. Can what is on the path touch me?

"Stop!" rumbles the man-eater, panic unmistakable in its rough voice. "Meiko, don't hurt yourself anymore."

My stance steady, I halt as well. A dangerous urge to turn around wells in my chest but disappears swiftly as it came while I adjust the basket. I can still listen. Wait and hunt the hunter.

"If he's tricked, he shouldn't go," the kitsune whispers back, as if I'm not there.

"Forget that for now. Show me your hand."

"There's nothing wrong, see?" Meiko insists, cloth rustling.

"Your other hand," the deep voice says, patience well practiced.

"Did I use that one?"

"Yes."

"I did?" Cloth rustles again, innocent curiosity filling Meiko's voice. "Ah, there's a cut! See?"

The man-eater sighs, my nose wrinkling and neck chilled by sweat. "You know I cannot come as far as you."

"But you can see."

A clap stings my palms, the sharp sound ending with utter silence all around. Before either the man-eater behind me can speak again, or I give in to my instincts screaming to draw my sword, I move heavy feet down the path. Whether they're deceiving me or Meiko is madder than I thought, I need to get out of this deadened part of the forest. If that's Kenta with her, instead of another man-eater trying to trick me, then he cannot touch me thanks to Rin's magic.

No victory can be found here, only folly of the unprepared.

"You should not go," shouts Meiko, and far too swiftly I feel her breath against the side of my neck. "Stay, I can bring you-"

"Enough, Meiko," softly chides the man-eater, gentle enough it's either a convincing trick or enraging. "Nothing can convince a man bewitched, and this foreigner," the man-eater sniffs like a beast, "he stinks of fox."

My boots carry on for only a few strides before stopping. A turn looms in the path ahead. A good place to have an ambush hidden, ready to leap out while I'm distracted by the pair behind me. After chasing down Taro on these steps, I know travellers on the path aren't protected from one another. It could easily be Kenta behind me and a trap ahead of me, set up because the oni saw the monks of the temple he once belonged to.

"Don't be angry," Meiko says, in one ear and then in the other, "come. Speak with us. I can bring you a cushion to sit upon, since you will not come to my home."

My teeth grit against her cunning tone that promises rest and peace. Acknowledging Meiko won't be the same as looking at the mad kitsune, but there's still power in it. Power she'd have over me. I cannot risk such a thing until I'm certain it's the oni or something else with her.

Heavy footfalls crunch through the forest, stopping at the very edge of the path and out of my sight. A tree groans as something big leans against the dry trunk, branches rattling like bones upon a string.

"Foreigner," the rumbling voice utters, "what fox bewitched and befuddled you?"

I guess it's only half a step too far.

"No. Maybe the fox master of the mountain wants to trick me again?" the man-eater mutters to itself.

It is half a step out of my sword's reach. With a double step lunge I could loosen my pack, strike a deep wound with my sword, retreat as I throw the pack, and if I'm fast enough toss a dagger at the man-eater's face once I see it.

Utter foolishness, I tell myself while glaring down the path.

I know only the man-eater's voice instead of what it is, and Meiko won't stay still if I strike. Fury should be wielded as a weapon, not fallen upon in haste. My jaw doesn't relax, but it does loosen up for an easier breath through my teeth to spare me smelling more of the sickly sweet rot.

Even so, I don't take another step.

I can't.

The man-eater seems to know that, a rough sound musing in his throat. "The master of the mountain has bewitched you herself, has she? A clever protection, and deeper than she's done before." A disappointed rumble grinds in its throat. "This was a waste, Meiko, my words will be unheard by him. Come back here so I can look at that cut."

Is it trying to trick me as a child might? Or does it speak true?

"Wait," Meiko says, sniffing near my shoulders, "he smells like-"

"That's enough, Meiko," the man-eater rumbles. "He can't hear you."

"But he smells like... Ah! I know this scent! It's-"

The mad kitsune suddenly stops her sniffing. My ears strain for the slightest whisper of cloth or paws on stone.

A womanish gasp, as if striking a toe, comes from behind.

"Ah!" Meiko's surprise sounds real. "When did I get a cut?"

"I don't know," the man-eater lies sympathetically, sorrow in a voice that shouldn't understand such a thing. "Go home and treat it, I'll return soon."

"Yes! Yes, I'll do that. Oh and I'll get wine for our guests," Meiko beams, tails whisking against the basket on my shoulders.

Scarcely a sound, other than my teeth and sinew straining like rigging in a storm, reaches my ears. What did I just hear? Is Meiko's mind shattered, was it a trick, or does this man-eater guide her thoughts as a rider would a horse? Perhaps it even believes Rin has protected me, as if I were a traveler and useful guest instead of her lover.

Half a step too far for my sword.

Yet with a wild lunge I might end that power and curse that's haunted this mountain for almost eighty winters.

What could be a better gift to the kitsune who have been my hosts, and more?

And what would it do to Rin and Saki if I fall into such an obvious trap? How dare I consider such a thing before I know where my eight-tail lover has gone, or if she's even safe.

Uncurling my fingers, joints loosening with aching protest, I rest a palm on my sword's hilt and breathe in deep of the bitter cold. I finally speak. "Do you know why I'm on this mountain?"

Silence drags on a moment. Then the man-eater speaks, trying to sound indifferent to me. "No."

"Chasing rumors brought me here," I say, disgusted that I'm conversing with it instead of killing the man-eater. "But all I seek today is seeing that a friend hasn't been harmed, and to strike out in vengeance should blood have spilled."

"Is this friend," it rumbles, "another monk like you?"

What sort of trickery could it be playing with words, when any man-eater trapped here would have heard of me? No, I should expect this much. Neither of us have spoken before, so we play a dangerous dance of questions. This one is more than a man-eater, it's a cunning beast. I must treat it as a bandit or would be robber that is willing to talk, or is too afraid of me to get close.

"Do I seem a monk?" I ask, tapping the sword on my belt. "Or even of this land with my fair hair and height?"

"When a man comes to this mountain in those robes, as you first did, he must be one of the monks."

A cold laugh billows out of me in wispy fog. The man-eater must want to slow me down, but the more it talks, the better I can know its location. I might even dig out its intent.

"The gods I know welcome fallen warriors into their halls," I say, "not those seeking selfish enlightenment faked as faithfulness. I was given clothes and their hospitality, but never could a man like me understand their lectures, nor follow them. Not with all I have seen."

Throaty chuckling grinds like stones crashing down a cliff behind me.

Stinging prickles crawl over every hair and scar upon me.

"I see," the man-eater utters, its amusement sickening. "They pitied you."

I shrug, facing the path down and wondering when I should start running. This is a cunning man-eater that will listen to its potential prey. Showing weakness will be more dangerous than staying, but I mustn't narrow my choices.

"I expected those arrogant children to come this winter," the man-eater says. "Leaving this mountain will be wise for you, foreigner."

"How is giving up my search for a friend wise?" I demand, not hiding my contempt for the man-eater.

"Dark things come to this mountain. Kappa hunt in the streams and terrible grudges no longer wait. A foreigner should leave instead of falling in nets not meant for him."

"Were you a monk?" I ask.

"Hm?" the man-eater rumbles, not sounding offended at all.

An interesting response, if unsettling. Which one of us will get more out of the other?

"I asked if you were a monk."

"Your words reached me. Such a strange question to ask when you already know."

"Such a question should be asked when first meeting, no matter what I know," I say back.

"Those shriveled elders aren't so blinded if they had you as a guest," the man-eater rumbles. "Why did you ask if I was a monk?"

"A monk said something similar to me about how I should leave this mountain when we met above," I say. "You reminded me of him, nameless voice I speak with."

"The monks are usually wrong. But not always wrong. You should take his words to heart and leave, foreigner."

Seems neither of us wants to give our names, and I know I won't get an answer about whether he was a monk. The avoidance weighs the scales in my mind towards it being Kenta, however. "Do I need to fear you'll stop me from finding my friend if I don't leave?"

"Depends on who your friend is," the man-eater says, menace finally seeping into his voice. "If it's a monk, you should stay off this mountain."

An honest warning from a man-eater? Whether it's Kenta or not, had I hunted it alone, I would've died. I know that down to my marrow.

So how much do I tell it? I cannot waste more than a single breath considering, in the hope it misjudges me as nervously hesitating. Perhaps the man-eater will think I'm nothing but prey trying to find a way out.

"I've been trading techniques with Akaiyari, after I recovered from a broken arm," I say. "I want to see she's safe since these monks have shown themselves to be unfriendly."

"Akaiyari?" the man-eater muses. "Akaiyari..."

Old wood creaks as weight comes off it, and the man-eater's breath is close enough I can feel it as wind that curls my lips into a hateful snarl.

"What is Saki to you?" the man-eater demands, any feigned friendliness gone.

Yet there's no hate or hunger in his voice.

Even if there was, I'd never give him an easy answer. "You know her?"

"Meiko has many sisters," the wretched man-eater breathes near me, "but Saki is the most important to her. And..."

The rotten stench of a man-eater pulls back.

"Saki wouldn't allow the man that smells of her to be bewitched, not even if that man also stinks of her eldest sister." The voice is quieter, as if it has moved back without crunching any leaves or forgotten patches of ice underfoot. "I offer you a gift, foreigner, if you will do but one simple task."

Never before have I been more grateful to those faeries as I have been today, both for their burdensome gifted stones and for forcing me to hone my tongue. One of those is of use now. "I cannot answer without hearing what this task would be."

"The food in your pouch," it answers. "Leave some by your feet, or at one of the ruined shrines."

I'm not getting near those shrines, but he doesn't need to know that. Offerings have power, and no matter the land you cannot control the attention it might bring.

"I don't believe tonjiki would fill your stomach."

A gruff laugh reaches my ears, coming from ten or more strides into the forest. "It's not for me. Meiko hasn't had her sister's cooking in too long."

Because of you, I want to roar and turn upon him. I'm now sure, deep in my gut, that it's Kenta behind me. Even though that makes me want to run into the forest and kill him, the certainty holds me back all the same.

"That is not worth a gift."

"You'll want it."

Never would I take a man-eater's gift and place myself in its debt. "How can you be so certain? What is it?"

"I cannot name the gift until I know I'll get Meiko one of those tonjiki."

My face twitches. Partly with hate and disgust, but also from the absurdity of its weak bargaining. Could I perhaps trick it? The most foolish gamble comes to my mind, and since I'm as likely to run as I am to stay and listen to anything else, I might as well speak it.

"I'll make a trade with you," I say, voice flat to my ears. "Let me cast your fortune, and I'll give you the entire pouch."

"A fortune teller?" the man-eater utters, its raw surprise hard to fake. "That is new upon this mountain. But a single pouch of tonjiki isn't enough for my fate."

"Then what if," I say, having it blundering towards a snare already, "I arrange for Meiko to be brought meals?"

"She is not starving. Her sisters already leave her supplies every new moon, and on special occasions Saki will sneak in mochi or tonjiki."

I thought he'd deny it forcibly or accuse me of planning trickery. Either Kenta - and it must be the oni - is dangerously calm or I have his weakness. I give each possibility the same chance of being right.

"Proper meals," I say, "the same as she used to eat with them. You have my word they won't be tampered with."

"Your word is worthless wind to me," the man-eater says, closer this time.

One of us has the other. I'll know who sooner than him.

"A thrice spoken oath between men, sworn on the names of our fathers or gods, isn't to be broken." I tap my sword. "Since I stole this out from my father, I'll swear it to the one-handed god, whose symbol I've worn upon my neck in place of the hammer of the thunder god every other man wears."

"What oath would you swear," the man-eater asks slowly, "and what oath would you ask of me?"

"Swear that next we meet you will let me cast your fortune in peace," I say, on the edge of a trap about to spring, "and I will swear to have meals made by her sisters brought to Meiko."

"If you can swear they won't poison the food or weave trickery into it," the man-eater growls, near the tree he had leaned on only half a step away, "I might make such a vow."

I speak the one-handed god's name, swearing exactly what the man-eater wants to hear from me. Only it's in the language of my homeland for the first three times, then I switch it to a tongue the man-eater can understand. "I shall have food brought for Meiko, untampered and same as her sisters eat, if the one I speak with agrees that next we meet there will be peace as I read his fortune."

"What was that?" it demands, a huge branch snapping under its hand. "What did you do?"

"The oath was first spoken to the one-handed god in the tongue he knows," I explain, "then made again in your tongue."

"How can I trust you?" it rumbles.

"The choice is no longer mine," I say, opening the food pouch on my belt and pulling out a warm, wrapped leaf. Bamboo, I think the leaf is from, but I don't know how the kitsune kept it fresh into winter. I set it on the stone path by my foot, then stand back up. "Perhaps I want to believe Saki will be happy to hear Meiko could get meals from her sisters again, no matter the foolish oath I swore."

If I've misjudged the man-eater or fallen for its tricks, then I'll be running at the slightest sound behind me that isn't its voice.

Anger sighs out, the foul sweetened rot drifting past me.

"So be it, fortune teller that stinks of two foxes. I swear upon Shichiro, my father, that next we meet you may sit in peace and read my fortune, so long as Meiko's sisters bring her food no different than what they eat."

I can scarcely believe my ears. Does it actually care for Meiko in some twisted manner?

"Speak it thrice," I utter, "and we'll be bound to our word."

He repeats twice more, tightening a rope around our fates without knowing it.

"That oath is a fetter upon us, to be kept until our word is fulfilled," I declare. "Whosoever breaks it shall shatter a part of himself."

"Do you believe that?" the man-eater rumbles.

A truth, no matter how foul, about myself would show the trust it wants. "Since I fled my kin and the war they pledged to, I have lived by my oaths. Kept them with my blood and steel."

"No exchange of cups or blood for this oath?"

"A man's word should be his life, when sworn upon family or his gods."

The man-eater hums to itself.

How much power an oath between me and the man-eater will have I don't know, but it should weaken him in some way if he tries to strike at me next time we meet. The fool actually agreed to let me sit peacefully before him, after all. A boon even if I'm bound as well. After he hears the fortune of runes I cast before him, new paths will open up. Rin will call me foolish or surprising for this, that I'm certain of, and little else. Better to be a fool than led about by thoughtless fury.

"I'll be back this way once I've found my friend, though your fortune must wait for my oath to be upheld," I say, starting to walk down the stone steps – my thundering heart hammering in my head to demand a fight instead.

"Wait," Kenta calls out before I can take four steps.

"Why?"

"If you're going to uphold your oath," he says, a scowl in his voice, "you will need my gift."

"The food was a gift for Meiko, not part of my oath. You need not give me anything," I reply, hand near my daggers.

"If you're going to find your friend, you'll need my gift," the man-eater says, breath billowing close enough my skin crawls and scars itch. "The monks met Saki at the boundary. They did something. Powerful magic, the sort they would call evil if another tried it. Meiko ran off in a panic before I could stop her, but there was no one there when we reached the edge of this cage of a forest."

Through will alone, I keep my jaw open enough to speak. "Those words are your gift?"

"Part of it," the man-eater says, crossing to the other side of the path behind me. "I left the rest two steps behind you."

Have I ever asked Rin if walking backwards on this path was safe? I don't remember, and curse those faerie gifted stones for making me doubt my memory. With little choice I flip a dagger out, snatching it by the blade for throwing.

A grating noise from the man-eater turns into a mirthless laugh a few steps away. "Do you mistrust me?"

"A traveler trusts no stranger," I tell him, shuffling my feet back.

One step up, and nothing attacks me.

With two steps my boot bumps against wood.

I need half a step more, but I finally bend and pick up what the man-eater left on the stone steps.

Smooth, painted white and red, I know this wooden thing. Thunder crashes through my heart, leaving cold silence smoldering as I stand up and hold the mask to the light. Loose cords dangle, still tied up, and a few strands of fur stick to them. It smells richly of Saki and faintly of the oil she uses on her weapons, but when I bring it closer, there's no hint of blood by smell or sight.

Enraged, I nearly twist around and throw the dagger.

But I'd have to drop the mask to do that and draw my sword at the same time.

That alone saves us.

When I can speak, I demand of the man-eater, "Will you swear you had no part in this?"

"I had none," he answers. "Those monks want Meiko. I kept her from them, but Saki is Meiko's mirror."

That's not all Kenta has done, but I'm not here to argue with a man-eater. This could be nothing but deceit and the man-eater has Saki, but I can cast another net for it to tangle itself into.

"I'll believe you," I say, "if thrice you'll swear those words are true."

To my despair and surprise, the man-eater repeats himself, even adding that he'll tell naught but the truth of the mask.

I need to see that Saki is safe, right now, and if not... I will face that only if I must.

"Was there blood where you found this?" I ask.

"Not a whiff."

Ice begins to course through my veins.

"Then whatever your grudge with the monks," I say, slipping the mask into my clothes so it rests against my chest, "if I drive them up the path, do nothing to them."

"My grudge runs deeper than any of yours can, foreigner."

"I don't care," I sneer. To honor my oath or to spite the monks, I settle on being honest. "They carry spells, some sort of tamed grudges, that can bind kitsune. One must've been used on Saki, thinking she was Meiko. If I were the monks, I'd never have come without at least three spells." I point my thumb over my shoulder. "After all, there are many kitsune on this mountain, not just the oni they hunt."

"You want me to keep Meiko away instead of finding my own vengeance," the man-eater rightly guesses. "What if I keep her from you and Saki?"

"If any part of your darkened heart cares about Meiko," I utter, rage freezing in my chest, "you will let her see her sister when I'm climbing back up this mountain with her. Saki won't chase you alone, and I still must uphold our oath."

I don't know that about Saki, nor do I speak of anything except my hope, but if I smell of her then perhaps the man-eater will believe she trusts me.

Without waiting for a reply I start walking down the path.

"Swear it thrice," the man-eater calls behind me. "What you just promised. Swear it thrice!"

I could refuse. The oni must have no means to stop me, and if he cares about Meiko as it seems he might then he'd be trapped even without the oaths.

"Your name," I call out. "Tell me your name and I shall."

When no reply comes, I set off with hastened steps. Crunching and shuffling loudly through the forest, what I take for Kenta follows me. But he doesn't speak.

Not until the ruined shrines on the sides of the path start to grow in number. "What's your name, foreigner?"

"Yours first," I demand, not stopping when I know the man-eater is at last desperate.

I hear nothing but wind through winter trees. As I pass by the first shrine still standing, though poorly tended, I hear a distant call through the trees.

"Kenta. My name is Kenta. Will you swear that oath now?"

I don't tell my name to the man-eater nor look back, but I stop. Since he asked without demanding my name in trade, I give him the oath he doesn't need. For if he's not Kenta, he'll die when I come back up this mountain. Not to my blades but, I can only hope, Saki's.

Once I've spoken, I leave the twister forest behind, memorizing every word we traded.

Our next meeting won't end bloodlessly, yet for now Kenta is not my concern. Keeping myself from running down these steps is all that matters in this moment, then it's whether or not I need to draw my sword before entering the village.