FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Beneath a crescent moon I stalk towards my prey. Slow steps bring me silence, my ears listening for the slightest rustle while my eyes sweep every few steps for the glow of lamps.

A lone light moves, a pair of men walking from the village toward the same hut I make for.

I keep away from the water, where the moon's reflection might show a shadow of my passing, and start to crawl along the embankments of empty rice fields. The pair of men are a long sprint away. I won't make it to them, and even if I did, there should be a guard outside the hut watching their light.

That saves them, and me, from the wrath in my chest.

They make it unharmed to the hut and I hear three different voices. There is a third man like I thought.

I stop in a low spot and wait for them to finish speaking to the guard. I'm one man in a village with no one I trust. Cutting through every monk I meet would slake the battle thirst rising in me, but what of a pursuit? What of too many foes for me to fell alone? What I must be isn't the fury and rage of battle.

Once their lamp disappears, I creep towards the hut, going around the back where no one patrols. Every step I take is careful, lest a forgotten stick crunch under my boot or a patch of mud squelch at my passing.

How many seasons has it been since I've hunted? Too long. I take care to be nothing more than a shade of the night's gloom.

Memory scratches through my focus. It was a dark night chasing after the laughter of my faerie 'guides' around ancient trees and oaks choking out the light of moon and star, the ground thick with leaves and mossy rocks. The laughter of faeries stopped once I drew my sword to tap out the path ahead of me.

Like that night so long ago, wit and steel will see me through. I know it in my bones, and if I asked the runes, they would say the same.

The drone of chanting reaches my ears. I barely breathe as I slink towards the back wall of the hut, cupping a hand to my ear so I might find the thinnest spot.

There, at a thin crack leaking a splinter of light too small to see through, I hear voices. Nothing I can make out, but I crouch and put my curled fingers and ear against old wood. I wait, straining to listen past the chanting. They're not speaking as low as they should be, but it's quiet enough I struggle to make out scraps of conversation.

Before I am certain of words, I know one of the voices belongs to Genji. The rest are monks I haven't yet heard speak. Slowly, I begin to hear pieces of what they talk about.

"... haven't found... yet."

"Keep... and... your hand bandaged?" Genji asks.

"A... iron needle... my palm."

"Let me see."

"It's..."

The whispering grows quieter, as if they're leaning in. I wait a few painful moments, and I'm rewarded with the whispering barely reaching me once more.

"Can't find..."

The chanting rises, blocking what else is said. My scars itch, but the nonsense quiets back down soon enough.

"We haven't... her chest."

"Nothing... all that fur?"

"Or..."

"Grab... I will search... shame myself," Genji orders. At least I believe it's him. The pounding of my heart is like a drum in my skull, a battle song pulsing through my veins.

Do I strike now?

No. They're still talking.

"Where... she hide it?"

"Women have…"

"Huh?" a startled, younger, voice almost shouts.

"... she might... hidden..."

My skin prickles. Are they talking about...?

"We've searched everything," someone whispers, just a little louder.

"But not inside," a third voice mutters, annoyed at the ignorance.

I press my finger against the wall, furious to feel it's solid. Even if I had an axe it would take too long to break through.

"... mouth... empty."

"Women... between their legs, you fool."

There's not enough of a gap between the thatch and wall for me to get in that way, and no shuttered windows I notice in shadows upon shadows.

"... in her... are we supposed to-"

"Silence," Genji snaps in a whisper. "Lift her... I will..."

Icy rage spreads through me at the thought of these monks not only capturing Saki, or Meiko I remind myself, but searching her - or worse. What terrible deeds have these monks already done? Do I start killing or do I demand answers?

I remember my friend's daughter, how we saved her from being sacrificed to a being of fire that had been insulted by everything that happened, and the strange pebble it gave me still in my pouch. Iron squeezes my heart. We saved her, but we were too late. The men that took her had done worse than capture and search her.

I open my eyes and slink around the hut. I don't draw a blade. There would be too much frightful noise from a blade's kill, but I keep those borrowed knives snug in my sleeve anyway. They'll come out quicker than a dagger if I need them.

Past the droning chants, ahead of me, I hear a puff of breath as the guard at the door warms a hand. He sets the lantern down, saving his life as I come around the corner.

I stand upright, no emotion upon my face, and I'm noticed by the guard before I'm within striking distance. His brow works, trying to make out who I am. It's not Ichiro out here as I'd expected, but a stocky man with a crooked nose.

His mouth opens in a question that never comes.

I lunge, my fingers curl around a soft neck and squeezing tight as I lift his feet from the ground. He chokes, quieter than the chanting, his hands grabbing at my wrist to try and free himself.

I swing a fist into his face, rattling him with a thump of bone and flesh. I pull him closer and ram my knee into his stomach. He tries to wretch, but my fingers are iron upon his throat, veins on his face bulging as he reddens. With his feet flailing above the ground, my furious sinew feeling none of the weight, I hold him aside and pull open the crude door.

Of course I step away, those within only seeing the glow of a lantern fighting against the night.

My hand releases the man's throat. He sputters before wheezing, hands fighting helplessly as I get hold of his clothes.

"What is going on?" I hear Genji say.

Right as I twist, foot stomping in the turn, and heave the battered monk into the hut by the back of his robes.

He slams into the ground and rolls up against a monk lost into a chant. My broad shoulders duck low as I hunch through the doorway, one hand reaching back to close the crude door behind me.

I stand straight as I can with the low rafters and sloped roof, towering above the monks within. Around the hearth are four monks sitting in an uncomfortable crosslegged position and chanting as they hold beads, minds and spirits somewhere else. I can feel the low buzz of magic from whatever they're doing. Struggling to his knees is the man I attacked, hand on his throat as he coughs and tries not to disturb the chanting monk he bumped into. On the far side of the hut woven mats are draped from rafters as a divider, the light of oil lamps beyond casting the shadows of at least two men. And peeking out from behind the divider is Genji, face stern as he stares at me.

"Had the moon strengthened their curses upon you," Genji says to me, "you would have attacked me on the way back from here." He nods to himself while I reach towards my belt and untie my sword, scabbard and all. "Did the tengu get to you first? I should have considered such a possibility."

His words are rain rolling off me. I look around the hut, their fate balancing upon whether I find the kitsune.

"Master," Ichiro snarls, coming around the divider and snatching up a staff leaned against one of the hut's four central posts. "Get away from him."

"Don't call me master," Genji says. "But you are right. The traveler is bewitched or thoroughly cursed. Try not to break him, all of you."

All the old monk does is lift his hand. The chanting stops, and every monk around the fire looks at me, rising to their feet smoothly.

My sheathed sword comes off my belt.

I knew words would be meaningless. I know they still are. Maybe it's rage burning so hot I cannot feel it or my withered honor that makes me speak anyway.

"Say again what you whispered," I demand, holding the sword by its scabbard. "Where will you search her?"

I don't dare blink, lest my thoughts turn to what they could have been doing to Saki or Meiko behind that divider, or how fast a search of a helpless woman can turn into unforgivable acts.

Genji matches my gaze, only his hand on Ichiro's shoulder keeping the scarred monk from coming at me. The four by the fire are sliding to their feet slowly, worming towards the posts where staves are leaned, as if I wouldn't notice.

"Set your weapons by the door, Egil," Genji offers. "We will not touch them. Sit by the fire, and we will free you from the evil the fox demons have done to your mind and memory." His head dips in a nod. "Then we can talk."

"Though it was not thrice spoken," I glare at each of the men shuffling towards their weapons, "we had an agreement. That you broke, Genji."

"A wise man would-"

"Would have cut your head from your shoulders and slaughtered the rest of you," I utter, judging it too dangerous to draw my sword.

Against staves, even in this tight space, the blade might break. My daggers might do, but they won't have enough reach.

This is going to hurt if I live to see tomorrow.

Somebody lurches for a staff, and a fire blackened knife flings from my sleeve. I'm a step and a half away when the flat of the knife smacks him across the mouth. That monk tumbles over. The other three lunge for their staves. Ichiro, bandage on his hand, starts circling around, and another man comes around the opposite side of the woven divider.

Another knife snaps from my hand, the nearest monk pointlessly ducking. The blade thumps into the arm of the man behind him, and I get a pillar between me and most of the rest.

My sword's pommel smashes a monk in the wrist as he starts to snap his staff at me. The moment he has a single hand on his weapon, I slap the scabbard against his jaw and kick at the inside of his leg. He goes down, and I retreat as two men rush me.

Bronze capped staves thrust toward my stomach and face.

I twist my sheathed sword, swatting one weapon off course and feeling the other go across my arm. My foes are fast, the staff I mostly dodged whipping back and smacking my shoulder. Ichiro and Genji hang back, not yet a concern, and no one else is in quick striking range. There are a lot of monks in this hut. Too many for them to all be swinging their staves at me without hitting rafters, poles, or each other, but there are enough monks that I can't keep an eye on all of them. My dangerous, distracted thought breaks. The staff I blocked retreats, hunting for a better angle. The staff pulling away from my shoulder I grab and twist, snapping it out of the monk's grasp and right into his companion's ribs. That monk winces but somehow stays upright.

Safe for another few breaths, I make a wild swing with the staff to clear space. The disarmed monk drags his slightly bent companion out of the way of whooshing bronze and wood. I let go of the stolen weapon, throwing it and rushing. I grip my scabbard in both hands.

A single fleeting thought crosses my mind - I must teach Miki swords like mine are for more than cutting.

Teeth crack against metal, the iron pommel a cruel cudgel. That monk helping his hunched fellow doesn't go down, but he fumbles aside. Ichiro runs into range and is about to strike me, but I get a pillar between us while smacking the bent monk across the jaw. His head jerks and he stumbles, nearly collapsing into the fire.

The other clutches a horribly bleeding mouth, at least until I collapse his knee with a kick.

Wood snaps across my back. I twist, jabbing the metal capped point of my scabbard at a retreating monk holding a broken piece of firewood. It misses, and Ichiro is on me.

The scarred monk is a flurry of punches and kicks, his staff abandoned after what he's seen I can do. His fists thump annoyingly against my chest and arms. He's a whelp compared to me, but even a whelp's blows can hurt if you ignore them long enough. I swipe my scabbard, turning it to get him behind the neck, but he's gone before I can hook him.

Ichiro's shoulder rams into my stomach and drives me back half a step.

Soon as I raise my sword to bash the pommel against his spine, a staff smacks under my arms. My sword knocks free of my grip and a man with a knife sticking out of his upper arm charges towards us with a bellow.

Before Ichiro can think of pulling a dagger off my belt, I reach down and grab his head. My finger digs at his face until I hear the satisfying scream of a man getting an eye gouged.

An arm weak from the knife it in, the wounded monk strikes at my face with a staff. Wood and bronze bounce off my arm, snapping back before I can catch it. Ichiro's scream turns determined, his feet scratching at the dirt floor to push me back while he turns his face away from my fingers. I get his ear instead, twisting and pulling hard enough my nails are warmed by blood. A bit more and I'll rip it off.

I duck my head, nose nearly shattered by bronze that rustles through my hair. Ichiro shoves me closer to the wall.

Getting pinned will kill me.

My bloodied fingers snatch Ichiro's clothes, my knees bend, and with a raging shout I heave him off the ground as a shield. Saki nearly stopped me from doing the same thing, but this man? He might as well be a child flailing in surprise. I charge forward with all the fury I've held back.

Everyone gets out of my way, stupidly abandoning their best opportunity in this fight as I give into anger.

One of the posts ends my charge. The entire hut rattles as Ichiro slams, between the legs first, into the post. Right before I crash into them both.

I stumble back, Ichiro collapsing to the ground and curling into a ball of agony.

He's alive, but no doubt wishes he wasn't. Or he will once there's more than pain.

I've lost sight of two men, but the rest are clutching wounds, rolling about on the floor, or staring. That hardly matters. A man with a staff jabs at my legs.

I had enough of that when I came into this village.

Saki's gifted dagger hisses off my belt as I back away. The attacking man flinches when he sees the blade, no doubt expecting me to throw this one as well, and his staff snaps up into a guard to swat anything down.

I lunge and swipe at his arm.

The staff twirls, smacking the blade away like I expected. I grasp the center of his weapon and push with all my weight, shoving him back with both hands. Skill is important, but it can only make up for so much against might.

The monk doesn't let go, so I fling him by his weapon at a post. His legs slam into it. He lets go of the staff, rolls, and staggers up to his hands and knees instead of crumbling.

My boots are running to kick him in the ribs or face when something loops over my head.

Rope bites against my neck, the weight of a man slamming against my back and pulling down stopping me. I choke, nearly falling, but I stamp a foot down and endure as an oak in a storm.

He wants me to collapse or open myself up for another attack. Choking, my back arching, I grab the rope behind my head before panicked breathlessness can set in. A piece of firewood slams against my stomach, nearly breaking my grip. It's the monk I just swung around, and he starts striking at me like I'm a drum.

My foot stomps his, upsetting the rhythmic beating. My teeth grit hard enough that my vision reddens, every scrap of strength I have heaving forward so rope bites into my hands from a man's full weight. A twist of my hips, pull of my arms, and I just barely swing him around - right into the monk rearing back to flatten my nose with firewood.

The pair crash down. I kick and stomp, sending both sprawling into a mess.

When they can barely move, another monk lunges at me from the side in a tackle. I drop a punch into his head, slamming him into the floor.

The monk he was distracting me for leaps onto my back. Was this the one I threw into the hut?

Why? Why can they not stay down? Why could they not listen and let me see the kitsune?

I roar, grab the man going for a chokehold by his arms, and fling him around. I grasp his shoulders and slam his face into a post over and over until both drip with blood. I don't know or care if it was bone or wood that cracked. He slumps down like the rest of the gasping, groaning wretches.

Genji, standing by the woven divider this entire time, stares at me as I pant for each burning breath.

He takes a step back.

Towards the kitsune hidden away back there. Going for a hostage? To kill her?

All the fury in my blood roars. I grab the nearest thing, a person, and heave it off the ground with my muscle and sinew burning with battle's fire. Genji freezes, a hand rising and venom coming from his lips.

With one lurching step, I hurl the battered man into the old monk. He does his best to catch his companion, but they still slam into the wall together.

My chest heaves, gasping lungs loud as my heart in my head as I storm to the last of my enemies. Genji's wicked tongue tries to speak, and I shut it up by kicking his head into the wall. He doesn't talk after that, and the man I tossed isn't getting up after I give him a few more blows.

Rage drags me through the room where I pummel and kick and stomp every groaning body until I'm certain they won't be standing. Only then, when I'm certain the fight is finished, do I lean against a bloodied post and try to catch my breath.

Each ragged lungful burns, my limbs wanting to shake with weakness. It would have been so much simpler if I came in here with my sword swinging. I let anger decide for me, and at least twice they nearly had me.

Eventually I find the strength to straighten up.

My fingers touch a rafter as I stretch to feel for broken bones. A lot of new bruises, but no crippling agony tries to cut me down. Only after I check both my hands and see if my fingers still bend the right way do I go about tying up the monks.

With battle draining from my blood and exhaustion creeping in, a twinge of regret comes to me as I hogtie each of the battered and bleeding monks. They're all still breathing, for now. It didn't need to end this way, but it could have been worse. It still might be. I gag a few with strips from their robes, but there's not enough time to get all of them.

The blood of several monks stains my sleeves and the weapons I gather up. The pommel of my sword is thick with it, and I spare a moment to wipe most of it off. I leave the knife I threw in the man's arm, however, just so I don't accidentally make the wound worse. Wounds on the monks are friends of mine tonight.

Safe as I can be after making all the monks my enemies, I finally give into the burning need that drove me here.

Which kitsune did the monks capture?

Have I finally found Saki, or is my night only going to worsen?

Stomach in my throat, I make my way past the divider where oil lamps still burn. I hadn't even thought about the fires. We'd all be dead if the fight had knocked over a lamp or kicked coals out of the hearth. I swallow that sudden bitter thought and focus on what's behind the divider.

A kitsune is on the ground, a blanket hastily thrown over her. Eight tails splay out behind and beneath her. Rings of white around each eye, those distinct black tipped ears, and her relaxed face cast doubt upon my heart. She looks asleep, almost, but something is wrong. I can't see what in this dim light, or whether it's the woman I know so well instead of her crazed sister, but I trust the feeling.

Since nothing in the fight disturbed her, now I have to.

My mouth dries as I whip the blanket off her.

Eerie, inky black clings to her and thin ropes, the magic twisting and flowing like living writing script written on fur and cord. Another spell born of a grudge, binding her more than the mere cords on her arms and legs ever could. That's not what makes rage pound in my head, however. She's almost completely bare save for the simple loincloth that looks partly unknotted and the loosened wrappings around her chest that look to have been hastily put back on. I can hear the drum of my heart start to pound battle into my ears again.

I ignore it and kneel down beside her. I want to believe it's Saki, but right now it doesn't matter which kitsune she is. I've had their hospitality, and more from the lonely two eldest burdened by so much. Seeing one of these sisters bound and disrobed is an insult to what little honor I might have. One of the man-eater sarugami, last time I was in this village, wanted to have his 'fun' with Miki before eating her. The monks, while not as vile as man-eaters, can't be trusted. They hate kitsune. They don't seem to regard women much better. Would they do something to a helpless kitsune other than search her?

A man I would still call a friend, whose daughter we saved yet didn't, would have urged me to kill every last monk in the hut for her honor regardless of what's happened while I wasn't here. He'd tell me to break their bones as we'd done to all those raiders that took one of his family and defiled her, before we threw the screaming men off a cliff. His wisdom sorely tempts me.

Every aching muscle in my body is tense. If I draw my sword, I could plunge it through the hearts of each helpless monk. Whether they searched for her hoshinotama or had other ideas, I don't care. Blood would wash away this rage.

And better, death, with a weapon in their hands, might insult everything the monks believe in. Whatever they expect when they die, would it be cruel or kind to send them off as one of my kin? The gods and my ancestors would certainly be amused should these confounding men end up in their halls.

My rage cracks like brittle ice, my shoulders loosening as a fit of shaking nearly comes over me.

No killing. Not yet. Not when this could have been nothing but a search. Not until I hear from the eight-tail herself.

I get on my knees and stare at the inky black restraining her along with the ropes around her arms and legs. A moth chewed memory flickers at the edge of my thoughts. I try to ignore it and scoop an arm behind her back. Soft fur against my skin stirs thoughts of this winter, of the pain and despair that began to scab over despite all my brooding. Half remembered moments clash together in a confused jumble as I slip my hand under the cloth wrapped around her chest. The small smile Saki would give me, Rin's laugh, the taste of wine we shared, the longing in Saki's eyes in her training hall, Rin unmoved by my waking nightmare terror that grabbed at her, and so many scattered dreams that weren't dreams.

I move my hand across the eight-tail’s back, through fur, and touch the marred flesh from the betrayal of a man she dared to love. A wound she spoke little of but that has surely weighed upon her since she approached me with an offer I mistook for something more cunning and callous.

I gasp in relief, emotions nearly crushing me into the ground under the churn of their tide. But I don't let them drag me down just yet. What holds me up is knowing I need to get Saki somewhere safe now that I've finally found her.

The ropes binding her ankles and wrists are too tight to undo easily. I get a dagger out and bring the blade close to saw them off. The inky black clinging to Saki slithers towards me, the blade slipping off without feeling like I drew it across anything.

I pull the dagger away. I'm not touching that spell with my fingers. Not when I know nothing about it.

I glare over at the monks.

There should be a small gold vessel the spell came from, but there are many monks to search and an entire hut to look through. I won't waste time, every new breath could be interrupted by a patrol coming to visit this hut. I stand, blade still in hand, and go towards Genji. The old monk's defiant eyes expect me to torture him.

I know he won't break. Not in a single night.

Genji screams, his eyes widening in horror when I turn and stab one of his younger disciples through the foot. That was the man that choked me with a rope. The old monk thrashes against his bindings as I tie up the younger man's wound to stem the bleeding. Rage turns to pleading when I find the man who broke firewood against my back, Genji unable to stop the wound I gift to a second monk.

Neither pride nor shame find me. Both of the wounded monks might walk with limps for a year after this, but I took care to avoid any veins. If the wound is kept clean it should heal. And now, neither of them can chase me.

I can tell Genji is more willing to talk now. I let him stew in that fear as I bind the second wound.

It's a cruel trade I'm making, but more of the monks will be focused on the injured whenever I escape from this village. There's a chance Rin can offer medicine if I haven't made unwavering foes for her. But right now I need as few pursuers as I can get, especially when I doubt the sarugami's loyalty to Rin.

I go to Genji, wipe the dagger covered in blood on his clothes, then pull his gag down.

He wants to curse me. I can see it in his eyes, the righteous anger and pain of helplessness. Then it drains away as he stares in my eyes, leaving me looking down at a sly old monk. Despite his buried fury, I'm not a hopeless monster to him.

I don't understand these monks.

"What have you done?" I demand.

Genji's resolve settles. "What did those fox demons do to you?" he asks calmly. "What lies have they snared you in?"

I crouch, consider roughing him up to calm myself down, then decide against it.

"You don't ask questions," I tap the dirt floor with my dagger, "unless you want more holes in your disciples."

That threat ripples the fake calm. Genji's eyes narrow, too willfully for my liking.

"Every question you ask me from now on is one more strike on your fellows, delivered by your choice," I tell him. "So tell me, what have you done here?"

Genji thinks about not speaking anymore, but a glance to the other bound monks breaks that willfulness. He'll feel the weight of every wound I put on the younger monks, as if he himself held the dagger. "We captured Meiko," he relents, sounding old and tired, "as I told you."

I flip the dagger, catch the blade, and slap him with the pommel. Genji coughs, bleeding from a split lip.

"You captured her twin," I growl. "I tried to stop this mistake, to see if it was a misunderstanding, and you refused at the last moment."

"You are deceived," he says, trying not to spit.

"By your lie."

"By fox demons twisting your thoughts and dreams. Had you let us cleanse you-"

"I'd be tied up next to her," I finish for him.

"Had you allowed us to help you, you would have seen the truth," he explains, as if having to find the patience for a dull child. "Fox demons use men. Twist their hearts until a man is too ruined to save. But it is not too late for me to help you be freed of their temptation, Egil. What they've done to you is a stain that I can see so clearly after the walk in the moonlight."

"You're stalling for a patrol," I say, rising to my feet.

"Wait!" Genji pleads. "I speak the truth, nothing more!"

My boot presses into his stomach, in just the right spot to make it hard to breathe. "Do you think me a newborn?" I utter. "Either you tell me how to free that kitsune, or I start breaking your disciple's fingers."

"The ropes," Genji gasps. "You're strong enough to undo the knots."

I rub lingering blood off my dagger. "If my blade cannot cut it," I say, slipping the dagger away, "I won't be grabbing it."

My foot comes off Genji's stomach. He sucks a breath in and I kick him in the ribs. The old monk wheezes, and I walk towards Ichiro.

I don't know if I'm furious with him for being one of the voices talking about searching Saki or if I pity the man for the silent tears and pale agony upon his face. He hit the post hard between his legs. I almost didn't tie him up, as he won't be rising for quite some time. Still, a threat means nothing if the one I made it to doesn't believe. I bend down, grab one of Ichiro's weakly struggling fingers, and brace myself.

"Wait," Genji coughs, "wait, I beg of you, Egil."

He's not shouting. That's a decent change.

I consider giving that sharp twist that would pop Ichiro's little finger the wrong direction. Then I turn my eyes to Genji and leave that up to him.

Fear finally shows in his gaze, not of me but for his disciple. Why does he not blame me, even now? A trouble for later.

"Why do you want to free that kitsune?" he asks.

He doesn't deserve an answer.

Still, I give him one. "She wants to get rid of that man-eater oni more than me."

"Kenta is our responsibility," Genji says, wavering. I can't tell if he's trying to save his disciples by not denying it's Saki on the ground, or if he's having doubts. The price of the threats I made.

"Do you really believe the sarugami's master will leave it be?" I ask. "The tengu tried to burn down the mountain once, what is to stop her from doing it again?"

A moment of surprise widens Genji's eyes. He'd never heard that. "Morigawa no Izumi? That tengu?"

"Yes."

Genji is shaken, without a drop of cunning in him. He stares at me and begs, "Don't undo the spell without us. Terror shall befall these mountains if you undo those bindings without us."

"Why should I believe a man that's lied to me?"

I shove Ichiro away and stand up. Speaking with Genji is getting me nowhere helpful. I go to tie his mouth shut once more, with every intention of getting answers from someone not delirious from pain or too sly to trust, when the old monk heaves out a pathetic sigh.

"I will undo it."

For only a heartbeat I stare at him.

Then I force the cloth back over his mouth and tighten it so he can barely make a muffled sound. I cannot believe the old monk again. Not about this. With Genji silenced, I go to the kitsune myself. Standing over Saki I touch the pouch with faerie stones and try to recall what little scraps about magic I've learned in my travels.

Start with a circle, but first I must search for supplies...

---

I drag my foot to the slightly open door, bitter unease in my throat.

A circle of salt, pilfered from a jar in the hut, is around Saki. And around that, a guiding path to the door. The pebble gifted to me by that being of fire I set at the doorway. I don't know why I do that, other than it feels right.

Unlike my good friend's daughter, who we saved from being sacrificed to that being of fire, I want to believe I was swift enough to keep Saki's honor. If not, then every last monk will-

I clutch a rage shaking fist around my pendant, the silver biting into my skin.

I cannot think such thoughts. Not yet.

The cold outside seeps into the hut. The hearth burns low, but the lamps don't flicker. I make my way back to Saki, walking inside the double sided path I made, and glance at the monks. I put them all against the walls except for Genji. He's tied to a post and begging for me to stop through the cloth gag.

I ignore him, though I agree.

What I'm doing isn't foolish, it's stupid.

But I know I don't have the strength to carry Saki somewhere safe, and I'm trusting the sarugami too much already. Any moment a patrol of monks could come to this hut, or someone could be looking for Genji. If the sarugami have upheld their word, that is - I've barely spared a moment to think of the possibility that's been gnawing at my nerves.

I stop before Saki, orient myself on which way is north and south, then stand beside her at the northmost place I don't need to hunch. Only then do I make protection for myself, bowing to each of the four directions, asking for their aid and protection. A thin thing I know little of, but the people of the land I was in before this one told me many stories of the guardians of each direction. It's supposedly more complicated in this land, but this will have to do for now.

Kneeling beside the kitsune, within the guiding boundary but not touching the ring of salt, I lift two river stones with smooth holes in them.

The words that make it across my lips are old prayers, beseeching gods of my homeland. The fair summer god, weak now but gaining strength by the day. The one-eyed god, the raven speaker, the traveller and master of the runes. The one-handed god, not for the victory he reigns over but so that he might witness why I am doing this. And the trickster, the lie-smith, the god of fire himself, who I must have entertained in this village, and whom I won't leave unspoken lest he find it insulting.

I ask them to watch me, and to behold my furious final moments if this fails.

One of the stones I set in front of me. I stand and slowly start to walk, watching the eerie black upon Saki writhe like angry ink. It's bunching up away from the stone I placed and the one I hold.

"-Be settled, your grudges forgotten,-" I bid the spell, not touching the thin circle of salt. "-Cross the bridge, pass your river. Find your realm of rest, leave your torment."

Dark ink spills upward, floating as if dripped in water, yet most of it still clings to the ropes around Saki. A cold that has nothing to do with the cracked open door tries to seep through me.

I keep walking, heart hammering in fear.

"-Begone from what binds you,-" I utter, "-take the path offered, follow the warmth gifted. Cast off regrets, walk into peaceful night.-"

Intent matters, not the words. More eerie black floats up above Saki.

The cold wraps around my back as a heavy cloak. Flames in the hearth dim, almost nothing but coals remaining, and the lamps flicker. And something watches me as I step back by the stone I set down. It's not the monks. It's not a person. Something else is waiting, watching, and interested.

"-Bind no more, bindings shall fall from you.-"

I start around the salt circle once more.

"-Slipping away in the night, forgetting your fetters. No more you must bind, no more you will be bound. Cross the bridge, pass the river. Regret a worn cloak, peace upon the hills beyond.-"

The faerie stone on the ground cracks. I stand opposite to it and move as my gut urges.

My boot swipes through the salt circle and I hold the river stone close to me. Something hisses, frustrated and furious. Wind whips through the hut, the cold tries to push me down, and the lamps flicker. A deep dark, blacker than a cloudy night without the moon, pools onto the ground in front of me. The wispy ink flows like smoke towards the blackness, twisting into form and weight and freed rage.

It looks at me but not with eyes.

My breath holds, frozen in my lungs.

This is no grudge like the spell in Rin's home, where I could sense the resentment.

Contempt, wild as a beast on a spoiled hunt, glares up at me with a lone intent. Two thin, inky tendrils remain behind the crouching form as tails. White teeth and fangs bare at me, ready to pounce. The glow of unfinished eyes meet my gaze.

I thrust the faerie stone at the form and shout, "-Leave and let be forgotten, your torment and what you torment!-"

The shape growls, shirking away from me. It bumps into the edge of the flimsy guiding path as if it were a stone wall.

"-No quarrel we have, go and find none upon this mountain,-" I urge, hoping my voice doesn't shake like my icy fingers.

The dark shape hisses, breath unpleasant but not the rot of a man-eater. Its hate storms towards the barely open door, dust billowing as it snatches the fire gifted pebble I left there. The door knocks over as the dark thing flees into the night.

Cold squeezes my shoulders, icicles trying to pierce through my flesh. The stone in my fingers crumbles to ash and sand, and the lamps flicker and flare.

Light returns and I see the kitsune by my feet is bound with only rope now.

I didn't get us all killed. I nearly did, messing with magics I assumed to be much different, but we're alive. I suck in a deep breath, weight lifting my back and all the pain of the fights I've had returning.

It hurts to bow to the four directions, but I owe thanks for the slight peace of mind the ritual brought me if nothing else. I've angered enough people and now things tonight, I don't need the directions themselves or their guardians annoyed with me.

With my protection let go, I grab a lamp and shuffle towards the door.

I see no sign of a beast outside, nor do I notice any lights rushing about. Anyone looking this way might assume I'm one of the monks, so I grab the door and put it back in place. It will at least warn me if anything tries to get inside.

One of the monks shouts something at me through his gag. I'm too worn out to care. I feed a few sticks into the hearth and tend the fire until it's crackling. Only when I can feel the sting of cold leaving my fingers do I stand back up and make my way back to the kitsune. The mats had to be pulled aside to make the guiding path, but now I pull the rough weaving back in place.

Soon as I turn around, the kitsune groans, shuffling against her rope bindings. My heart beats faster, strength returning as concern burns in my chest.

Slowly, so I don't spill any oil, I go to her side and set the lamp down.

"Saki, it's me," I say softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

"Nrgh," she half whines, half groans.

Eyes squint as she barely lifts her head. Dark, cold brown stares through me. Then at me, warming by the heartbeat.

"Egil?" she mutters through a dry throat, that one word proving all my cruelty and foolish acts necessary.

At once I'm going for the bindings on her, using a dagger to saw at the ropes.

"It's alright, Saki," I quietly assure her, or maybe myself. "I'm here."

"How?" she asks.

"A monk visitor tried to use a sealing spell in your home," I whisper, freeing her arms and starting on another rope. "Rin and I stopped it, but worried you might have been taken by surprise by the monks coming down."

"Anyone hurt?"

"None of your sisters," I tell her, her shoulders easing slightly. "Akemi was grazed by the spell, but Rin told me she'll be fine after some rest."

"She will," the eight-tail nods. A moment later her eyes widen. "You're hurt," she notices, as if she's not the one still tied up and barely able to lift her hand.

"Scrapes. I'll be fine."

She knows me too well to believe me, but she nods with a stiff neck anyway. Then, one of her hands touching my leg, she looks down at the ropes I'm still getting off of her.

"How?" she asks again.

"The ropes?"

"No," she utters. "The spell."

"I broke it with mad foolishness," I explain, moving to the last rope around her hips. "A faerie gifted stone, cursed things I'm burdened to forget, aided Rin in returning the spell cast in her home back to its vessel. I didn't have time to look for the vessel here, so I used most of my remaining faerie stones and broke free whatever made up the spell."

"Dangerous," she mutters.

"To us?" I ask, remembering how the dark shape growled. "Something got away."

"Not now," she replies. Then, as I pull the last of the ropes away, her hand weakly grabs mine. Deep brown eyes draw me in, the words from her lips free from any masks she might wear. "Thank you."

"Hold any thanks," I whisper.

"No," she refuses, her tiny smile bringing more life back to me than she'll ever know.

All the terror I've felt since setting foot in this village crashes down upon me. I almost lost what I only days ago accepted, and now I nearly lose the thin strength keeping me going. How she sees it, I don't know, but Saki's calloused fingers squeeze my hand. Comforting me, when I should be the one assuring her it's alright.

I breathe in, trying to find strength in having her safe.

So that I don't crack, I glance at the hanging mats separating us from the monks. None of them could see through the thin gaps, even if they were on their feet.

"We're surrounded by enemies and on the wrong side of the river. Thanks will have to wait."

"We'll get back," Saki declares softly.

She doesn't know how relieved I am to hear her again.

"Will you be able to walk?" I ask.

"Soon," she says, an ear slowly flicking. "And fight."

I trust her to know her strength, but now comes the hardest question.

The one that's been too agonizing, too rage stoking for me to consider in my thoughts. But the one that's been squeezing my heart the entire time and making me want to kill the frustrating monks.

"Did they," I drop my voice to a scant whisper only her ears can find, "mistreat you beyond the spell?"

"No," she assures me, a freed tail wrapping around my arm and sharing warmth I've missed.

"You're certain?"

"I remember," she says slowly, "pieces. Being carried, talking, the old monk threatening the spell could break. They feared him. They wouldn't finish searching me until he was here."

Maybe I shouldn't, but I tell her the whispered words I heard before deciding battle was the only path left for me to take.

Where the monks were going to search her next, or what it sounded like to me.

She's unbothered. I don't think it's a mask for my sake, or her own.

She plucks the dagger from my fingers and sets it aside. She can't sit up yet, but I get on my knees beside her without thinking. Both her hands cradle one of mine and she ever so softly speaks, "They don't know what the oni took from Meiko. That's what they wanted."

"What?" I ask, heart atop a stormy sea and unable to follow what she means.

I want to believe she's okay, but what if she's just trying to comfort me?

"They believe," she murmurs, "that Meiko still has her hoshinotama."

A tail rubs up my side, then goes towards her mouth. It rises between us and rolling forth from the fur is a round gem, my body blocking sight of it from any monks that might peep through a gap in the hanging mats. Her hoshinotama sits in fur before us, a jewel that means so much to these kitsune. Trust is too weak a word for what it means for her to show it to me at this moment, with so many enemies around.

With a flick she vanishes the gem and pulls her tail away. She mutters, "They could only bind me. They need the jewel to seal me."

I must not seem convinced. She pulls my hand towards her chest, making me hunch low enough for her to muster the strength to kiss my cheek. The warmth of affection flows in from her touch.

"I'm fine," she whispers, gaze gaining strength by the breath.

Sitting up, with help from me, Saki's eyes become level with mine. She touches the dagger I took back hold of without noticing. My eight-tail lover takes the blade from me and sets it safely aside. Had I been holding it like I might leap up and gut the monks?

"If they did more than search," she whispers, "you know I'd ask you to kill them with me."

I nod, so many painful emotions wrapped around my heart. Briars grow anew in me, trying to drag me to memories of a friend's blazing rage as I helped him find his stolen daughter.

Saki is telling me the truth, right? She's not trying to comfort me with soft lies, is she? I wasn't too late, as we were too late for the dignity and honor of my friend's daughter, was I?

Saki tries to pluck away my doubts by touching her nose to mine, whiskers tickling my cold misted beard. The same look of love as in those dreams that weren't quite dreams, and after our passionate tumble, behold me. "Egil," she mingles her breath with mine, "please don't look so hurt. You found me."

"Was I too late?" I barely manage to whisper.

"No," she promises, eyes alight with love and all that she cannot find words for.

I pat her hands, unable to speak.

Now is not the time for me to feel doubt, and this hut is certainly not the place for me to go weak. I draw in a new breath, then crouch and move away. Just enough to grab the blanket and drape it across her shoulders. Sensing my resolve returning, she listlessly begins loosening her neck and shoulders.

I get my dagger put away and stand up. I watch Saki work the stiffness out of her neck and back, some small assurance coming to me when I notice how her breast bindings and loincloth don't slip as she rises with my help. She'd tell me if something happened - I'd never abandon her over such a thing, but what I'd do to the men responsible would turn the stomachs of whoever found their corpses.

Hearing us, a monk, one of Genji's less beaten disciples, tries to yell at me through his gag. Accusations or pleas for me to understand I'm bewitched, no doubt. My fingers clench.

If I'm bewitched then it's not as the monks think.

I cannot hold back my rage towards them any longer.

"All of you still believe she's Meiko, don't you?" I nearly shout, storming around the woven mats; Saki is tall enough to stare over them at me.

I know I won't get an answer through their gags. Hate, anger, suspicion, and more glare at me from every monk that's not wallowing in pain after a beating.

I draw my sword, seeing many of those once self-righteous eyes flinch. "I must be possessed," I sneer at them, "and the master of the mountain conspires with the oni! That's what you're telling yourselves to save your pride. That you couldn't have insulted the master of the mountain by capturing her sister who wants to save Meiko from the oni. No, you are certain you have the right kitsune because to you, they're all fox demons!"

"You waste breath," Saki says, rolling her head side to side and sounding stronger already. Her chin could rest on the rafters if she tried, I notice.

"Do I?" I ask, slightly winded as my eyes flick over each monk.

Ichiro, the man whose teeth I broke, and someone else haven't moved. The others stare in calm observance, even one of the men I stabbed. Genji has been watching me since the madness of the spell being chased off, his gaze trying to understand what he's seeing unlike the rest.

"You stole away the master of the mountain's most trusted sister, mistaking her for the twin she wants to save. And all of this could have been avoided if you let me see who you had," I tell Genji, but my words don't sway him. I never expected them to. "I could walk out of this village with my blade against your neck, and deliver you to the master of the mountain to answer for what you've done."

He seems to believe his fellow monks would never allow such a thing.

The wincing fear and sharpening hate of every other man tells me otherwise, confirming what I already knew from how hard they fought me. They were too concerned for their master to fight sensibly. If a single monk had run for help, that would've been it for me unless the sarugami stepped in. Had they all rushed me together, even if I started cutting and stabbing, they would have overwhelmed me. But none of these monks could leave their master vulnerable nor abandon their companions to do the wise thing.

I can respect that. Even if they were foolish, they weren't cowards. I have no doubt they will never make the same mistake against me again.

"But I've wanted no quarrel, Genji." I snap my sword back into its scabbard. "Stay here and await a new message from the master of the mountain. Fighters like you should remain here and keep watch for any allies of the oni coming or going."

Genji’s brow furrows, as if I'm raving madly at him.

"The oni is still our foe, even if we are not friends. However," I stare down at him, "spoil my hunt for the oni again or try for vengeance, and you will be my enemies."

"Our enemies," Saki corrects.

I try not to smile wickedly as I turn from the monks. After how trying a day it's been, I've missed her voice and presence dearly.

I walk halfway around the mats to see her fully and ask, "Can you walk?"

"Soon," Saki replies, bending to touch her toes.

Limber as she is, it still takes her a moment to fold in half. The spell must have done more to weaken her than she'll admit.

"Then unless you monks want to shame yourselves by letting a woman walk into the night with only a blanket," I say, going to the hearth and feeding more wood into weakened flames, "what did you do with her belongings?"

His eyes closing, a sigh leaves Genji. He gestures his head towards the rafters, so I step forward and yank the gag down. He doesn't know it, but I'll bash the back of his head into the pole if he tries to tangle me up in his words.

"Folded in the bedding," he says, while one of his disciples starts struggling angrily.

The old monk turns to say something to the younger monk, but I gag him and walk away. Their problems don't interest me when any moment someone patrolling could come this way.

Interestingly, Genji didn't lie. Not entirely.

I don't find Saki's sword or spear, but there are weapons. A few knives, those daggers connected by a rope, and long iron needles she recently showed me are among her hastily folded clothes.

I hang the bedding and a blanket up for more privacy. Only then does Saki start dressing. At her silent request, I help in rebinding her breasts, holding the cloth tight as she twists around. It must be miserable to bind them so tightly, though I understand the need with how large her bosom is.

Once she's sure of the fit, I hand Saki her clothes, then weapons. While she doesn't ask about the missing spear and sword, I have a question.

"How did they believe you were Meiko?" I quietly ask.

"I approached under a guise," she whispers. "One tripped before they saw me, and then they threw strings of wooden beads at me. The beads wrapped around my neck and wrists, then they loosed a binding spell upon me."

So Genji hadn't been entirely lying to me.

"And they believed Meiko had all these weapons?"

"No living monk has seen her." Then, after she disappears a knife into the sash she cinches around her waist, she adds, "But they have always suspected us of lying about her. They think all of us aid the oni."

I hand her sharp iron needles, which she flourishes away into her tails, and then pull out her mask I've kept safe.

"How did they not find this? And where are your other weapons?"

"I had it in my hand, and threw it trying to get the beads off," she says, a hint of annoyance at herself breaking through. "I believed they wouldn't break my guise, so I stashed my sword and spear. I guessed wrong."

"And they don't believe that any one kitsune is Akaiyari," I guess, remembering what I've heard from the monks so far.

Saki nods, both of us no doubt wondering how we could've avoided all of this.

I hand her the mask. She accepts it with a small bow that practically says she knows I have more questions, but also that we shouldn't linger much longer. She ties the half mask over her eyes, settling it on her snout and hiding the white markings identical to Meiko's.

It won't help with the monks now, but maybe her mask is magical. Or some simple comfort like the silver pendant I touch.

I worry she'll need a hand to stay steady as she starts to walk, but Saki manages. She goes about in a small circle first, seeming more sure footed by the moment. Satisfied with herself, the eight-tail nods at me then goes around the blanket divider. She collects a staff I left leaning on a wall, my legs aching more from just looking at the weapon.

The monks are fortunate I had a sword on me instead of an axe, otherwise they'd be dead and dying after all the beatings my calves have taken.

"What's out there?" she asks me, nodding to the door.

I tell her about the village and quickly explain what's happened. I save mention of the man-eater I spoke to and what happened in her home for later. Escape comes first.

Saki taps her 'borrowed' staff against the ground. "Do you trust the sarugami?"

"No. But I had to try something to get here. If the sarugami haven't betrayed me, the rest of the monks should think I'm patrolling."

"Do we meet with them?"

"I don't want to risk it," I murmur. "Run and hope we can lose them. Or at least get across the river."

"We stay together," she decides, "see what we can do."

"Having no plan is one way to avoid the plan going wrong," I utter to myself.

I pop the charm Rin gave me off of my pendant and toss it into the hearth.

A red smoke, the same color as the painted torii arches, rises towards the roof as Saki and I steal out into the night, needing to say nothing more that the monks might overhear.

---

Saki leads our way through the dark, a tail wrapped around my shield arm as we cut through the empty fields. She's got the staff wrapped in a blanket to keep the bronze from shining in the moonlight and holds it like she's done this before.

She probably has.

A glamour might be over us as we sneak toward the river, staying far from any of the obvious watches lingering about. It's too cold for constant patrols so the monks have put themselves on both sides of the bridge, by the fire pit I told my tale at, and far off by one of the burned down huts.

We stop by a mound of stones a dozen strides from the water's edge.

"Sarugami don't need fires," Saki whispers into my ear.

I hate to ask it, since I don't believe it to be wise, but I have to suggest it. "Should I find one of them?"

"No," she decides swiftly. "Let them prove their loyalty."

"Alright." I glance about. "It seems no one heard that spell break or whatever got freed, else we'd have seen them coming to the hut."

A hand rests on my shoulder, many tails suddenly curling against me. Saki whispers, "What was it you saw?"

She must have wanted to wait until we were away from the monks to ask. I describe, as best I can, the dark shape.

Her eyes hidden, I cannot guess at Saki's thoughts. She contemplates for several long moments before speaking against my ear. "That wasn't a kitsune."

"Should we be worried?"

"Not if you stay by me," Saki replies, gazing off at the bridge. "Two thin tails. It could have been a nekomata. It won't thank you. But it should avoid you."

"The monks mentioned nekomata." Ichiro's hate for them I even understand. "How dangerous are they?"

"Less than a kitsune."

I want to ask more, but Saki puts a finger against my lips. Her tails curl around us both and we sink closer to the ground, as a light starts bobbing away from the distant bridge and toward us. Whatever she's done, the burrow made of her tails must be unnoticed by the monks. Gaps she makes in the fluffy shelter let us both see through.

"Wait for him to pass," she whispers.

"Fight our way out after?"

"Watch, for now."

The lantern's light shifts with sure steps. After a hundred heart beats it's clear that the monk holding it is on the path toward the hut they kept Saki in. When the man is only half a dozen strides from us, her hand guides mine towards my sword. She then points at me followed by where I'm standing, suggesting I stay where I am. She points at the bridge, making a slight chop as she does.

I hope she can read my lips in this little light. I mouth a question about if I should go to the bridge when she strikes.

She nods. I return the gesture, but not before putting a kiss upon her lips for good fortune.

Where Rin would be a blushing mess from that, Saki retaliates with her own kiss that promises much more once we're safe.

Then all at once, her tails vanish and she's gone into a silent sprint.

With only the moon, stars, distant fires and lamps, I lose sight of the kitsune. There's only the light of the monk ambling along in patrol.

At least until her shadow suddenly descends upon the lone monk, blanket wrapped staff striking the lantern from his grasp. He can't even scream before I hear the soft thump of his body hitting dirt and the lantern breaking on the ground nearby, fire spreading quickly.

The dark shape of Saki lingers menacingly in the light before heading up the hill with cunning swiftness, yet much slower than I know she can move. Chasing a fox on a hunt is folly for fools.

What a sight for those watching, sharp whistles and shouts rising at the bridge right away. All the lights on this side run off, while half leave the other side of the bridge. Whistles return from the group of huts, more monks sure to be scurrying off to help the man left sprawled a few strides from the oil fire of his lantern.

I'm not as silent as Saki even during the day, so I don't run. I stay away from the water and as low as I can, listening as a call rises up through the village, and move in a straight path.

Lanterns come near and I breathe into my sleeve, hand on my sword. The lights pass by as they shout a name, calling to see if he's okay.

Was I the only one to see Saki strike?

I almost sneer but keep my heart cold. The bridge is near and there are armed men I'll need to deal with.

So why not mix truth and lies?

When I hear muttered concerns swapping between two monks guarding the bridge, I speak up, "Hold, hold, I'm a friend!"

The monks snap towards me, jangling staves ready. I step into the light, wiping my sore chin, hiding my neck, and holding my other hand up to prove it's empty.

"The traveler?" a familiar broad shouldered monk asks in raw surprise that swiftly turns to suspicion. "Where is master Genji? What are you doing here?"

"We were attacked," I hiss, trudging to the bridge. They let me get near but are wary as I lean on the railing and bow my head as if to catch my breath. That or they're worried about me falling after seeing the broken section midway down. "Something shadowy struck us," I explain, holding up a hand to keep them back. "I managed to drive it out of the hut, but Genji and the rest are hurt."

"Was it the kitsune?"

"No," I shake my head. "It was dark, had two thin tails. I heard someone call it a nekomata."

Angry recognition, swirling with fear I've felt many times, drags the broad shouldered monk closer. "What did you say?"

"Nekomata," I tell him. "Pointed ears, two tails, walking upon two legs. It snuffed the fires. I couldn't get much of a look and nearly lost my head when it started swinging a stolen club."

A prayer leaves the monk's mouth, thoughtless as breathing. I notice he has scars on his neck that could only come from large claws. He gathers himself quickly. "They are known to eat people and start fires," he says, tapping his neck. "I nearly died to one recently - something you must know well."

I'd thought he'd be more suspicious of me after we nearly fought. What a shame I'd never met this man when I visited their temple. We might have been friends, but this night will ensure that shall never be.

"It didn't try any fire," I say. "I didn't smell any man-eater, but it wasn't there for long." The spell might have kept me from smelling that as well. "I don't know where it came from, it could still be around."

The claw scarred monk acts as if he knows exactly where it came from. "How badly is everyone hurt?"

"Someone lost a few teeth, and Ichiro is..." I wince, almost regretting what happened to him. "He'll live, but might not be a full man anymore."

Rage and anguish actually start calming the scarred monk unlike the other monk with him, a noticeably younger man pale with terror.

"What about master Genji?" the younger one asks.

"He's the least hurt, after me, and watching over the rest." I spit to the side since I must already seem a savage. "Seems I'm meant to be a messenger even now."

A hate that can scarcely stay restrained boils under the claw scarred monk's cold expression. "Stay here, messenger of the foxes," he says, handing me his lantern. "Keep the bridge until I bring master Genji here."

"You're trusting me?"

"I'm trusting your hate for man-eaters," he says, motioning for the younger monk to follow him.

It's such a shame I have to trick this man. I can only hope Saki doesn't hit him too hard, or not at all.

"Shouldn't you tell the others?" I ask, glancing down the bridge.

The claw scarred monk makes four sharp whistles, which are returned from across the river. "They know I'm off, and you tell anyone who comes here about the nekomata," he says, before hurrying away with the other monk.

I hold the lantern for a moment, watching them run off. Then I pace as if trying to make up my mind. With nothing but words, I've cleared half the men watching the bridge. For the moment, instead of feeling victorious, I keep an eye upon the far off gathering of monks outside their occupied hut and over at the fallen man. I know I won't see Saki until she's within a few strides, if at all, so I try not to glance about searching for her.

When she doesn't appear after a few dozen heartbeats, I start across the bridge. I can clear the rest of it, one way or another.

I wave and shout, "You two! You need to know what's happening!"

Both monks turn, ringed staves clattering. I'm halfway to them when I feel, more than hear, someone run onto the bridge behind me.

The hair on my neck rankles and I hurry, not looking back, as I call out to the two monks, "There's a nekomata, and a man with scars on his neck ran off after it with another!"

The pair exchange a look, and at that moment the railing on the side of my shield arm cracks. A shadow steps on my shoulder and leaps over me, tails bundled up tight and their white tips all I see in the scant light. Saki glides silently towards the startled monks and suddenly snaps out in a pair of kicks that have her doing the splits. Both monks fall. She lands in a crouch, casting the blanket off her stolen staff and onto one monk while she swats a fallen lantern away.

I'm there, kicking the ribs of the monk swatting at the blanket on him. Saki's staff clatters against the staff of the other monk, who surprisingly clung to the weapon and is swinging from the ground. She whirls, sweeping his poorly held staff aside and dropping a paw onto his chest hard enough to knock the breath from him. I snatch his staff and swipe my boot across his jaw.

Neither of them try to get up after that.

The blanket starts to burn from a fallen lantern. I don't believe we want the bridge catching fire, even if it would slow the monks, and Saki must feel the same. She's faster than me, sweeping the flaming cloth away.

She grabs my arm and we run by the glow of blue flames on her tails held up high, and towards the hidden path up the mountain. There's shouting and whistling behind us as the village starts to understand what is happening.

We near the trees, and a monk with a lantern steps out with a sarugami behind him. "What is-"

He doubles over, falling hard and nearly puking from a staff Saki throws at his stomach. I slide the dagger I have out of its sheathe back in.

The sarugami, meanwhile, catches the lantern. Now he looks both of us over. Saki has that hand length knife, with a curved hook where a guard should be and a straight blade like normal, dangling from its silk rope. Before she decides the sarugami is an enemy, the monkey bows.

And pushes the coughing monk's face into the dirt. The sarugami, unbothered by our presence, waves for both of us to go on.

I consider attacking him, or at least making it seem like I did.

But Saki grabs my arm and urges me to keep going. The sarugami will have to prove their claims of loyalty to Rin, then.

The blue flames on her tails light our path as we hurry along. The torii at the beginning of the stone steps is soon in sight, but the sound of pursuers calling out carries on the wind. Passing beneath the red painted arch, Saki stops me at the first step up. The floating fire at the tips of her tails drifts away, splitting and growing brighter.

Instantly, eight burning wisps bob up the stairs, chasing a shadow that looks a lot like Saki. Light and dark wait on the steps above.

"Let them give chase," she says, guessing at my thoughts.

"What if Rin is coming down?"

"Then she'll have them kill each other," Saki mutters. "Come, quickly. She knows where we'll hide."

Saki hooks her arm through mine, curls her tails against my back, and urges me into the forest. She guides me through each step as if she's gone this way a thousand times through the dried brush, slippery stones, and exposed roots. We hardly rustle a leaf, no doubt one of her tricks.

I can only hope the monks fall for the lights lingering somewhere behind us.

---

Three tails rest against me, the soft touch reminding me of all the aches I've collected these last few days. Whenever I stop, I know I won't be moving for a while. I hope Saki knows that as well.

Ringed staves rattle. The stomp of many feet rustles, running along with a dim glow I see past winter bare trees. Lanterns, at least five of them, but none off the path. If the sarugami betray Rin, there will be, and soon.

I can see the hazy blue of Saki's wisps even from fifty strides away, taunting the pursuers. The angry monk lanterns falter, no doubt catching sight of the mystical fire. Shouting fills the night. Wisps flee up the steps, bronze rings rattling as they give chase.

But not all the lights follow, half linger near the torii in a loud discussion.

Saki pulls me behind a large tree trunk, the faint impression of her in the dark strained and focused on something far away. My back is to the tree she presses me into, tails curling protectively to hide us.

I can feel her breath counting, almost wordlessly.

Whatever the monks were talking about stops.

Saki counts to a hundred or more, then lets out a silent lungful. "They're not going into the woods."

"Yet," I whisper. "At dawn they should."

"We won't be found," she says right next to my ear, her whiskers tickling against me. "There's a hidden shelter nearby. Can you make it?"

"How far?"

"Four incense sticks of walking."

I need to learn how long one incense stick is, but I have a rough idea. My legs should hold, even through the pain and aches, but I have to ask, "No running?"

"No."

"Then I'll make it."

Saki nods, only the faint outline of her mask showing the gesture. But she doesn't hurry away, and I hear why.

A monk shouts, voices calling back. At least one man has come back down the mountain steps, and it sounds like more have arrived from the village. They've abandoned all their watches, haven't they?

Saki puts fingers against my lips, then takes my arm and rests her tails against me. Her sneaky ways start us on a slow walk, away from the path and only slightly angled up the mountain slope. But it's away from the village. I've never gone this way, though I did approach the village by going upriver, the rough direction we go in.

Less than a hundred steps into our retreat, a narrow stone gives out beneath my boot. I fall into an ankle deep hole. I keep myself from making a sound, but I twist something and my knees give up on holding me upright.

An arm loops under mine and a hand catches my belt, Saki's sturdy leg sliding in to brace me before I collapse. Where another man might feel shame at being helped like this, relief is all that shivers across my back.

I'm not alone. I would have given up and dragged myself to a hollow to wait for dawn if I was.

Saki helps me stand straight and, with clever footwork and a heart that's starting to understand mine, she gets me into an embrace from the front.

Strong arms and legs offer all the support she can give, demanding I take a moment to just be still with her. Hands and tails cover my back, as if promising me the cold won't last. My sore arms rest against her back and I let her scent fill my nose and head. This is for more than comforting me and weight off a twisted ankle. She doesn't want to feel alone either.

"I can walk," I whisper after a few too many heartbeats.

"Lean on me," she replies, slipping from the comforting embrace to my side. Then, her hidden eyes no doubt believing I'm about to argue, she adds, "The footing gets rougher."

I make myself nod and then entrust a bit of my tired weight to her side. She's strong enough to withstand it and more.

Walking in the dark, trusting in her steps, I focus on my ears in place of sight. Bare branches waver in breezes. My boots scuff over roots, guided by Saki's paws. The pain in my bruised shins and now twisted ankle worsens with each breath I take.

I'm too stubborn and she's too focused for either of us to stop.

Up a rise we go. We walk around fallen trees, across a rocky mountain stream dry from a lack of rain, squeeze between stones taller than either of us, and trudge ever onward. I only have a vague sense of how long of a time an incense stick is, but I can tell from the shift of the moon through the trees above it has been longer than four. But she did say that before I slowed us down.

Somehow her tails and shadow muffle any disturbance of dried brush and rotting leaves. We're far from the village by now, even on this winding path, and nowhere near the stone steps going to her home.

Even so, I whisper. "Will that charm Rin gave me to burn do anything at night?"

"Yes," Saki says, sounding a little tired, "she'll sense it."

"Can the monks stop the magic?"

"That won't help them." Her arm across my shoulders, she helps me over a rise. "She knew the moment you burned it."

"And the smoke?"

"Will mark the hut."

"Not if they burn it down."

Saki thinks before speaking again. "Would they?"

"Their leader, Genji, might," I tell her. "I nearly killed him for tricking me."

"Why spare him?" she asks.

"That time, because I didn't know who he had. If it really had been Meiko..." I shake my head. "I would've needed a good hostage to get myself and her out."

"What about when we left?" she asks. "Why spare him then?"

"Letting him live might've been a mistake," I admit. "He's sly. But his disciples would've been out for blood if I killed him. And we might have a use for the monks, or Rin will call me a fool."

A contemplative sound comes out of Saki. I know we'll discuss this more whenever we get back to Rin. Hopefully after I've soaked my aches in their baths and gotten some sleep.

The hidden trail continues on, one uneven step after another. Fluffy tails keep the worst of the night's cold away, and her presence lets me chase off doubts that try to needle me in the dark. The weariness of the day is catching up to me along with all my new bruises, and I get the feeling she's pushing through fatigue as well.

We can't be too far away, I think.

Right as something rustles nearby and my heart pounds into my throat.

Saki's dagger on a rope drops into her hand and I've got a dagger off my belt without thinking. She breaks from me, I lean on a tree, and we both listen.

It rustles closer.

In a thin patch of moonlight, the glint of eyes scampers past. Too low to be a person or even a kappa. Palm on my sword, dagger grip switching for a throw, I wait.

The shape shuffles through leaves four or five strides away. I hear the faint breath Saki lets out. Her hand rests on my shoulder, mask close enough I can see her nod. The fingerspan of sword I'd drawn slips back in, and I carefully sheathe my dagger in the dark. Whiskers near my ear, her whisper is fainter than the moon.

"A hare."

"So late?" I mutter, remembering they hide at night in this land.

"Fleeing but not chased. It came from the direction of the path," she whispers, silently coming around in front of me to lean on the tree.

And block the faint breeze with her tails. We're downwind of the path, then. That's helpful.

"Is it safe to leave the path before the oni's cage?" I ask, since we're obviously taking a moment to rest.

"Yes." Saki nods. "The forest edges are all the same. Even the monks will notice the change."

Those gnarled tree branches and the dead appearance, she must mean.

"Can we get to your home this way?"

"No," she mutters. "We must go up the path."

For a moment I wonder if they've told me before and I forgot, or if it's those faerie stones. This day and night have been too troublesome.

When I've got my breath back and let my sore ankle rest long enough, I assume she can see my nod. I push myself off the tree and say, "I can walk on my own for a while."

"We're almost there," Saki whispers, the kitsune nothing more than a shadow among shadows as she returns to my side. "Lean on me. Save your strength."

"Is there more climbing?"

"No. Only more rocks to pass between."

That doesn't sound so bad. I almost argue, but shifting weight on my ankle reminds me not to be so uselessly stubborn. We're in this together. I reach out for where Saki is, feeling soft fur and hearing the faint rustle across my clothes. Soon we'll be somewhere we can rest, I can sleep, and hopefully we'll have water.

The shriek of a dying hare pierces the night, sending every hair on my body upright and frizzing her tail.

Saki's head whips toward the noise. It came from the same direction the little creature hurried off to, not thirty paces away. As if terrified of what's out there, the wind dies a few heartbeats after the shriek.

"Your sword," Saki utters with icy steel.

I start a quiet draw, my palm having never left the cold pommel, when vile sounds reach my ears.

Bones crunch, raw flesh wetly rips, and skin pops as it's pulled to breaking. Above us, in the trees. Ravenous fangs splinter bones and drip blood as something chews a fresh kill, branches swaying and creaking as it bounces from tree to tree.