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Saki and I scarcely rest. I don't know her reason, but the few times I drift asleep I jerk awake in terror moments later. She's merciful enough to not ask why. Morning arrives after far too long, and when it does we get ourselves cleaned up and stretch our legs. The man-thing survived the cold night on the rocks, confirming that it is no longer a person, if it ever was.

Saki and I count the kappa corpses. Eighteen mostly clean kills where she fought, seven savaged corpses where I'd been. "One is missing," I say.

"Are you certain?"

"I've always been good at counting enemies," I explain. "It's saved me a lot of trouble."

She considers the knowledge of a missing kappa for a moment. "Nothing we can do but watch the waters," says, going to the man-thing.

She motions for me to help. After a brief discussion on the best way to carry it, we decide to hang it by its bound limbs from the spear. Saki cuts her sash lengthwise with my knife to add more restraints. I donate a scrap of my shredded clothes to wrap the blade of the spear. Then we hoist it up and set off, moving slowly back to the village. The trail stretches on for an eternity, but we endure it, together.

I spend more time watching the water than I do the path. Only our gradual, deliberate pace keeps me from tripping. I'm always expecting an attack from more kappa, but nothing happens. Doubting that I'll ever trust rivers again after this, I carry in silence. We break often, for my sake more than hers. When we finally get in sight of the village, the sun is high in the sky.

The burned down huts don't smoke anymore. Smoke rises from one of the intact huts, thin and gentle, surely from a hearth. We go there, our captive making more muffled snarls than he had on the trip back. If I weren't in the lead, I'd hit him. Then again, that's probably why Saki put me in the lead, to keep me from lashing out at it. She's lucky I respect her enough to trust my back to her and a man-eater at the same time.

As we amble to the hut, Saki calls out. "Hibiki, Kumiko!"

The door moves aside, a fox face poking out. It darts back in, then two kitsune emerge, a five-tail and a six-tail, both dressed in black like Saki, albeit without half-masks. And after them comes a woman in a white dress, with shadows of tails lurking behind her. I swallow reflexively, recognizing Rin despite the glamour hiding her true self. It's the same as when I came to the village with her before, black hair and deceptive features.

The man-eater thrashes even more, but it can't do anything against the bindings. And I'm not about to turn around and hit it when I've made it this far without giving into my hate. Even if it's very tempting with all of the grunting and snarls it makes.

"Eldest sister," Saki says, something like surprise in her voice. She realizes her mistake, head dipping. "I am sorry, my tongue got ahead of me. I did not think you would come."

"Seeing your talisman and elder Gorou's burning caused me worry about the village," the disguised kitsune says, reminding me of the old man and his wife who hosted us in the autumn. "What has happened?"

I leave that question to Saki. The eight-tail's ears lower as she says, "More than I can quickly explain."

"Tell me as simply as you can," Rin instructs.

"The villagers were taken by kappa," Saki explains. "Egil and I dealt with their nest, but the villagers had died before we even got down the mountain."

Tails go listless and ears droop in the other two kitsune in black. Rin, be it her glamour or the front she must put up, doesn't react beyond a sad nod. "And this quarry you carry?"

"A man-eater," Saki explains. "Who I hope will answer our questions."

Rin acknowledges with a faint nod, then raises two fingers. The two kitsune in black, Hibiki and Kumiko I presume, come and take the burden from Saki and I. Only the man-thing goes wild, making it impossible to hand over safely. The wretch jerks and twists so violently it takes Saki and I gripping the spear with both hands to keep it from flying out of our grasps. Chewing at his gag and choking out snarls, the man-eater's eyes snap between Rin and myself. I think about kicking it, but before I can decide the five-tail lunges in and loops an arm around his neck. The six-tail grabs it by the chest to support more of its weight. Saki and I grab at the man-thing's restrained limbs, three of us holding it up while the five-tail kitsune chokes it out. Patchy, slimy skin ripples with fading strength, the man-thing sputtering as its eyes roll back.

Once they're certain it's out, five- and six-tail take the ends of the spear, finally relieving Saki and I from the creature. The two kitsune take it several steps away, wary of getting too close to the beastly excuse for a man.

With the burden off her shoulder, Saki goes and bows to her older sister. When I look away from the man-thing, I see Rin not as a woman but as she is, a tall, fox headed kitsune. I strain to notice her white hair, but once I do, it's obvious. As if I had seen it all along, shocking and familiar at the same time. An unsettling sensation, made worse when she ignores me, her blue orbs drifting away from me to focus on her eight-tail sister.

"Eldest sister," Saki says from her bow, "there is much to tell you."

"Come inside and rest, little sister," Rin says, folding her hands in front of her. "We will learn the mystery of what happened in time."

While I wonder if Rin is still playing that biting word game with me, Saki speaks up. "Egil should join us," she says, surprising me and the nine-tail.

At least I think Rin is surprised, as her tails start to shift behind her. She doesn't look at me though, instead faintly bowing to release Saki from her polite position. "Then both of you come inside. There is food to be had and wounds to tend to before we can speak."

One of the kitsune, till holding the pole the limp man-thing hans from, speaks up. "What should we do with this?"

"Tie it up some more," I suggest, leaving out my other suggestion involving heavy rocks and its skull.

"I agree," Saki scowls, moving one of her tails into view. I can see the patches the man-eater took out of her fur, but at least she doesn't have any bald spots. "It had a goal we can't let it reach."

Rin shows the first hint of emotion I've seen, a twitch at her mouth that she suppresses. "One of you stand guard. Cut off its legs if it tries to escape," she orders.

I'm glad they're taking this seriously, at least. Even if there's something going on that I don't know anything about and they certainly do. More secrets, as I've come to expect from this mountain and the kitsune, but that's fine. As long as they understand the threat.

---

A warm hearth and fire greet us. A simple stew cooking by the hearth spreads a mouth-watering scent and the furs lining the ground look comfortable enough to sit on, but it's not very welcoming. Not when I know the owners of this hut are dead, or worse.

Rin silently commands Saki and I both to sit by the hearth, then leaves without a word. I risk a questioning look at eight-tail, but she's too busy adjusting her clothes to notice or acknowledge it. When she takes her sash off, I swiftly turn around, only to realize she's doing it to check her wounds. We were both so wary of another attack after the kappa that we only gave ourselves a quick look over and simple cleaning with what water we could warm. Looking down at my hands, I see dried blood everywhere despite rubbing off what I could. How much of it is my own blood and how much is various kappa's, I can't know. I don't want to.

With my back to Saki, I pull down my own clothes, glad that I can move my arm after so long in a sling, even if it's still weak. After the strain I put on it in the fight, bending my elbow aches and I can't grip anything without my entire arm starting to shake. I barely noticed until now, but that's how it's always been for me. Wounds and exhaustion don't truly catch up to me until I stop and see them.

My bare chest and back exposed, I swallow at a lump in my throat. The shaking terror wants to start back up. I squeeze my fists until only my shield arm quivers, looking over myself for any wounds. Scratches run all along my sword arm, but they're shallow. Welts and bruises from rocks lump my shoulders and chest, especially on my shield arm, but since I don't naturally favor it the pain is bearable. Some bruises on my chest and stomach, along with angry red lines and scabbed scratches. Rubbing my throat, I don't come away with any pain or flaked blood. I got off lucky. If it weren't for two full layers of thick clothes and how short kappa claws are, I'd have been badly bloodied. Rubbing a hand through my hair, I wince, coming away with some dark, dried flakes of blood. If I get into another fight, I need to have a helmet, or a hat at the least.

The door to the hut moves in, bringing a breeze of cold. From the corner of my eyes, I see Rin and one of the other kitsune haul in supplies. Pots, blankets, and who knows what else. I don't pay much attention, wiggling my toes in my boots and glad that I can still feel each of them as they warm by the fire.

"Stay by the fire," Rin commands, and I look over to see Saki easing back down, her expression thoroughly chastised. Only I have to quickly look away, Saki's top pulled down to reveal the bindings on her chest. I think I saw flecks of blood in her fur. Those dark clothes did well to hide any wounds.

The five-tail, whose name I don't know, sets pots of water by the fire, brings over a few clay jugs, then sits down to start tearing cloth into rags. The villagers won't be needing their supplies now, but it still leaves a bitter, sick taste in the back of my throat. I don't get to complain, as soon warm rags are handed over to Saki and myself, or I assume they're handed to her since I make a point not to look back at her. She's a dangerous warrior and magical fox, but she's still a woman that deserves some privacy as she washes.

When the worst of it is scrubbed away, instead of being allowed to put my clothes back on, Rin sneaks behind me and places a blanket on me. I only know it's her when I see her walking away. There are more important things than the complications between us, so I pull the blanket close and turn around. Saki is in much the same state as me, a blanket swathed around her shoulders and chest as she leans toward the fire.

Food is handed out by the five-tail. I eat what is handed to me, drink when water is passed to me. There's taste. I can smell it, the millet and meat in the stew, but my tongue only knows it's warm. Once I'm alone I'll let myself fall apart, and then I might remember the taste of what I ate, but for now I force myself to keep it together. To balance on a line between numbness, rage, and pathetic weakness.

"Tell me everything that happened," Rin says, settling down across the hearth from me. The question isn't directed at me so I ignore it, for now.

Saki, perking up, can't ignore it. "Yes, eldest sister."

The eight-tail recounts, at great length, the events from the time she and I started down the mountain, leaving out how she found me. Instead, she says that we were of similar minds to see what was going on and that I couldn't be turned away. Curious as it is she's keeping that secret, I find myself only half-listening as I gaze at the embers in the fire. When Saki gets to the part where we searched the village, I do notice she leaves out my near hysterics, and mentions that she saw kappa tracks. Lots of kappa tracks. The signs of an attack in the early morning or night, how some villagers struggled. And the bloody remains I found, the thought of those gnawed on bones stuffed away in a basket enough to make my stomach lurch.

"We saw that," Rin says, voice polite yet undeniably sad. "I performed what rites I could. I will see to a proper ceremony for all of the villagers, once we know it is safe."

I grip my knees, glad to know those people will be treated with dignity after such a terrible end. Even as I grind my fingers against my own bone and flesh in frustration at how I was too late.

"The families would be honored to know you would go to such lengths," Saki says.

"I will do more than see they're given proper burials," Rin swears. "What else happened, little sister?"

"We went to the kappa for answers and they attacked us," Saki explains, leaving out far more than I expected. "Egil noticed they were moving to surround us. We fought back. I killed many only to be pinned down by more throwing rocks, and their leader, a suiko, taking my spear." So that big kappa wasn't ordinary after all. "It is my belief," Saki continues, "This was planned. They wanted to attack me, far from help."

Rin tilts her head one way, then the other, her mouth still. "How do you know this? Because of the strange man-eater you captured?"

"Yes. It jumped on my back." Saki glances at me, then looks to Rin.

The nine-tail's blue orbs don't move from her sister, firmly ignoring me. "Speak freely of any secrets, Saki. I know you want his help with Meiko and will tell him eventually."

Saki's tails tremble, the dangerous kitsune actually shaken by her older sister's words. "The one we captured, he tore at my tails," she explains. "He was searching for my hoshinotama, if I had to guess."

That word, or phrase perhaps, doesn't make sense to me right away. I try to piece the words together, thoughts and memory sluggish. It will come to me eventually, or one of the kitsune will explain it, so I don't worry about it for now.

Rin and the five-tail, however, are deathly still. The five-tail's face is drawn tight, while Rin looks to be a poised, polite statue. Saki dips her head, as if in apology. I know better than to get caught staring so I keep my eyes on the embers, where the word that caused this reaction finally puts itself together in my mind. Star ball? Something about that seems familiar.

"You did good capturing it alive," Rin says. "This is far worse than we thought."

"Should we really speak of this?" asks the five-tail, casting a suspicious glance toward me.

Rin finally moves, her hands folding in her lap. "Egil would have learned from Saki, as she has plans to use his help to rescue Meiko."

My eye twitches, the tone of Rin's voice making it sound like Saki had everything to do with it. As if Rin hadn't gotten my promise first. I start to open my mouth, but stop myself. I'm aware enough to know I'm still in after battle shock. Anything I say now, I'll regret. Possibly worse than the last few times I've spoken to Rin. So I keep my mouth shut and head down.

"You are right, eldest sister. I do plan to use Egil's help." She bows, prostrating her head against the floor. "But I swore to myself I would leave our secrets to you and I have. I had planned to use him to kill Kenta without telling him about the star ball."

"Perhaps," Rin says, voice polite and pointed, "we should ask Egil his thoughts on this secret."

There's more going on than I can even hope to understand right now. Tired and at the edge of losing myself, I speak frankly. "I'm exhausted. I ache. I nearly had my throat ripped out by a kappa. But if I saved one of you and your family from something terrible, that's good enough for me." All eyes are on me, unsure of what to make of me. I shake my head, all the aches settling in. "If you want to tell me you'll tell, until then it doesn't matter."

The only sound for many heartbeats is the crackle of the fire. They can believe or doubt me, I don't care. This star ball, while obviously important, is their problem. I'm wise enough to stay away from some knowledge, sometimes. Not that I honestly believe I won't learn.

Saki, still prostrating herself to her elder sister, is the first to break the contemplative silence. "I believe we can trust Egil."

"It is possible," Rin begins, "that he does not want to know any more secrets."

I'm in no mood or condition to play this kind of word game with Rin. "If this star ball is a treasure, I have no interest. If it's a weakness in your tails, I respect all of you too much to use it against you. I'd rather die sword in hand, face to face, than betray or backstab. So I'd never do anything of that sort to any of you."

My piece said, I stand up, pulling the blanket tightly over my shoulders like it's a cloak, my armor against the cold and my own weakness. Eyes watch me as I go toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Rin asks, so politely it could strip bark off a tree.

"To lay down," I explain. "I won't be of any use until I get some sleep." Looking back, spurred on by a confused and pained knot of anger, I add, "You know what I'm like after battle. It's not safe around me."

I shove the door out of the way, yanking back with too much force. I definitely said the wrong things. As I stomp toward the bridge, planning to rest in one of the huts far away from the river, I grind my teeth in anger. Not at Rin, but myself. Helping that fox will give me what I've always sought? Perhaps I read the runes wrong, those many, many days ago. If I seek anything it has to be an end of some kind. Why else would I keep putting myself into battles that aren't my own?

Making it to an empty hut, my motions are a numb haze. Anger, fear, and regret double me over, into blankets and furs left behind by the dead. Everything afterward is dark, agonizing, and shameful.

---

The next day in the village is one of work. I don't see Rin again, and I hardly see Saki. Kumiko, the five-tail, and Hibiki, the six-tail, go with their eight-tail sister in rotations to the kappa cave. They're retrieving the bodies of the villagers, four at a time and faster than I thought possible. One kitsune is left to guard the captured man-eater at all times, but with how the two kitsune play some sort of chance game with their hands, I get the feeling neither want to guard him.

More kitsune trickle down into the village throughout the day. Miki and Yuuko I recognize, but they keep their distance from me. Everyone does, as we all have our tasks.

The work that Saki gave me has all of my attention. Hauling wood and stacking pyres. Quiet work that needs to be done, and is all too easy when I can pull from stocked sheds and have an axe to shape the logs dragged in from the forest. Sometimes a kitsune will help me lay the larger logs or offer me food and warm water. I only offer my thanks, and my silent sympathy to the dead being brought back before I continue my grim work.

In the evening, my limbs heavy and slow, I look at the progress. Two large pyres have been built up, faster than I could manage on my own. I start toward the hut I've taken as my own, only to notice someone coming toward me. Miki dashes up and bows, presenting me with freshly sewn clothes in her outstretched hands. The two-tail's bow is so deep I wonder if she'll tip forward while offering the fresh clothes out. "These are for you," she says.

I'm too numb and tired to know how to feel or respond, so I take them from her furred hands. Then I stare down at what I wear. I had to tie strips of blankets over the worst holes, my chest no better than a bundle of rags. Blood still stains what I wear, the weather too cold for me to wash. "Thank you," I utter.

"If it's not thick enough," the two-tail says, retreating several steps and maintaining her bow, "Yuuko and I will sew you more. We're in that hut," she points, with one of her tails, to a building too close to the river for my liking.

I rub the new, makeshift clothes. They're thick enough for this cold. "You and your sisters have my thanks."

"If you need anything, please, ask any of us," she says, looking up with unfettered sympathy and care. She tries to give me a hopeful smile. There's not a hint of flirtation about her, or any of the kitsune I've dealt with since coming back from the cave, but I can only return a stiff nod. She leaves, ears and tails crestfallen.

I'm an outsider to the tragedy that befell this village, while the kitsune had ancestral ties if what Saki said is true. They had some kind of responsibility here. Whereas I'm merely a foreigner in this far off village, here to hunt a man-eater.

I go back to my hut, change into the new clothes, and lie to myself that it helps lessen my unease and weakness. It doesn't. But I want to act like it does.

I scarcely sleep that eve, waking from tormenting dreams or the slightest sound. I keep my sword near the furs I use as a bed and my knife on my belt, should the kappa that escaped us return. Or worse, the captive man-eater escapes. Eventually my torment ends when the cracks in the hut show hints of predawn light, allowing me to prepare for the day ahead.

More work finds me once I'm outside and prepared. I have to sharpen the borrowed axe often, the broad metal head holding a poor edge, yet it makes my task easier than using only a knife. There are notches to cut in the logs, so they stack properly. The kitsune aren't bad with crafting wood, but I spent the early part of my life woodworking during harsh winters. Any boy with the strength to lift an axe learned how to use it, and it's a skill that's served me well ever since. I can handle the work of two of the kitsune alone, freeing a few of them to the grim task of preparing the bodies.

Those I work with keep their distance, even during our meal breaks. By noon, Saki returns, the grim look on her half-masked face making sense when I see how small the wrapped bodies are. She doesn't go back out after taking those small ones behind a hut, instead coming toward me.

She, like myself, wears her sword. None of the kitsune are far from something that could be used a weapon, but the ones in black are the only ones who openly carry weapons aside from me. The way she walks, her steps slow and unwillingly, tell me this is a matter of danger. She lifts her half-mask, letting it rest on her forehead as she approaches. I put my axe down and move several steps away from the three-tail kitsune shaping the final batch of logs.

"Egil," Saki says, acknowledging me with a thin bow. "We must talk."

"About?"

"The kappa," she says, walking past me and motioning for me to follow. She doesn't say anything else until we're a good hundred paces from the nearest of her sisters and we're standing in the midst of a frozen field. She turns to me, crossing her hands in front of her and standing rigidly.

"It's not about the kappa," I guess, judging from our distance to the others and how she blocks my view of the village with her fanned out tails.

"It is," she says, reaching up to move her mask back so we can meet each other's eyes. I have to look up at her ever so faintly, something that is still unfamiliar to me after a lifetime of looking down to talk. "Yet there is more that needs to be said."

"Should I keep this talk a secret?" I ask, doing nothing to hide my suspicion.

"There is no reason to." She shifts on her feet, letting herself show some unease instead of glaring at me with cold, brown eyes. "We found more tracks, on the other side of the river. It looks as if some of the villagers were dragged into the forest, near the village. We lost the tracks after a few hundred steps, but we think those villagers are dead."

"Are you certain?"

"We found blood." She shifts again. "And bones picked at by a kappa's mouth."

The runes I cast after the battle spoke true. Two kitsune found a slaughter, and it was the missing villagers. "I should have gutted the one that recognized me before it ran," I spit. Anger burrows through the numbness that's surrounded me since I found work to do. "How recent are the tracks?"

"The tracks are from the same day we came down," she says. Then her eyes narrow. "Was this kappa that ran the same as the one that set your arm?"

"Yes."

Looking thoughtful, Saki glances toward the river for a moment. "Do you know if it was a man-eater?"

"The kappa that attacked me were. But does it matter? One of those things is a terror to simple folk."

"You can't stop every beast or enemy," she points out, eyes hardening. "Some get away, no matter how hard you fight. If we find it, good. If we don't, we can't torment ourselves."

It ran before I could even fight it, but I despise how wise she sounds. "I'll kill it if I see it," I scowl.

"Don't fight in the water again." My scowl deepens, and she changes the subject with a wave. "There is something else you should know. A problem with the man-eater we caught." She shifts her weight, as if uneasy, but doesn't say more.

"And?" I ask.

"I can't let you kill it."

Her hand darts toward her sword, my stance lowering. Then I realize my hand is on my own weapon, and while she's got her hand on hers, I've got the blade halfway out. Breathing in deeply, the thunder in my veins spurred on by a maelstrom within me, I slide the steel back into its sheath. "Why," I demand.

"Its answers are horrible," she says. "More than that I cannot tell you. Rin forbade me."

My fingers curl in rage, but I keep them off of my weapons this time. "Can you promise it won't escape?"

"I cannot," she admits, holding up a hand to plead for more time before I storm off to find someone who can give me answers. "But I believe my sisters can keep it from escaping. This one is weaker than the oni we've trapped. Sealing away this new man-eater should be easier than Kenta, and there is even talk of purifying this one."

I want to storm the building it's trapped in and cleave open its neck. But beneath my rage, I still have tempered wit. I can still control myself, the work and exhaustion dulling my body enough to keep me from losing myself in a frenzy. "Will it threaten anyone again?"

"It won't." She taps her sword hilt. "That I can promise."

I try to stare past her, my teeth grinding at the thought of the man-eater staying alive. But I know Saki is being sincere. "I'll trust you, Saki. We shed blood together." I scowl, knowing it's the right decision but hating it. "But I swear," I point in the direction of the village, "if I see it again, I will end it."

Saki nods, profound understanding in her firm stare. "If that should happen, you will have me on your side."

"If that's all you wanted to say, then can I return to work? I need to busy myself or else I might be dangerous."

She stares at me, sizing me up. It irritates me how long she stays silent. I keep a firm grip on my anger, and am rewarded with a nod from the kitsune. "Yes. We all have much to do." Her tails lower, and she reaches for her mask. Only to stop, and look down at me seriously. "If you need anything, come to me. I am second only to Rin in our family."

Her mask slips back down, her mouth hardening, but not before I catch something like embarrassment torturing the kitsune. That or my anger has me seeing things that aren't there. I don't know. I can't care either. Not when I have work to do, and an axe I can swing to burn away some of this rage tingling in my limbs.

---

The pyres are finished in the evening. More kitsune descend the mountain, and Rin emerges from a hut in elaborate, priestly clothes of red and white. There is no way she got those on by herself, yet she moves with absolute poise and grace despite her restricted steps.

I stand far away as the ceremony begins, watching from the other side of the river. Rin conducts rituals and prayers before the three identical pyres. Her sisters, ten of them, join her in observance. Then Rin stands and, with the magic fire at the tips of her tails, lights the pyres when the stars twinkle in the night sky. Flames spread quickly, either by magic or clever stacking of wood I don't know. I only moved materials and cut what was needed. The fires rise as bright beacons, reminding me of more ceremonies for the dead than I care to remember.

I wasn't a part of this village. But to those who managed to fight back, if the gods of this land won't accept them, I offer a silent prayer that maybe those of my land would. How confusing that would be to a peasant of this land, to be welcomed with open arms into halls of eternal feasting and battle. Where sworn enemies sit side by side and sing of each other's glory at night, everyone waiting for the final battle.

Then again, I sometimes hope my people are wrong. That we don't go to the hall of gods who want to use us for the final battle, if we're lucky, or end up in the cold realm of the dead if we die dishonorably. I've been through so many lands, heard of so many gods, I often wonder what is true. Or, if in some way, all gods and myths are true. I've seen the magic of many people. And now, as I watch blue flames dance on dozens of tails, I see yet more. But not in a way I ever wanted to.

Death is the same, no matter the land. I take back my prayer, in the hope that the people of this village find peace instead. Sitting at the door to a hut, I doubt I'll find any of that for myself. But they did nothing to deserve what happened to them.

Tall, orange flames dance through the night as the kitsune hold their vigil. The blue flames at the ends of their tails swish and dance as they mourn the village their mother left to them. I don't know how much it means to them, or their family's story, but that kind of history isn't easy to forget. The reverence they show in this ceremony tells me it's important, as if Saki's show of emotion wasn't enough to convince me.

I tap my sword, and for the first time in far too long, wonder about my own blood kin. They must think I'm dead. But are they still alive? Should I care, or is it okay that I don't miss them?

Too many heavy questions for my heart to bear. But I make myself watch until the blue fires of kitsune wink out one by one. Only when the last whirling blue orb fades out do I go inside to sleep, if I can. Since coming to this village I've been laying in furs and blankets and waiting for scattered dreams of horror and death to jerk me awake, only to repeat that until the sun brings light back to the world. Even so, I could use even that much rest, as I know those fires will be burning for at least a full day.

---

The next morning, I find myself right. The pyres still burn, kitsune adding wood and logs as needed. Bodies don't burn easily, after all. I avoid the sight as much as I can, keeping on the other side of the river and cooking my own meals. I don't feel right taking the food of dead villagers, but when I cast runes with a question if they would mind, the answer is clear.

They won't need it anymore.

Even so, I refuse to waste even a speck of grain. I know the people of this land believe in gratitude to your host and for your food. I treat the hut with all the respect I can, cleaning and tidying up after myself. I do the same for the two huts closest to the one I occupy. Not to honor them, but to give myself something to, I shamefully admit to myself. Yet I respect these homes as best I can. I patch a few holes and make sure wood is stocked inside. All to make the lonely day end faster, as I watch the pyres burn down and down. The smell is only of smoke now, but it doesn't help. That only reminds me of the three charred ruins that used to be homes.

Evening comes and I lay down, having spoken to or gotten near no one. Maybe my company would have been welcome. But I don't want to intrude on grief. I'm only a foreigner, after all.

---

I jerk awake, not from the dream of clawed hands on my throat, but someone knocking on wood. I dismiss my first thoughts about an attacker and reason it's one of the kitsune. Rolling to my feet, heel of my hand on my knife, I go fumble in the dark toward the door. Faint embers in the hearth don't give me enough light to see by, the hut so dark I can only guess about my surroundings. "Who is it?" I call out.

"Egil?" a voice slurs. "Egil, can we talk?"

I blindly follow the wall to the door, find the rope, and pull it aside. Blue light spills in, the kitsune outside not crouched down so I can't see who it is. She's one of the foxes wearing a white dress, meaning it's not Saki, Hibiki, or Kumiko. That leaves at least seven others, assuming no more came down the mountain that I didn't see.

"Who is it?" I ask again.

She crouches down, blue orbs meeting my gaze. The lump in my throat keeps me from saying anything else. Rin angles her mouth down to speak, and even through the scent of smoke clinging to her I smell rice wine on her breath. "Can I come in?"

If there weren't fresh tears matting the fur around her eyes, I would say no. Instead I step back, going to the hearth to stoke the fire. I get the flames leaping to life by the time the wine addled kitsune has fumbled the door back into place. The blue light of her flames winks out, leaving only the fire I feed to light the one-room hut. Shadows dance as she sits down, setting a jug of wine beside me.

"Grief and drink don't mix," I say, having seen far too many lives ruined by that combination.

"It wasn't my idea," she softly says.

I don't prod her, only add more sticks to the fire. I leave the sealed jug of wine where it sits. Whether it's a peace offering between us or a custom, she'll say something eventually.

After a time she speaks again, breath thick with wine. "Coming here was my idea."

"To this hut?" I ask, trying to keep my voice and shaky mood even. The nightmares have weighed heavily on me, and having anyone near me right now has me wanting to put a hand on a weapon.

"To the mountain. I told my mother about this mountain." She sniffs, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "But it was her idea to have farmers in the valley. I don' know how she knew them, but if I had to guess she slept with half the men." She wipes at her eyes again. "But tha' was a long time ago. An' I kept it in just as long."

I glance sidelong at her. "How many jugs of wine have you had?" I ask, suspecting she's deep enough not to be offended by the question.

"Four," she mutters, wobbling back and forth as she raises her fingers. "N-no." She adds another finger. "I forgot the fifth."

If she is this far gone, maybe she won't remember any of this in the morning. I settle myself in better, expecting this to be a long and terrible night of trying to avoid a fight with the drunk and grieving kitsune. If I am fortunate, one of her sisters will come looking for her, but most likely I will have to keep an eye on her to stop her from accidentally wandering into the river. Though even that is bound to be more peaceful than my attempts at rest.

"I don' know why I never told you," Rin mumbles, my question about her drinking no doubt forgotten. "That my mother founded this village."

"You're telling me now," I point out.

"I should have told you sooner. I wan'ed to tell you." Her clothes ruffle as she draws in on herself. If I see her shivering, I'll need to get a blanket, but for now it seems she's doing it for comfort. "But that's not why I'm here," she says. "I wan'ed to tell you somethin' else."

She sways, her ears twitching, and the frown on her mouth makes me mistrustful. When she notices me looking, Rin scoots away. "Tha' is why I'm here," she says, so suspiciously I don't know if she's trying to convince me or herself. "To tell you."

"You can tell me when you're ready," I say slowly. "The last few days have been hard for everyone. Things like this, they leave terrible wounds."

Her arms cross and she leans forward, bringing her eyes lower than mine for a change. The white haired kitsune grimaces at the fire. "This village, it was my mother's idea. A home far away from cities and soldiers and monks. Where we could live in harmony with peasants." The scowl returns to her lips. "An' for her, where she could play in her final years."

Rin grimaces, and I worry she's about to be sick. Then she shakes her head, slowly, and I see the grimace clear up. Memories then, bad memories. "Gorou," she mutters, "The old man we met in the village, he was a third generation. No more than a babe when my mother visited for the last time. Now he an' everybody down to the youngest babes are gone."

I'm at a loss for anything to say, caught between thinking through what she's saying and how she's opening up. I put aside thoughts of what she's saying and the implications of age and loss. The last time Rin spoke so freely to me, things turned terrible between us. I can only wait for her to gather the strength and will to say more, and offer what little company I'm able. Sometimes, a tragedy needs a willing ear to listen.

"But tha's not what I wanted to say," she mumbles, shaking her head hard. She moves too quickly and nearly pitches over, narrowly catching herself. When she's upright and only swaying like a reed in gentle wind, she continues. "But I wan'ed to."

"Talk as freely as you want," I say, unsure if I actually want her to. But I think she needs to hear it.

Curling back up, holding her knees in a most undignified way, she looks as tired as I feel. "I'll say what I came to say." Blue orbs, fur stained and matted by tears, face me. "We... we got the man-eater to talk, to tell us everythin'. The suiko leadin' the kappa made a deal with Kenta." More tears roll down her snout, dripping off her chin. "An', an'..."

Rin closes her eyes to breathe, fighting tears. I don't know why I do it, maybe because she once calmed me at my worst or perhaps seeing her show this much pain robs me of good sense, but I reach out and touch her shoulder. She trembles beneath my touch, yet doesn't shy away. Her snout dips as she fights against a lurching sob, her vulnerability breaking something in me. I couldn't do what she needed last time she was so vulnerable, but with her memory sure to be addled absent until the morning, I risk more than a reassuring touch. Shuffling over, keeping my hand on her and moving the wine aside, I get close enough to rub her back. To let her lean into my bruised and sore body if she needs it.

My touch seems to help calm her, but her breathing still hitches in her throat as she fights a lonely battle. One I've faced on more nights than I want to admit. All I can do is offer my presence and light touch, let her know that she's not alone, since my tongue is dead as driftwood.

The fire is no more than a few dying flames when she finally speaks again. "The man-eater is some kind o' half-kappa," she slurs. "He said the suiko brought him to the edge of the barrier in the forest, an' Kenta made a deal." She wipes at her nose and eyes with her sleeves, and I keep rubbing her back. "For villagers, alive or dead, he..." the kitsune swallows, "he'd teach the half-kappa how to become an Oni. An'," her eyes scrunch, tears pouring out as her chest shakes.

"An' the stupid boy accepted," she blurts out. Rin buries her face in her sleeves, unable to keep the tears back anymore.

I'm tired, slow, and recuperating from two days of hard work after a mild beating, so I add sticks to the fire as I think through what she's said. The flames rise up, casting flickering shadows, and the obvious pieces fit together. I rub her back and put a hand on her arm, any anger I still felt toward Rin gone.

Taro. The boy who lost his parents, and conspired with two kappa to get rid of me for foolish, cruel reasons only the child knew. Taro, who had a kappa for a parent. That boy, he must be the man-thing. I don't know how or why he fell so far, but the knowledge he did hurts even my heart. The realization brings more thoughts together. That's why some of the villagers were taken into the woods, for payment to Kenta. And, I darkly realize, my toes curling as my hands shake with restraint, that is why there was a devoured corpse in the village. His ancestry must have let him change when he ate a person, making him larger, more twisted, and seemingly immune to cold. There would be far fewer man-eaters if there wasn't power taken from the act.

Rubbing the crying kitsune's back, I feel so stupid for ignoring my first impression at the kappa's cave. Rin liked the boy, even acted motherly toward him from what I saw. To find out he was responsible for the massacre, I can tell from her choking sobbing that it's crushing her. How did she hold herself together through the ceremony and funeral fire? Despite my warning about drink and grief, I don't think I could have held myself together that long. Battles are one thing, but the slow, agonizing wait of tending a pyre? And she made it through the entire funeral ceremony before drinking herself senseless, so senseless she'd come talk to me. I don't know what to make of this, or her.

I do the only thing that makes sense. Through touch, I let her know that she's not alone. If need be, I'll clean up after any sickness that might befall her from so much wine. And when morning comes, I'll face what I must.

She leans toward me, but doesn't put any weight against me. Her sobbing has lessened, though that doesn't mean she's okay. I can hear her whisper to herself, a one sided conversation punctured by heaving cries. "Why," I think I hear, "Why does everyone..." her words tail off into pained mumbles.

Swallowing at that lump in my throat, I do something stupid. I hug her, awkwardly, trying to offer what little strength I have to her. Forget all the bruises, welts, sore muscles, and stinging scratches I have. I forget the difference between guest and host, or how I couldn't answer or face her once I learned she felt love for me. I said I was her friend and I should uphold that.

The kitsune is slow to react. Her arms move with hesitation and a deliberate slowness, as if she's afraid I'll tell her to go away or stop. Or that her claws may frighten me away, I muse, as she slowly returns the embrace.

"Don't die," she whimpers, shocking me by shoving her head against my chest. "Don't die."

"Hush," I mumble, eyeing the fire and dismissing her mumbling as senseless grief. The flames are low enough I can safely leave it to burn to ashes on its own. I let Rin stay against my chest, comforting her as best I can.

Her sobbing dies down, but she still shakes. Five jugs of wine is a lot, but if she hasn't been sick all over me or the floor yet, I don't think she will be. So I gently urge her toward the pile of furs I was using as a bed, only to find the kitsune too weak to stand. She can barely shuffle with me, and I end up half-dragging her along. I'm nearly out of breath when I get her over there and whisper that she should lay down.

She does, but instead of letting go of me, she clings to my clothes. I'm about to tell her to stop, when I catch sight of her glowing, blue eyes. The desperate need to not be alone burns painfully within, her mouth twisted in fear. For a moment, it's as if the world stops.

Then she lets go, turning her eyes away with shame as she shakily lowers herself the rest of the way. "S-sorry," she slurs.

My heart beating once more, the exhaustion in my body catching up to me, I lay beside her. "It's okay," I mutter, more to myself than her.

She stirs beside me. "Egil," she says, voice weak and cracking. "Can..." her hands grab my arm. "Please, I'll..." her voice breaks with a pathetic, weak sound. "I'll never ask anything of you again. But please don't leave now."

With a numb tongue, I answer, "I'm not going to leave. So don't promise anything."

A grieving, crestfallen woman wraps herself against my side. Her fuzzy face plants against my shoulder as she tries not to start crying again. I stare up at the roof of the hut, watching the shadows flicker. Something possesses me, a dull feeling in the numbness of my shocked spirit, to reach over and start softly patting the furry hand holding my chest. There's no way she'll remember any of this in the morning. What's the harm?

Shadows dull, meld into the black, and my eyes grow heavy. Rin's breathing calms, her tails slump against me, nesting me in her warmth. The faint light fades along with my troubled thoughts.