Kagetsu

The higher you climbed, the stranger the scene became. The slope gave way to a small, almost flat area, and in the middle of the wild forest stood a house.

It wasn't a lair, not a cave. It was a house. A traditional one, made of dark wood, with an elegant roof and immaculate walls. The luxury of this Kitsune haven stood in stark contrast to the filth and blood you'd left behind.

The shoji, the sliding paper doors, stood wide open, as if inviting entry, but the invitation was laced with terror. A wide, dark trail of blood ran from the threshold and into the perfectly polished wooden floor.

You went inside.

A silence reigned within, heavier than any scream. The room was spacious, but in the center of it, where the low table should have been, sat Kitsune.

He was dressed in a light, richly embroidered haori, which was now torn and soaked with blood. He neither sat like a warrior nor stood like a monster. He sat hunched over like an old man, clutching something wrapped in his wide sleeve.

The kitsune bowed his head so low that his long, red hair hid his face. He swayed gently, the motion like someone lulling himself to sleep.

Your appearance, even with all your silence, did not go unnoticed. Kitsune flinched but did not raise his head. He merely instinctively covered what he was holding with his body, as if shielding it from your gaze.

You moved closer. Only then did you see what he was holding. They were fox cubs, very small, their fur still soft and dull. Then you examined Kitsune himself. He was exhausted. His usually vibrant fur seemed dull, and the magic that should have enveloped him was almost invisible. He looked doomed, tired, broken.

And finally, you saw the reason for his impotence. On his left leg, hidden beneath his haori but clutching the flesh tightly, was a massive steel trap. The teeth had dug deep, and the skin around them was inflamed and festering. He was chained to that spot. He couldn't escape, even if he wanted to.