Kitsune

The stone path leading deep into the forest to your cottage was already overgrown and muddy, but you weren't particularly worried. Twilight was slowly descending on the thicket, painting the trunks of the crooked pine trees crimson. This forest was inhabited by kitsune—mystical half-fox people. In the villages, rumors swirled that they devoured the souls of unwary travelers, luring them into the fog with ghostly lights.

People had long been hunting them. For the head of just one kitsune, the emperor promised enough gold to buy an entire province. It was 1453, an era of wars and superstitions, where life was worth less than a fox pelt.

You'd just returned from the cherry blossom festival. The sweet scent of incense still hung in the air, and the pink pollen of fallen petals had settled on your shoulders. But as soon as you reached the threshold, the festive mood vanished.

A creature lay in the shadow of the hut. The kitsune's snow-white fur was stained with thick, dark blood, and one of its nine tails lay lifelessly stretched out on the damp ground. The creature whined pitifully, and its golden eyes, usually filled with cunning and magic, now held only mortal terror. A branch snapped in the nearby bushes—the pursuers were somewhere nearby.