My hands tremble and my nostrils flare. I’ve never come across a human who smelled more delicious. His scent blanks my mind and leaves my body numb. I could finish him off in seven bites, I think. First his throat to silence his scream, then his head, botharms, his legs, and then torso. A meal like him would keep me satisfied for two whole moons.
My sudden lack of control horrifies me. I’m trapped within myself, so consumed by this desperate hunger that it reduces me to the beast I truly am. What if I lose myself and go on a rampage? I’d feast on every soul I could find until hunters are called to find me.
The watchman observes me with obvious curiosity. I recognize him now. He was the one I spotted on the other side of the canal earlier this evening, fending off the attentions of the young ladies in their boat. Has he been following me? Does he know what I’ve done? My eyes flicker down to his weapon now.
Sharp. Dangerous.
“What is your name?” he asks.
I bite my tongue. He tries to offer his hand, but I flinch away like I’ve been burned. I don’t know what’s come over me. I need to escape, to get as far away from here as possible.
And yet I can’t move. My war-drum heart hammers against the ladder of my ribs, the rush of blood past my ears putting a terrible pressure behind my eyes. If I don’t eat this watchman, I feel like I might die.
Even worse than that—I think he knows. Heknows. It’s in the tension of his shoulders, his stance, prepared and alert and ready to fight if need be. This man may look the part of a night watchman, but I know for a fact that their patrols don’t take them out this far. In fact, I’ve seen the local proprietors pay good money for the privilege of a wide berth. Either this man has been newly hired and is not yet in someone’s pocket, or he isn’t a watchman at all.
I’ve remained silent for far too long. His hand falls to the hilt of his dao—
I lunge at him, my jaw unhinging as the last remnants of my sanity wash away. He throws an arm up and my teeth sink into the leather of his gauntlet, barely scraping skin. I see him reach forhis sword, but I knock it away with a well-placed kick, using the momentum to throw myself under and then over his arm serving as a pivot point—all while my teeth sink in further. I throw him off-balance, dragging him down. The hardthudof his body against the stones rattles my skull. If he tries to move, all it will take is one hard yank to separate arm from socket.
Unlike the drunkard, however, I smell no panic. No fear. Surprise, perhaps, but the watchman is quick to counter, moving with an almost practiced ease. He gathers dirt in his free hand and throws it into my eyes. Such a nasty trick. His arm falls from my mouth as I hiss and reel back, blinking away the debris stinging my vision.
“Wen! Sooah! Do it now!”
His gaze flicks up to something behind me. I realize my mistake—I’ve let my guard down. I don’t even have a chance to turn before someone throws a weighted net over my head. There are two other watchmen, closing in to pin my arms and legs down with their pointy knees. No matter how much I thrash and scream, they show no remorse as they press yellow strips of parchment to my wrists and ankles—binding talismans—to magically immobilize my limbs.
“We have the animal secured, sir,” one of them announces, his words thick with a distinguishable countryside accent. “What should we do now, Cap’n Sonam?”
Sonam. So that’s the name of this monster. An uncommon one around these parts. I’ve only ever heard it once before, though now is hardly the time to reminisce.
Onlookers begin to gather, horrified to see three grown men forcibly restraining a helpless woman. I lean into their alarm, crying and wailing and pleading in the hopes of manipulating their sympathy. My performance is convincing, but their disgust with the watchmen quickly dissolves into curious shock as CaptainSonam steps forward, crouches down before me, and reaches beneath the net to pull off my mask—and the magic along with it.
I transform against my will. Now they see me for what I am: a revolting beast. I can’t stand to have them look.
“Give it back!” I gnash my teeth, swallowing my burning shame.
“I’ve only ever caught a nine-tailed fox once before,” he says thoughtfully. The captain inspects my mask with great interest. “But it never had something like this. Where did you find this piece of cursed magic?”
My voice is a growl from the very back of my throat. “Give it back right now, or I’ll eat your heart whole!”
He doesn’t seem remotely threatened. Or even alarmed, for that matter, to lay eyes upon my hulking, demonic form. Instead, he calmly turns to one of his friends. “Secure its binds and bring it to the Jade Palace. I need to present it to the king. It’ll be safer there for the shamans to banish it away from prying eyes.”
“Banish me?” I snap. “Banish me where?”
“To Hell.”
5Yue
Hunting Log #164:
They often resemble animals, which helps them hide in plain sight.
A list (non-exhaustive): hawks, tigers, hounds, boars… foxes.
They force me into abarbed muzzle, the suffocating leather straps twisting around and over my head like thorny vines. The dull metal isn’t strong enough to cut my flesh, but it’s uncomfortable nonetheless, biting into me like vicious horseflies in the summertime heat.
I’m crammed into a cage so small that I can’t stand, nor properly sit; crouched over painfully as I awkwardly balance myself on my paws. Every corner is sealed with talismans designed to trap me as the guards pull me forward on a rickety wooden cart. No matter how hard I fight against the bars, rocking myself from side to side, the magic refuses to relent. As we draw closer to the main gates, an ugly chill shreds its way down my spine.
I’ve never been this close to the Jade Palace before. There’s never been any need. Too many guards, too many constricting walls. A death trap more than a hunting ground. It can only be described as a city built within a city—built within another city.Its massive courtyards and palaces nest on top of each other, the walls of each section circling around the next. The king’s abode is located directly in the center, the main pavilion overshadowing every other building in its vicinity. Everything from the pathways to the guard towers to the moon bridges arching over man-made streams is carved of polished jade, but I’m the furthest from impressed. A pretty shell does nothing for the rot within, and I can smell its repugnance all around me.
