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The young man who had admitted them. He must have been watching her to make sure Aiko was safe with the unfamiliar wolf.
He brushed against Aiko's side as they passed close—an instinctive greeting as scent was exchanged.
Kitsune*—supernatural fox spirit in Japanese folklore
Chapter 23
The sleek black wolf stayed with them only as far as the edge of the village. Aiko ran a gentle hand down his glossy coat, and Fae could only sigh inside as she watched the wolf lean against her slight frame. Even as the human side held back, the animal spirit could not help but follow their instincts. It was the same with Blaidd's massive wolf, who would follow her around, brush against her side and nudge her for scratches. It was always a shock when the human side wanted nothing to do with her.
When they reached the village gate, he veered away, slipping soundlessly back into the trees. His dark shape stretched and thinned between the trunks, a shadow returning to shadows.
Aiko's eyes followed him until they could no longer see him. Her gaze lingered on the place where he had vanished, ears tilting back just slightly. The edges of her lips turned down, and she let out a small, wistful sigh—so soft Fae might have missed it—before giving herself a brisk shake, as if shrugging the feeling loose.
"We live together in harmony, but wolves and foxes…we cannot have a forever together," she whispered. "We foxes choose our mates and Yamato...he will find his fated and forget I ever existed."
It was a love story that ended even before it began.
"Come," she said lightly. "Let's get something to eat. Then we get ready for tomorrow. We should arrive before everyone."
The village was quiet in the way of places long accustomed to early mornings and hard work. Sunlight spilled warm and gold across wooden thresholds as they made their way to a small restaurant tucked between two workshops.
Inside, a woman looked up from behind the counter.
Hanako-chan did not speak English or Wolven, but she seemed to need neither.
She greeted Aiko by gently bopping her on the head with practiced affection, scolding and fondness all folded into the same gesture. Then she turned to Fae, smiled kindly—eyes crinkling at the corners—and hurried off toward the kitchen with a soft clatter of bowls and trays.
The food arrived quickly.
Onigiri first—neat rice balls wrapped in crisp seaweed, filled with local treasures: sharp umeboshi that made Fae's mouth pucker, crunchy takuan with its bright, pickled bite. There was udon, too, steaming and comforting, the broth simple and deep, settling warmly in Fae's stomach after the long day. They ate like they were starving.
For dessert, Hanako-chan set down rice cakes—soft, yielding things dusted lightly with flour, some filled with sweet red bean paste.
Fae tried one cautiously, chewed slowly before swallowing. "I think…" she decided diplomatically, "this may be an acquired taste."
Aiko laughed as she helped herself to Fae's share.
They made their way home in the twilight, the village settling into itself around them.
Fae was bone-deep tired by the time they reached the house, exhaustion dragging pleasantly at her limbs after yet another winding tour of unfamiliar paths and half-remembered landmarks. Aiko chatted all the way to the door, pointing out shortcuts and neighbours, places and gossip they would revisit later, before promising with a grin to take Fae to the bathhouse over the weekend.
Then she was gone, darting off down the path with the same quicksilver energy she'd had all day.
Fae managed a quick wipe-down in the cold water of the small bathhouse, barely more than the essentials, before making her way into the bedroom. The futon welcomed her like a cocoon. She lay back with a sigh as she catalogued all she had learned during the day.
A moment later, the bag at her side shifted.
Feraal wriggled free, stretching as he emerged, then climbed onto her chest with a sinuous movement. He circled once, twice, and curled into a ball, a familiar weight that somehow made her homesick. It had now been weeks since she had spoken to anyone from home. She had implied that she had forgiven all the neglect, but in her heart, resentment still lived—towards her brother and sister who conveniently looked away, towards her alpha who did not protect his pack member, but most of all, towards her lifemate, who was no mate at all. Soon, as the full moon drew near, the familiar pull will start, the irresistible urge to go back, to touch, to belong to her one. And she would need all her willpower, aided by the moonflower essence, to keep her from losing her mind.
'Tell me about your day,' Feraal interrupted her thoughts.
And she did.
She told him about the forest, the fox, the run through the trees. About the handsome man-turned-wolf named Yamoto, and their doomed love story. About the village, the food, the woman at the restaurant. He listened without interrupting, his attention absolute, as if every detail mattered.
Then, he asked about Haruko-san.
'What was he like?'
