The Kistune, Part 2

The timberland was thick with Douglas fir. It was a rain forest, with fog crawling through the coniferous jungle. This had once been Ponderosa pine woodland, with scattered scrubs and dried weeds between the distant trunks, almost a prairie. Now moss hung on branches, which grew thicker than a tree a man would see in the modern world. The trees were never-ending, lush, dangerous. Once magic returned to the world, everything had become a fairy-tale. Dragons roosted in their mountain cave-holes, protecting their treasure hordes, no longer gold, but valuable ancient computer components, manufacturing goods, things that would have rebuilt society if they weren't stolen away. There were aforementioned roving night-spirits, visible in the dark but aso present in the day, cackling in the breeze. Mushrooms ballooned, growing the size of bushes, of trees, of large animals. And the elves ruled again. A man could not dilly-dally into the groves without risking his sanity, his self of self. He may come back without a mind, or worse, with a donkey's head for his own.

The Kitsune's fox ears twitched. A hooting owl silenced itself. The night chilled, and goose pimples rose along his exposed skin. Parts of him were covered in a lipstick-shaded layer of soft hair. Even here his skin was cold. It was an unnatural feeling, and one he had grown familiar with over the years. The freeze slithered across his skin like a serpent and then dove into his blood, dripping lethargically through his insides once it hit fluid. He shivered, yes, shivered. You would think that it would stop, after having experienced this sensation so many times, but he knew that could never be true. It was a creature of another dimension poking its head into our own-- and that sense of dread, it was something every man faces once in his life, if he knows it or not. 

 

The Kitsune's doleful tail was motionless. He knew it was only a matter of time before HE spoke to him. He had been expecting it all night, and he considered his duty to bear, like a man knowing he must wake early in the morning for work. 

It was a moaning. A deep moaning. Not from out there, with the spirits, the woodland, or even, God forbid, the moon. A deep moaning, forming into a hum, which if you listened closely enough became discernible, like a new language you were finally getting the hang of.

Hellllllo, it whispered into his elongated left ear. No it was inside his ear. You do well. It was in the center of his head now, begging him to question everything, his sanity even. It was the voice of a komodo dragon. Deep. Full of the texture of a lizard's mouth, with its dagger-teeth and poison-saliva. It sunk into your soul, into the deep unconscious that would snap you awake at 2 AM in the morning, feeling like a ghost passing through you. Fox-man. Fox-man. Oh dirty, mortal fox-man, full of pulsing blue blood, convulsing organs ready to be popped like tasty zittttttts. The voice was coherent and incoherent at the same time, for it was a nightmare voice. It didn't make any sense. Fox-man, Fox-man. Full of spite man. You hate meeeee. You Hate ME. Don't you? 

 

“No, Master,” he answered impassively, hiding the fear inside. There was sweat building in his arm pits and along his brow. It was a lie, and he knew that the voice could see him, see his thoughts for what they were. Why did he even bother?

You want to kill him, don't you, my fox dream? You want to kill the stupid, stupid man who runs through your forest. You want him dead. In the Kitsune's mind he saw a man's eyes widening with each word, the voice growing stronger with each syllable. The Kitsune didn't want to speak with his Master, not now, not ever again, but he had made his choice long ago.

He pictured the man falling, a lump sack, shaking between the trees, shaking, shaking, then stopping. An arrow was in his back. Yes, that was what he wanted. He felt his tail erect. I see what you are thinking. But that would go against my orderssssss, fox-man. That would go against my. Orders. Fox-mannnnn. The voice was turning into a hiss.