Winter, Day 17 - In-Between

The kami stepped out of their house, a small white fox at their side. They paused at the door, bidding the trio of kitsune within to stay alert, but not to follow them unless something needed their urgent attention.

They were dressed simply, a white cotton kimono tucked into red hakama, cut to accommodate nine brilliant white tails, their tips a bloody red. This late at night, there was no chance of being seen; the magic they shrouded themselves with was gone entirely, their true form visible... though it always was, for the fox-kin residents of the farm. They carried with them a cloth sack; wrapped around their waist was a long strip of leather, the only weapon they never went without. There was no mask hanging from their belt this night; rather, their face was that of a fox, the muzzle sharp, teeth glinting in the dim light of the stars and moon.

They had told Coyote that they needed to take a walk, and tonight was the night, all the more urgent now for the *wave* they had felt, the spiraling, the *breaking*, a sensation that was so intimately familiar to them that they *knew* what it meant, what it could mean, what it could *do*. They had felt this sensation before, and that even more than the Mistwood problem had spurred them into greater action.

Inari walked around the simple farmhouse they had chosen as a home, walked directly toward the large red torii gate that sat behind it. The ground was undisturbed, footprints giving the gate a wide berth, never going through. The kami drew themselves up and stepped directly through the center, following the spirit path laid within.

The other side, at least on the farm, seemed normal but in a hazy sort of way, as if a fog had settled over the land. The first thing they did was turn to face the gate, pulling an old, yellowed *ofuda* from its center. The *ofuda* burned, an offering, and they were pulling a fresh one from their bag, resealing the gate.

The white fox here shone brightly, a glimmering silvery light at the side of the kami. She seemed larger, too, much larger than a fox should be, and *here*, in this place, it could be seen that she possessed a second tail, proof of her age and progression on her path. She would not stray from her kami's side, a protector and messenger and guide all in one.

The pair walked the perimeter of the farm, removing *ofuda* and replacing them with new ones, until the bag was empty and hung limply from Inari's hands.

*Time to explore,* they thought to the white fox, glancing around the farm. They could see specks of light dancing around the property. Three bright glimmers from the farmhouse - the kitsune trio. One brighter than the others, a golden hue within it. On the front porch, where they knew Kuro to be, was a silvery glimmer like-but-not-like that of Shiro. He could not walk this path with them yet, but might one day. Soon, perhaps, if the advancing white fur on his physical form was any indication.

Elsewhere on the farm, scattered about, sometimes alone, sometimes in small groups, were dots of dimmer copper fire, though even here two stood out more brightly than the rest, their spirit flames threaded through with pale silver.

They turned their attention out, focusing around the farm, and spotted the occasional glimpse of copper here, too, the kin who had chosen to stay wild, to stay out in the world. Some drew close to Inari and Shiro as they moved, as if sensing their presence, but they drifted away soon after, warned off in silence. *Do not follow*, they heard, whispers in their minds. *Do not track.*

Kami and spirit fox ranged further and further out from the farm, checking on the pockets of kin. They paused at the edge of Ellis' orchard, their head tilting slightly as they took it in. This was the first time since his arrival that they had walked this realm so far from their own lands. A few dots of copper were here, too, kin who were visiting - stealing apples, perhaps? - or keeping the grounds safe from animal intruders. They'd grown fond of his ducks, after all.

The grounds felt... safe. It radiated outward, and though they couldn't *see* Ellis, they could feel what they thought must be his presence. They had gotten quite used to his calm, comforting aura, but tonight it felt almost restless. Strange.

They felt more than saw a path open up for them, allowing them entry if they so chose. Their mouth opened in a fox grin, and they glanced down at Shiro, gesturing to move onward. *It would be a shame to not accept such a gift.*

Walking through, that same haze lay over everything. They could see the trees, the house, but it was misted over, as their own farm had been. Here, though, the power was different. It lay over everything, distinctly Ellis, and seemed to pulse, a heartbeat of its own.

They passed through easily, feeling a sense of acceptance and welcome from his lands. The kami wandered a bit, meandering through the orchard, weaving around trees and checking on the kin that had decided to claim the lands as theirs to protect.

As they did, Ellis’ aura seemed to settle back into a more familiar, steady pulse, though there was still something… off. They couldn’t put their finger on it, and as they couldn’t *see* him, not at the moment, they decided to save the thought for later. Inari would check on him when they could.

Something brushed against the edge of their awareness. They turned in time to see the glow that was Kuro patrolling the edges of Spireno, as if following something. Something the kami could briefly sense, but it was gone out of their range before they could focus on it. Inari made a mental note to ask Kuro about it later.

They had other things to deal with tonight.

Soft steps took them along their path. If it were a normal night - and were they in a ‘normal’ place - they would be enjoying the chill evening, the stars shining overhead. They would likely be joined by wild kin, coming to visit and gossip.

Their steps felt heavy as they made their way toward the tainted realm of Mistwood.

They hoped that in this… this umbral realm… that they would be able to feel the taint without being fooled by its appearance in the mortal realm. Would they sense the same things that Coyote had? Would they find something different?

Their kin-cousin’s words still tumbled about in their mind, a constant stream of thought as they tried to make heads or tails of it. What he had told them that day in the café… The kami bit back a sigh, glancing down at their Shiro, who looked up with a concerned gaze of her own.

Mistwood approached. Rather, they approached Mistwood, but that was not how it *felt*.

Everything about it felt twisted and wrong. As they approached, even at a distance they could see… a twisted, misty wood sinking into a boggy mire. Here, without the mortal realm’s overlay of scent, Inari’s vulpine nose could *smell* the place, the cloying, sickly-sweet smell of blood and bloated flesh.

There was… death-but-not. As Coyote had said. They had been around long enough to see blighted plants, to watch fields wither and die, bloat and rot and myriad other things. And that is what *this* felt like to Inari, that stage of… of *dying*. It wasn’t dead *yet*. It might *never* be dead.

A kami of agriculture as old and storied as they were, Mistwood felt familiar but in a decidedly twisted way. Where Inari used bone meal and decaying offal to help their crops grow, this felt… it felt like… like spirits? They paused, tails twitching with concern. Shiro whined beside them, confirming what they thought they sensed.

Mistwood wasn’t *dying*. It was *growing*. It was using something unnatural to grow, something that was never meant to be used for such a purpose. And even as they watched, they sensed… no, they *saw*… something struggling up from the mire. To Inari, it felt much like a yokai, a twisted spirit born from… from another spirit.

If they had been wearing their human face, they would have paled at the very thought.

They didn’t need to see any more. With bile rising in their throat and an unnerving *understanding* in their mind, they fled back to Foxpoint as quickly as their legs could carry them, Shiro at their heels.