A light rain was falling in southern Ionia. It cooled the morning air and turned the forest a dull tint of gray, creating tiny streams of water through the fallen branches and leaves of the forest floor.
A young female fox padded quietly between the trunks of the towering trees, prowling for its next meal. It was not happy. Foxes had no concept of luxury, but it did prefer the warmth of its den to the rain that dampened its fur and hindered its ability to smell its prey. But it could not return now. Not before it had eaten. A fox never knew exactly what its next meal would be, or if it would come at all. To skip a meal could mean death. Such is the life of a wild animal.
The rain did have its advantages, however; the gray sheet of falling water helped to hide its long, white body. Its white fur was its curse- all the other foxes had coats in shades of gray, or brown, or orange, allowing them to hide from both prey and predators alike. The fox had had to work so much harder than they to ensure its own survival from day to day. But it had since birth, and would continue to do so until its death. Its instincts would not allow otherwise. Mentally, it was a fox just like any other, save for one thing.
It was not content with being a fox. It was not happy with the body it had been born into –and not just because it was white, and an inconvenience.
It wanted to be human.
It assumed that such desires were unwarranted by most foxes, and indeed, most other animals, but it had always felt some strange connection to the world around itself, something more than that felt by other foxes.
It had seen them, the humans. Studied them, watched them. It had visited their towns and villages, eyeing them intently. They were the masters of both the physical world and the magic within it. It watched in wonder as they worked the invisible energy into spells, conjuring fire to light a torch, or water to extinguish an out of control blaze. It watched as they cleared trees to make their homes, used the wood for tools, and used them to irrigate and plow fields to grow crops to feed themselves. And often, it watched as they hunted animals to eat, just as the fox was doing now.
No beast of the woods was stronger than they, and no obstacle seemed to be able to stand in their path. The fox wanted very much to be one of them, to be a part of that world, to hold that power.
Movement in the brush called the fox's attention to the present. The fox's eyes snapped forward, scanning the tall grass for more movement, its nine snow-white tails twitching in anticipation.
There – a rabbit, standing on its hind legs, eyes wide, searching the vicinity for danger.
The fox dashed into action. As swift as a bolt of lightning, it descended upon the rabbit, snapping it up in its ash colored jaw. As the rodent squirmed, trying to get free, the fox broke its neck without a second though. After all, such things as mercy had no place in a fox's heart.
Later, as morning passed into midday, the fox was again slinking through the forest, this time on its way home. The rain had intensified, and the fox gave up hunting in the downpour. A distant crash of thunder resonated through the trees and in the fox's very bones. The fox's instincts drove it faster onward to shelter.
As the thunder subsided, a new sound, faint, distant, floated on the wind. It was a curious thing– a ringing noise, not unlike the sound of the bells it had heard in many a human town, but not so deep or resonating. It was fast and angry, almost violent.
Against its instinct's driving need for it to find shelter, the fox followed the noise to its source. It ran through the woods for hours, searching for what was making the riotous din. As the fox got nearer and the sun began to sink low in the sky, the sounds ceased altogether. More curious now than ever, the fox pressed on.
The rain had finally stopped as the fox came to a line of trees. It was sure that something lay on the other side.
With the ceasing of the rain, the setting sun was able to break through the clouds at last. It cast a bright orange light that seemed as thick as honey, and it seeped through the gaps in the trees before the animal. Tentatively, the fox stepped between them.
What lay before it would be considered a grisly sight were it glimpsed through human eyes, but the fox felt only a deepening sense of puzzlement.
Dozens upon dozens of humans lay dead in the field beyond the line of trees. Some wore armor; others wore robes, and most carried weapons of some kind- swords, axes staves, lances. It was apparent some sort of battle had broken out here not long before. Which side had been victorious the fox could not determine- men and women from both sides lay side by side in widening pools of crimson, and whatever their differences had been in life, they were now all equal in death.
The fox stepped through the maze of collapsed bodies, wading through the blood soaked grass. It was confused – it had never seen humans fight before. Foxes did not know war. They quarreled over territory, or mates, but never did they kill each other en masse.
The fox's finely honed senses spotted a blue glow in the distance, standing out like a beacon amongst so much red. The fox's instincts told it to flee, but in some way it did not understand, it seemed to be drawing the fox in. Giving in to this calling, it slowly approached the glow.
As it got near, it saw that it was another human. This one however, was still alive. He was leaning against the trunk of a tree, staff on the ground at his side, and he was dressed in long, elegant robes. The blue glow the fox had seen emanated from a ring of translucent, flowing energy that encircled him – a shield of some sort.
The fox silently moved closer until it was a few feet from him. He did not see it, as his eyes were closed. The fox noticed that he was clutching his side with one hand. He was wounded badly, perhaps mortally so. Blood seeped from between his fingers, dripping to the ground. The man groaned in pain, and opened his eyes.
If he was surprised to see a white, nine-tailed fox sitting amongst the eviscerated bodies of the dead, watching his every move, he did not show it. Rather, a ghost of a smile came to his lips as his magical shield faded away to nothingness. He met the fox's gaze and something deep inside of the fox told it that this was exactly where it was meant to be.
The human closed his eyes once more, and laid his head against the great tree for the final time. As the fox watched, he went limp, his life leaving his body forever. As he died, something struck the fox. It felt as if a heavy object had slammed into its chest, but nothing could be seen. A few moments passed in stunned silence, and then the fox felt a tingling sensation where its heart would be. It slowly spread through its body, to the tips of its tails and paws. The tingling quickly escalated to a painful burning sensation, and the fox knew fear. It tried to flee, but it was paralyzed, unable to move. It was pierced again and again my white-hot stakes of pain across its body, adding to the already present cacophony of pain, as if it were being struck repeatedly by an invisible dagger. The pain continued to intensify, unseen flames crawling across its body, and if the fox could have screamed, it would have.
Minutes that seemed like hours passed, and the fox began to glow a bright white, softly at first, but just like the burning sensation, it too began to intensify until the fox was blinded by the very light it was radiating. The burning increased further until the fox could take it no longer, but miraculously, mercifully, it ceased all at once without the slightest warning.
In its place came an overwhelming rush of…something. Something the fox could not explain. It was ecstasy, intoxicating.
It was life.
It filled the fox's mind until it could think of nothing else, could conceive of nothing else, then that too, faded away, leaving her distraught, angry, hungry for more. The light dimmed, and receded. The fox looked around as the last of that feeling left her.
The man with the staff was nowhere to be seen, alive or otherwise, seemingly vanished from his resting place at the base of the tree.
The fox was puzzled. The ground seemed…farther away.
She flicked her tails about, and looked down, catching sight of her shadow. To her eternal shock and utter delight, her silhouette was not that of a fox – it was long and lithe, the body of the humans who lay at her feet.
She was ecstatic. She looked at her hands; the white- peach colored skin of the humans in place of fur, the long, elegant hands and slender fingers in place of paws. She looked down at her two long legs, and dug her toes into the cool, soft earth near the tree. She laughed.
She flung her arms wide and let the last few rays of the setting sun wash over her, feeling the heat, and truly enjoying it, for the first time.
Later, as the sun began to sink below the horizon, she took her first few, shaky steps on two legs. After several failed attempts that ended in her falling heavily to the ground, she finally seemed to get the hang of it. She paced back and forth in front of the tree, slowly building speed and confidence. She was clever – she mastered it quickly.
She wanted to see more of her new, human body. She wanted to know what she looked like. So she padded past the tree and back into the forest, searching for something that she might catch her reflection in. She laughed as cold water droplets fell from the still- wet trees onto her skin.
After walking for a time, she found what she was looking for. She knelt next to a small pond created by tiny streams of water spilling down a sheer rock face. She gazed into the gently rippling water, and looked at her reflection. An onlooker might have called her beautiful, though she herself would not. Foxes had no concept of beauty.
She had long, straight black hair that hung to the middle of her back and lay strewn across her breasts. She looked into her own almond-shaped eyes and the ghostly amber colored irises within, a smile coming to her lips.
She raised a hand to her cheek and brushed the three light marks on each one that marked where her whiskers had been. Her smile faded to a slight frown.
She put a hand on top of her head. She still had the ears of a fox- not white as they had been, but now as black as her hair. She twitched her tails.
The transformation was not yet complete.
She shivered as a cool breeze swept across her naked body. The sun was going down, and it was getting cold. She crossed her arms across her chest and wrapped her tails around herself to keep warm. She rose slowly, and headed back to the field where the humans lay.
In the twilight, she searched for some suitable clothing. She knew little of human customs, but she did know that it would not be acceptable to walk into town unclothed. She scanned the fallen warriors.
There – a female soldier. Her armor was relatively undamaged – the woman's throat had been slit. With the speed and agility of a fox in a human's form, she rolled the body over and stripped the soldier of her armor. She did not feel any remorse in this act- the woman obviously did not need it now. She would put it to much better use. It was simple, yet functional: cloth underclothes, boots, a belt, and a metal breastplate. There was still some blood on it, but hopefully it would go unnoticed until it could be washed off.
She finished dressing as the twilight gave way to night. It was dark, and while her eyesight was not as good as it had been as a fox, she found that she was still able to see fairly well. She placed a hand atop her head, and frowned. It would not do to have the townspeople running in fear at the sight of her fox ears and tails. She crouched down and scooped up and abandoned metal helm. It was surprisingly ornate. It was cast from the same silver metal as her breastplate, and had a metal piece to cover the bridge of the nose, as well as a flip down visor to cover the eyes.
She placed it on her head and flipped down the visor to hide her unnaturally colored irises. It was uncomfortable as her ears were made to lie flat against her head, but she supposed she would have to make do. As an afterthought, she removed the soldier's short sword and scabbard and secured it about her own waist.
She swished her tails. They could not be hidden so easily. She furrowed her brow, and eventually settled for bunching them together and draping them over a shoulder. With any luck she would appear to be wearing a scarf of some sort. It would not hold up to close inspection, but then she did not expect to linger in one place for too long. Her whisker marks would still be visible, but hopefully they would not seem too out of place.
She straightened and placed her hands on her hips, scanning the horizon for an indicator of civilization. Almost instantly, her eyes locked onto a dim orange glow and trails of smoke, gray against a midnight blue in the distance – the telltale signs of a town. She smiled, hardly able to wait to make herself a part of human culture, as was her greatest wish.
Wind pulled at her hair as she began walking.