They followed the path she had come by, less than a year before.
They followed it down into the ash-strewn valley, past the burnt wreckage of timbers where the villa had been.
The peasants they passed... It was a world Shinta had never known. Still thin and filthy (as Kaoru and himself had become), scraping furrows in the fields, they would pause in their work to smile at the couple. They offered food and places to rest.
"You should watch out for your husband, Miss," one woman warned Kaoru. "This valley is haunted, and the fox spirit has a taste for men who carry swords."
Others corroborated the story. Several soldiers who had lingered after the battle last fall were later found cold and motionless, their clothing torn, their bodies sliced open and drained of blood. Over the winter, other samurai ventured in on a raid, and the same thing happened to them. The one survivor, hardly more than a child himself, spoke of a demonic woman, her mesmerizing beauty, her elegance. Her laughter as she seduced his comrades. Her cruelty. Her terrifying lust for blood.
That night Shinta felt a woman's hand - softer than Kaoru's, with longer fingers and sharp, terribly sharp nails, cutting shallow tracks of blood across his chest. He woke to the echo of a woman's laughter, her voice low and rich and... familiar.
"Stay away from him, damn it!" Kaoru hissed. She was sitting up beside him, staring out into the darkness, trying to see...
But no one was there.
The next few days, Kaoru was irritable, jealous and angry and worried that a demon had set her sights on Shinta.
Their nights were uneventful, and Shinta tried to reassure Kaoru that they had nothing more to fear. Kaoru didn't believe him, and finally she whacked him on the arm in frustration. He grinned; he couldn't help it. Every day, he saw that she was getting stronger. Even her sleep had become peaceful.
What was a vengeful demon next to that?
.