The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

Chapter 162: A Festival in Flying Fish Village

One Ear, with all of a spirit's capacity for rapid healing, recovered very nicely under Floridiana's care. In fact, she even came out the other end healthier than she'd been. The mage strengthened the cartilage in one of the wolf's ears that had caused it to droop when she was a pup and given her the name. One Ear did tend to give spiders, even mortal spiders I could have stepped on and squashed, a wide berth from then on, though. No matter how much we (well, I) teased her, she refused to get her nose close to any more spider webs.

I supposed it wasn't a bad instinct to have per se, even if it were pretty comical to watch a giant wolf spirit skitter backwards from a teeny tiny spider in its delicate lacy web.

We spent another moon ranging through the Wilds, pacifying all the demon tribes we encountered. At the end of the fishing season, we headed back towards Flying Fish Village with an entourage of "honored guests" that was the same size as the village population.

Out of earshot of our hostages, Floridiana whispered to me, "There's no way the villagers have space to house so many extra people. Where are we going to put them?"

I was just going to have them build more of those wall-less huts. I think they call them pavilions.

The hostages were all demons. Housing them outdoors all year round was no different from their current lifestyle. Although – Pallus had complained about the lowlands being too hot for thick-furred cats accustomed to mountain climes. Was that going to be an issue here? It would be highly inconvenient if any of the hostages died under our care....

Nah. Pallus and his manuls had survived just fine in Goldhill, hadn't they? There was no need to coddle this pack of demons.

Floridiana was still talking. I returned my attention to her in time to hear her say, "But where will we build all those extra pavilions? It's not like there's a lot of flat, cleared land between the foothills and the sea."

Then clear some.

The solution was so obvious that I didn't understand why she was pestering me. Wasn't she supposed to be our logistics expert?

I don't know if that's a good idea, Stripey chimed in. They use those screw pines for everything from weaving writing mats to building racks for drying fish. I'm not sure we should just cut them all down.

I threw up my wings in frustration. Then tell them what we need – space to house all these hostages – I mean guests, and let them figure it out! They'll concoct a solution that works for them and feel respected that we let them do it, and we won't have to think about it anymore. Win-win all around!

A brief silence as Floridiana and Stripey digested the full brilliance of my solution.

"She's not wrong...," Floridiana said slowly.

Hey!

Stripey ignored me. No, she isn't. This could actually be the best way to solve the problem....

Of course it is! I came up with it, didn't I?

For the life of me, I couldn't understand why Stripey arched his wings at Dusty and remarked, If I were you, I'd stop teasing her about addressing you as "Your Highness." I don't think anyone's going to survive if she fulfills that condition of hers.

Dusty snorted. "What condition? You mean taking over Heaven? As if she could."

I whacked him with my wing. He didn't even have the decency to pretend that it hurt.

And so our triumphal procession returned to Flying Fish Village right in time to participate in the festival that marked the end of the fishing season. As I had predicted, the villagers forgot their worries about feeding a doubled population once we explained the general pacification and proved it by dispatching Steelfang into the mountains to fetch extra mortal boars to serve at the feast. Then the elders decreed that they would celebrate not only the harvest, but also peace throughout the land. And with that, we had their support for the reunification of Serica.