Fox and Sparrow by Ginger Breo

Chapter 3

To Catch a Fox

Kit figured something like this was inevitable, after the way he'd been tempting fate lately. Hanging from a tree, eight feet off the ground, caught in a net, completely naked, was an unfortunate way for his lucky streak to end.

He knew this wasn't just some elaborate prank from the yuki-onna, either. She'd run away screaming and disappeared in a burst of snowflakes, clutching her kimono over herself. She was probably on some cold mountaintop right now, blaming him like it was his idea; he might like a little kink, but weird and elaborate bondage was not usually his cup of tea. She ought to have been grateful; after all, she could have been caught in this net along with him, but he'd decided to be a gentleman about it and shove her out of the way, and at a particularly—well, intense was a good word for it—moment as well. Now he was naked, caught, and a little sexually frustrated, which was never a great combination for someone of his constitution.

More troubling, of course, was the fact that he seemed to be having a little trouble changing form. Nothing to worry about. Possibly the exertions of the previous hour had tired him out a little, that was all. But as he swung slowly and swished his tails, he had to grudgingly accept that something, some property of the net perhaps, was keeping him from changing into any form that might more easily help him free himself. Even his fox-form had teeth he could have used on these ropes. Human form was useless for that kind of thing, with these short fingernails and dull, rounded little teeth. But concentrate as he might, nothing happened. He couldn't even conjure any fire. He realized he had to piss. He realized he was hungry. He wondered, with slight alarm, whether the hunter who had set this trap would be back any time soon, before he starved, or lost all feeling in his limbs, or passed out from exhaustion. He wondered with slightly more alarm if he wanted that hunter to return anytime soon, and what might happen when he or she did.

He heard a rustling and tensed, gripping the ropes. He didn't see anyone. "You're going to be disappointed!" he said loudly. "If you were hoping to catch a snake-woman or baku for wishes or something, you're out of luck! I can't grant wishes or poop gold or anything like that! And I make an ugly woman; believe me, I've tried it!" That part smarted a bit. He made quite a lovely fox-woman, when the mood struck him; he'd been female for at least a hundred of his three hundred years. But he had no interest in trying to seduce some amateur yokai hunter with a hard-on. The rustling stopped. Kit fell silent, waiting.

There was, of course, a chance that this trap had not been set by an amateur. There were poachers out there, and yokai-eaters, which were even worse. They'd catch him for his tails, to sell as charms, or bottle his blood to use as folk medicine—which worked far better than he wanted any humans to know about. And kitsune meat was a delicacy among the yokavores, as they called themselves. They wouldn't eat me, not in this form, he told himself, even as he renewed his struggles with the net. "I'm tough, you know!" he shouted at the air. "Rangy! Nothing but muscle—" Crap. What part did people eat? Which part didn't they want? "Fat! I'm all fat!" Was that the good part? Dammit, he'd been a vegetarian for three centuries! "Whatever part you like, that's the part I haven't got, so piss off!" he shouted.

The woods fell silent again.

"You know, you shouldn't even be out here. These woods are crawling with yokai!" The trees rustled again and an ōdokuro emerged, bones shifting slightly as the skeleton straightened to face him.

"You don't say," it hissed.

Kit instinctively tried to back away, making the net swing wildly. "There's a human hunter coming for me, you know!" he cried, clawing at the ropes, trying desperately to stretch the knots. The skeleton chittered its teeth together, its form of laughter, and his swinging came to a jerking halt when it gripped the net with one boney hand. It pulled Kit closer, and he smelled a graveyard on its breath. "If I was free, I'd tear you to pieces with my teeth," he growled, trying for bravery he couldn't manage to feel in this situation.