Private Fox in the Hen House

[Odette Tourmalet]

Curtains parted as pale fingers sought the clasp that opened the glass window. It was only a sliver, but the slight breeze was refreshing in the stuffy carriage. Odette could practically smell the color green, the wind carried the fresh smell of pine and birch, various aromatic grasses that had recently been rained on. If only she wasn't stuck in her moving tomb. A slender hand brushed fiery hair from her shoulders as she glanced down at the stitching she had just done. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, realizing she had made a mistake and would have to undo part of it and start again. Still, it was worth it. Her brother had been gone from home almost as much as she had, so she thought that perhaps she'd make him a gift that he could bring with next time he had to leave to attend to his diplomatic duties.

Her absence from home was purely to rotate her around to various suitors in hopes of securing a good diplomatic marriage. She hadn't yet met a man that wasn't full of himself or that actually took interest in her as a person. Part of that may be her fault though, she was shy and quiet. She considered herself quite plain and unexciting, she knew her only job was to marry and have babies. What was there to look forward in that? A wheel hit a bump in the road, and she exclaimed lightly as her needle poked her delicate finger. Crimson pooled to form a bubble and she sighed; she placed her finger between her lips to stop it from dripping on her or her work. Pricking her finger was bad luck, she always had something bad happen afterwards. Her own little superstition.

After a few moments, she checked her finger, satisfied that it was done bleeding. She bent to resume her needlework when the carriage slowed and then eventually rolled to a stop. Odette knew they weren't anywhere close to home yet, and her heart began to bead like a trapped bird against her breast. Blue eyes closed as she listened, the only sound she heard was that of the horse snorting in its own frustration. Many minutes went past, and then even more before Odette plucked up the courage to open the door and step outside.

The sun filtered through the trees, and the breeze danced quietly through her hair. She squinted her blue eyes as she rounded the front of the carriage. Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. Her driver was slumped over, the reigns dropping from a stilled hand. She fought the urge to scream and faint, though her eyes did flutter for a moment. He was obviously dead, and she had not prepared to see such a horrible sight. Panic set in, had they been attacked? Should she flee? She couldn't even take the horse; she had never learned to ride. Not knowing what else to do, she ducked back inside, though she had left the door open just in case. Surely someone would come looking for her, right?

@Momoshiro Komori

 

[Momoshiro]

The forest had gone quiet.

Not the peaceful kind of quiet that followed a rainfall, when the world seemed content to slow down and listen to the gentle rhythm of water dripping from the leaves. This was different. This silence carried weight. It settled over the trees unnaturally, pressing against the branches and roots as though the forest itself had become wary of whatever had passed through it.

Momo noticed.

He always noticed.

The foxkin moved between the trees with an effortless familiarity, his steps light enough that even the fallen leaves beneath his feet barely stirred. One hand brushed against the rough bark of an old birch as he passed, his fingers lingering for only a moment as though he were listening to something hidden beneath the surface. His white ears twitched, his tail stopped swaying. The forest spoke in ways most people never learned to understand. It remembered every creature that wandered beneath its canopy, every broken branch, every disturbed patch of earth.

This thing had left behind very little.

That was what made it so easy to follow.

This particular cursed spirit did not move like an animal or even other spirits. It did not leave footprints or broken branches in its wake. It left absence. It left places where birds stopped singing and insects disappeared. It left patches of dying grass and trees that seemed to lean away from its presence. The world rejected it, and Momo had learned long ago how to follow the places where the world went wrong.

He had been tracking the spirit since morning.

It had drifted from the outskirts of the nearby settlements and into the deeper woods, drawn by the lingering traces of fear and suffering that clung to the land. Cursed spirits were strange things. They were not born the way living creatures were. They were formed from what people left behind — grief, anger, hatred, desperation — emotions that became something far more dangerous when given enough time to gather.

This one had found something.

A place.

A person.

Momo stopped suddenly, his head tilting slightly as the faintest sound reached his ears.

A horse.

His eyes shifted toward the trees ahead, and the unnatural stillness around him seemed to confirm what he already suspected. The trail he had been following had not ended.

It had arrived.

Moments later, the carriage came into view.

It sat awkwardly along the road, abandoned in a way that immediately told him something had gone wrong. The horse shifted nervously in place, its ears twitching as it watched the surrounding woods with the uneasy awareness of an animal that sensed a predator nearby.

Momo approached slowly, his gaze moving first toward the driver.

The answer was immediate.

The man was dead.

But not from an ordinary accident.

He studied the scene quietly, his expression unreadable as he examined the signs left behind. The position of the body. The lingering chill in the air. The faint residue of something unnatural clinging to the carriage like a stain that refused to fade.

The spirit had attacked here.

And judging by the trail it had left behind, it had not gone far.

Momo's attention shifted toward the open carriage door.

For a moment, he simply watched.

Most people would have called out. They would have announced themselves, offered reassurance, tried to sound less threatening than they appeared. Momo had never been very good at doing things the way other people did. He had never understood why people spent so much time pretending they were not afraid, or why they filled silence with unnecessary words.

Instead, he stepped closer and crouched beside the doorway, peering into the dim interior.

"You're still alive."

The statement was quiet and matter-of-fact, as though he had simply noticed the weather had changed.

His gaze remained fixed on the figure inside for another moment before he gave a warm smile.

"Good."

His eyes briefly moved back toward the fallen driver before returning to the carriage.

"Something bad happened here," he said, his voice carrying the same strange calmness that seemed to follow him everywhere. "But... you already know that."

There was something unsettling about the way Momo reacted to danger. Most people saw death and monsters as things to fear, things that existed outside the normal order of the world. To him, they were simply things that existed. A storm. A broken tree. A wounded animal.

A problem.

And problems could be solved.

The air shifted behind him.

Momo's expression changed slightly, the only indication that his attention had been drawn away from the carriage. His red eyes moved toward the trees, toward the same darkness he had been following all day.

The cursed spirit was still nearby.

Watching.

Waiting.

His head tilted as though he were listening to a voice only he could hear, and for the first time since arriving, something resembling annoyance crossed his features.

"You made a mess."

The words were quiet, almost conversational, but they were not directed toward Odette.

Momo rose to his feet, turning toward the forest. The strange presence lingered between the trees, hiding just beyond sight, but he could feel it there. It had taken a life. It had fed on that fear.

It hadn't finished it's meal though.

His attention returned briefly to the carriage.

"Stay here."

A pause followed.

Momo looked toward the woods, then back again, considering the situation.

"Actually..."

His brow furrowed slightly.

"Don't stay here."

He gestured vaguely toward the surrounding forest, as though that explanation should have been enough.

"Here is dangerous."

And somehow, impossibly, that was his attempt at reassurance.

He was not standing there like a knight arriving to rescue someone. He did not carry himself like a hero seeking gratitude or recognition. He was simply a strange man who had followed something terrible through the woods and happened to find someone caught in its path.

To Odette, he might have looked like another mystery waiting to unfold.

But to Momo, the situation was much simpler.

Something dangerous was nearby.

And he intended to stop it...

 

[Odette Tourmalet]

It had been some time, and Odette grew weary of waiting. She had no idea what she should do, if only her brother or even Lysanne had been with her. They would know exactly what to do, they wouldn't be helpless and useless in the situation the delicate redhead had found herself in. Odette fiddled with her hands, not quite sure what to do with them as she sat and awaited whatever fate had in store for her. Finally, after a small while she decided to pick up her needle once more, losing herself a little in her project.

She hadn't noticed his presence, so when he spoke she lept from her seat a gasp leaving her supple lips as her hand met her throat in surprise. Her eyes wide, her chest heaving as she studied the face that had peeked into her small sanctuary.

"What do you mean something bad? Do you know what happened to my driver?" Odette was to naive to be afraid of the man that had shattered her lonely silence. He had a gentle face, and she found that she wasn't at all afraid of him. Maybe it was the soft looking ears upon his head that made him seem so innocent.

His attention drifted from her, and she gave a slight huff as he spoke quietly under his breath. "Excuse me? What do you mean a mess? What is going on." It wasn't often that she acted petulant, but her noble side was showing, and her fear was increasing by the minute.

His added instructions were equally confusing, what was so dangerous? He was the only other person she had seen. "Where am I meant to go then? I don't understand what's happening!" Exasperated, she pushed her way out of the carriage, dress brushing the ground with a soft swish. She reached out and snagged his sleeve, a desperate plea in her eyes begging for some clarity and help from a man she didn't even know. A man with a very fluffy tail. "Please don't leave me. I'm afraid. I don't know what to do."

@Momoshiro Komori

 

[Momoshiro]

The gentle tug at his sleeve stopped him far more effectively than any shouted plea could have.

Momo looked down at the delicate hand clutching the yellow fabric of his robe, then slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. Fear was easy to recognize. It looked different on everyone, yet it always found its way into the eyes. Hers trembled behind a brave face that was trying very hard not to come apart.

For a long moment, he simply looked at her.

Then his gaze drifted to the carriage behind her, where the lingering imprint of death still clung stubbornly to the driver's seat. Tiny wisps of pale light floated around the old man, already beginning to separate from what remained of his body. They wandered without direction, confused, like smoke searching for a sky that was no longer there.

"He died."

The words were quiet, spoken with neither cruelty nor softness. They were simply true.

Momo looked back toward the trees.

"But he wasn't alone."

The forest beyond the road remained still, yet he could feel it. Somewhere between the trunks, just beyond sight, the Shroud stirred against itself like dark water disturbed by an unseen current. Whatever had taken the driver's life hadn't wandered away aimlessly.

It was waiting.

His white ears twitched, catching a sound that never reached human ears, and the tip of his tail slowed its gentle swaying.

"It doesn't like being followed."

Only then did he seem to realize that none of what he had said would have made sense to her.

His attention returned to the hand gripping his sleeve. She was shaking.

"Oh."

The quiet realization escaped him almost sheepishly.

"You can't see it."

There was no judgment in his voice, only the dawning understanding that they were looking at two very different worlds.

Momo turned slightly, placing himself between Odette and the dark treeline without seeming to think about it. The movement was instinctive, as natural as stepping beneath a roof when rain began to fall.

"That's alright."

His voice remained calm, almost curious, as though reassuring frightened strangers was something he was only just learning how to do.

"I can."

His crimson eyes searched the woods once more before returning to her.

"I was following it before it found your carriage."

A brief silence settled between them.

"I think..."

His brow furrowed.

"...it was hoping I would stop."

The thought didn't seem to frighten him. If anything, it only deepened his curiosity.

Finally, Momo glanced at the hand still wrapped around his sleeve. He didn't pull away. Instead, his expression softened ever so slightly.

"You don't have to stay by yourself."

It wasn't a grand promise or a heroic declaration.

Just a simple fact.

"I won't leave you."

His attention drifted back toward the trees, his ears flicking once more as though listening to something hidden beyond the wind.

"...But it might not leave us."