The Heart of a Fox

by T. Isilwath

  “Joanna-sama!” he called, praying that she could hear him over the roar of the water and answer. “Joanna-sama, I’m here! Where are you?” There was no answer and he howled in frustration. He’d come so far; he couldn’t imagine not finding her now. It was impossible. She had to be there.

  “Joanna-sama!”

  He dropped to his knees, putting his nose to the ground in hopes of picking up her scent, but there was nothing.

  “Joanna-sama! Joanna-sama, please!” he cried as loudly as he could before he broke out in another fit of coughing.

  The heaves wracked his body, making his head spin from lack of air, and he spit up more water before resting his forehead on the ground. He was shaking violently, and the cold chill in the wind was seeping into his bones.

  ‘Joanna, where are you? Where could you have gone? Kami-sama, please if there are any of you that are listening, please help me. Please help me find my vixen. Inari, God of the Rice, patron of all kitsune, please help me. Please. Please, help me,’ he prayed.

  A sharp gust of wind blew into the enclave, and he felt a familiar tingle crawl up the back of his neck, making the fine hairs there stand on end. He was just raising his head to see what it was when he heard what he could have sworn was a deep, throaty growl. Lifting his eyes, he kept bringing them up until he found the source of the growl, and his jaw dropped.

  Standing on the rocks at the very top of the waterfall was an enormous cat.

  Its coat was golden, the color of dried rice stalks or ripe barley, and its eyes were the same color only slightly darker. It looked at him with intensity as it growled again, and he felt the sound reverberating inside his chest. He stared, unable to move or make a noise, until he realized that he could see right through the beast.

  ‘Spirit cat…’ He blinked and remembered what Joanna had said about totems. Hers was a big cat. No, it was a… “Cougar,” he breathed.

  The cougar flicked its tail and turned, disappearing out of sight. He scrambled to his feet, prepared to climb the rocks up to the top to follow it when it reappeared on the ledge beside the base of the waterfall. He could see the spray from the water through the translucent body.

  “Cougar-sama! Spirit totem of my Joanna, did Inari send you to help me find my vixen?” he asked, taking a stumbling step forward.

  The spirit cat growled in answer, then turned its head to look at the falling water. His eyes followed where it was looking, focusing on the water and trying to figure out what the cat was trying to tell him.

  ‘The waterfall? Is she in the waterfall?’ Squinting, he thought he could see a dark shadow on the other side. ‘No! Behind the waterfall!’ “Cougar-sama! Is she behind the waterfall?” he questioned, then stopped short when he saw that the spirit cat had vanished.

  It was no matter. The cat’s message had been clear, and he rushed to the waterfall, wading through the plunge pool to climb onto the ledge. As soon as he cleared the falls, he saw the cave and headed right for it.

  The first scent he caught was the strong odor of overripe fruit mixed with urine, followed by the unmistakable scent of his vixen. The smell drove away all of his fatigue and weakness as he hurried forward, his heart pounding.

  “Joanna!” he cried, dropping the –sama honorific in his panic.

  He saw her as soon as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. She was lying at the very back of the cave, motionless and silent, and she did not respond when he grabbed her shoulder.

  “Joanna-sama, I’m here. I found you,” he told her, shaking her lightly.

  She didn’t answer, and her clothes felt damp and cold. He called a small ball of foxfire into his palm to light the cave so he could see her better, and his heart clenched at what he saw. She was pale, her lips bluish, and her body limp. He could tell that she was still alive, but just barely.

  “Joanna-sama!”

  Quickly he pulled the piece of maitake mushroom from inside of his kosode and showed it to her.

  “Look, Joanna-sama. I found the maitake. It will make you better.” He practically ripped open her pack and yanked out one of her shallow metal dishes, then he filled the bottom of the dish with a little water and snatched a palm-sized, rounded stone from the streambed, venturing out of the cave only long enough to grab the rock and return. Using the rock as a pestle in the dish, he tore off small pieces of the prized mushroom and pounded them into a thick paste. When it was done, he reached for his vixen.

  “Joanna-sama! Joanna-sama, you have to wake up. You have to eat this to get better,” he pleaded, shaking her roughly.

  She moaned, and her eyes fluttered open, but they did not focus on him.

  ‘Is she blind?’ he wondered.

  “Joanna-sama, I’m going to feed you the maitake. I’ve made it into a paste so it will be easy to swallow.”

  He lifted her into his arms, bracing her shoulder against his chest so she was sitting up, and took her chin in his hand. He pried open her mouth so he could put some of the paste into it. It was a thick mess so he scraped his fingers on her lower teeth just to make sure she had gotten all of it, and then washed the paste down her throat with a sip of water. He tipped her head back as she instinctively swallowed, and he was glad that she still retained that reflex otherwise he would have had no way of getting the medicine into her. He repeated the process, carefully and gently feeding her the medicine.

  Towards the end, he could feel her slipping back into unconsciousness, and he struggled not to hurry. She went limp soon after, and he knew that he wouldn’t get any more of the paste into her. Luckily, most of it was gone. He laid her back down on the cave floor and wiped her mouth.

  “There, Joanna-sama. You’ll feel better soon,” he promised, brushing her cheek with the back of his palm. “Oh, your skin is so cold. Let me light a fire and we can both get warm.”

  He knew he had to leave the cave in order to find wood, and he didn’t have anything dry to cover her with. He was reluctant to leave her side, but he wasn’t sure how much of a choice he had. Frowning, he looked around the cave and took note of the damp walls and overall moisture in the small space.

  ‘It’s too wet in here to light a fire. I could never keep it burning under these conditions,’ he realized.

  “Joanna-sama. Joanna-sama, we can’t stay here. It’s too wet. I have to take us someplace dry and safe.”

  Of course, the only place he could think of that fit those criteria was the sacred grove. He ruled out bringing her back to the shrine because he didn’t know how Joanna had gotten the poison, and he wasn’t about to take the chance that Ichiro really did want Joanna dead. But the grove of ancient cedars was at least five ri away, and he didn’t know if he had that much strength left in him.

  ‘It’s Joanna. It’s your vixen. You’ll find the strength,’ he argued, gritting his teeth. ‘Your father was the great Kazehiro. You have his blood flowing in your veins. Would you shame him and his memory by being too weak to save the one you love?’

  “Joanna-sama, I’m going to carry you out of here to where we’ll be safe,” he told her as he knelt beside her and slipped his arms underneath her body.

  Lifting her up, he turned and wedged his shoulder under her, positioning himself so that she would drape across his back when he stood up. He wrapped the strap of the black pack around both of them, essentially binding them together, and used the blanket shawl as a large sling to tie her to his waist. When he was done, her arms were over his shoulders, and her head slumped limply against the back of his neck, but he gripped her wrists tightly and pulled her close as he slowly began to make his way out of the cave.

  Unfortunately, he had to wade into the plunge pool for a few steps, but soon he was clear of the water and on dry ground. He took a moment to adjust her weight and tighten the shawl before starting out again, his back heavily stooped in order to keep her body balanced. The way was slow going, and he stopped frequently to rest, but every time he was certain that he couldn’t take another step, he found the strength to pick her u
p and carry her just a little further.

  It was full dark by the time he finally made it to the grove of cedars, and he practically toppled over the moment he entered the sacred space. His newfound ability to hear the voice of the trees allowed him to hear the gentle welcomes of the forest giants that formed the grove, and he was glad to be back in one of the few places where he had ever considered himself to be safe.

  :Welcome, Fox. Welcome Tree-sister,: they said, their voices in his head.

  They were old voices, voices that had seen the passage of centuries. As he placed Joanna gently down on the dry ground he felt the trees’ sadness at her condition. :Tree-sister wanes.:

  “No,” he said aloud. “I will save her. I won’t let her die.”

  :Winter-Sleep comes to us all, Fox,: the king tree answered as he lay his vixen near the great, gnarled roots.

  “I’ll save her,” he vowed and the trees quieted.

  Although it had been weeks since they had last been in the grove, the pile of firewood that he and Joanna had gathered was still there, and he took several logs and branches from the store. Then he used a handful of dry grass and pine needles as tinder and scraped two stones together to make a spark to light the fire. Soon the flames were igniting the dry twigs and small branches, creating a base of ash to light the larger wood. He positioned Joanna near to the warmth and spread her blanket shawl to dry on the rope hung between the trees.

  His vixen’s clothing was still wet, and her skin was still pale and cold. He knew he had to get her out of the damp, soiled clothes as soon as possible, and he was thankful that some of Joanna’s belongings were still in the hollow under the king tree. In fact, her large suitcase on wheels was still tucked into the very rear of the shelter along with her bow and several piles of scavenged supplies.

  When he was rested and fed, he would go back to the shrine and retrieve the rest of her things, but for now what he had would suffice.

  He took two blankets from the pile of bedclothes, recognizing them as two of the ones she had used to cover him when he was sick from the oni-gumo poison, and pulled out a set of her “sweat clothes:” soft pants and a long-sleeved shirt made from thick, warm fabric. He’d never seen her naked, and a small part of his fox brain registered how ironic it was that their situations were now reversed as he carefully removed her dirty clothing.

  He gasped and blinked back tears when he saw her body. She was covered with bruises and lacerations, and she looked like a famine victim who had been starving to death for weeks. Her ribs were showing, the bones of her pelvis protruded out from her hips, and her abdomen and groin area were sunken in. He knew that she had been losing weight, but he hadn’t realized how thin she had become until now.

  ‘Joanna… How could this have been happening and I not know about it?

  How could you have kept this from me?’

  Obviously she had been trying to protect him from the true horror of her disease by hiding her condition under loose clothing.

  ‘Oh, my beloved. You suffered all of this in silence in order to spare me the pain. Had I but known…’

  He looked down at his wrist, at the pulsing blue vein just under his skin, as tears brimmed in his eyes again.

  ‘My blood might be able to save you. I was afraid to try because I didn’t know if it would work. If I had known that it would come to this, I would have told you sooner and we could have tried. But now…’

  He reached for her wrist, holding it as it flopped limply in his grasp. All he had to do was cut the vein, then pour his own blood into the wound. His blood would fuse with hers and cure her. At least, that is what would happen if he were a full-blooded kitsune, but he wasn’t, and he had no idea how she would react.

  ‘It might kill her… But she is dying anyway.’

  He pressed his sharp nail to her pale flesh, prepared to puncture the soft, throbbing pulse point, but once again his indecision stopped him.

  ‘She’d be bound to me forever. She could never go home. Even if her betrothed came for her, she would already be tied to me. Would he try to kill her? Would she even accept the bond?’

  With a choked sob, he dropped her wrist. He couldn’t do it. Not without her consent. The ritual was sacred; it bonded mates for life. If he were to do it without her agreement, it would be worse than rape.

  ‘My only hope is for the maitake to heal her enough for her to wake up and tell me what she wants. She only needs to wake up for a few moments, then I will know if she is willing to take the risk and be bound to me.’

  Checking her wounds carefully, he made sure that she had no open sores that needed medical attention. She was badly banged up and bruised, probably by the river tumbling her over in the rapids, but she didn’t have any broken bones. That in itself was a miracle, but her good fortune was worthless if she died anyway. He was still concerned about the possibility of infection, however, so he took the time to gently lick each of her lacerations.

  Her skin tasted horrible, but the worst was her scent. It was sickly sweet and almost nauseating. He’d smelled her scent when her blood sugars were too high before, but she hadn’t smelled anything like this. In a way, though, he was glad that the scent was so distinctive. It meant that he would know immediately when the maitake began to work because the strong odor would fade, and he decided to give her another dose of the mushroom as soon as he got her dressed.

  He used the cleaner parts of her dirty clothes to wipe off her body and try to clean her up a little. When they were both feeling better, he’d help her take a bath in the stream, but for now the meager wipe-off would have to do. Once he had her clothed, wrapped in blankets, and placed by the fire for even more warmth, he took the time to strip out of his own sodden clothes and change into dry garments while he waited for water to heat up on the fire. He took the remainder of the maitake and pounded it into the same paste he’d made before only this time he used warm water. He made it a little thinner as well so it would trickle down her throat more easily. Then he roused Joanna again and gave her the mixture in small portions.

  When he had finished feeding her the mushroom paste, he banked the fire and took his place beside his vixen. All of the energy and strength he had managed to garner in order to bring his beloved to safety was now fading, and he was fading with it. Lying next to her, he gathered Joanna into his arms and curled his body around hers, holding her tight for both comfort and warmth.

  The situation was still dire; she was still unconscious and unresponsive, and her heartbeat and breathing were slow and faint, but he had found her and she was still alive. That meant that there was at least some hope. Once he was rested, he would sneak back to the shrine and retrieve Joanna’s things plus the rest of the maitake, making sure that no one saw him come or go. He doubted that they’d ever return to the village, even if Joanna did live, and he found that he was all right with that. As long as he had his vixen, he had all he needed.

  Sending out one more silent prayer to Inari for help and guidance, he pulled Joanna as close to his body as possible and let the darkness take him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When Akihiro opened his eyes again it was almost dawn and Joanna had not improved. It worried him that his vixen did not seem to be responding to the maitake, and he really didn’t understand why it wasn’t working. His fears that maybe Ichiro or Hiroshi had done something to Joanna grew, but he had no way of finding out short of disguising himself and trying to get the information out of someone who might know. Unfortunately, he wasn’t willing to expend the energy it would take to cast an illusion using his currently diminished power, nor was he willing to leave Joanna’s side for any longer than absolutely necessary.

  He knew he would have to leave her alone for a short time that morning because he had to return to the shrine. He wasn’t happy about having to go, but he knew that he had no choice. He took enough time to wrap his vixen in more blankets and place her in the hollow before hurrying off to the shrine.

  It was just before daw
n when he arrived, and he snuck quietly into the room they had stayed in and gathered up the belongings that she had left behind. There wasn’t much because Joanna had always insisted on keeping most of her things in the sacred grove in order to prevent others from examining the belongings from her time, but there were a few items of clothing, her sleeping bag, and, of course, her beloved Iris. The fact that his vixen had left the gitaa to him spoke volumes about how deep her feelings ran. Of all of her things, Iris was one of the most prized, and she would not have bequeathed it to him if she had not felt him worthy of it.

  Looking around, he noticed that Kaemon had complied with his request and left the bag of maitake where he had dropped it. He grabbed the bag and began moving quickly about the room. The carrying sack with the maitake served double duty as he placed as much of Joanna’s clothing, the ingredients to Oshou Seigo’s tea, and other things inside it. He needed to do everything in one trip if he didn’t want to be discovered. Thankfully, Iris was in her carrying pack with a shoulder harness so he could strap her to his back.

  Once he had everything, he slipped out of the room and silently closed the shoji door. He paused for only a moment on the edge of the engawa, his eyes directly level with the bell that had once been used to call him to the shrine.

  The house and its surrounding grounds had been his only sanctuary for decades (albeit a tentative one), and a small part of him found his leaving a little bittersweet. It was entirely possible that he would never see Suzuka or Kaemon ever again, and he wished that he could take the time to say goodbye, but he knew that he shouldn’t dally. Instead he reached into the carrying sack and grabbed two of the smaller shitake mushrooms that he had harvested in the same ravine as the maitake.

  Pulling them out, he placed them carefully on top of the bell where they would easily be seen and left them there. Shitake was prized for its medicinal properties in much the same way as maitake; it just wasn’t as valuable because it was more common. Still, the gift of two shitake mushrooms was a significant one, and its meaning would not be lost on the recipients. It was all the message he could leave for the humans who had once shown him a small bit of kindness.