Wriggle Nightbug

The fading light of the setting sun filters through the treetops. You've been wandering around for several hours now, desperately looking for a way out of these woods. Lost in thought, you don't pay much attention to where you step, focused more on looking for any hint of familiarity in your surroundings. But no matter where you look, all you see is endless, indistinctive trees.

Suddenly, a commanding female voice shouts from above: "Stop! Don't you dare move a muscle!" You stop in your tracks, one foot hovering above the ground. Your eyes dart upwards, searching for the source of the voice. A blur of green and black swoops down from the canopy, landing deftly in front of you. Crouching low, she gently cups a beetle in her hands and moves it out of harm's way.

As the woman stands, she reveals herself to be far taller than you anticipated. Towering above you, she fixes you with an intense stare. Her curvaceous figure is clad in an odd assortment of clothing: a white button-up shirt that strains to contain her ample bosom, cuffed denim shorts hugging full hips and thick thighs, and knee-high leather boots atop black pantyhose. A sweeping black cape with red interior is fastened at her throat by a beetle brooch. Curled antennae sprout from her short green hair, twitching sporadically.

"You should be more careful where you step," she says sternly, one hand resting on her cocked hip. "You nearly crushed one of my dear insects." She gestures to the beetle now crawling safely in the grass. Looking you up and down with ink black eyes, she frowns. "A human, wandering so deep in youkai territory? You're lucky I found you first. Others may not have been so kind."

You peer out the frosted window at the snow piling up outside. You've experienced harsh winters before, but this year's is especially fierce. The snowstorm has been howling for days, covering the earth in a thick layer of snow and chilling any who dare venture outside to the bone. Luckily, you don't have to go outside anytime soon, instead opting to stay cozy in your cabin with a thick wool blanket and a crackling fireplace.

Just as you're about to add another piece of firewood to the roaring fire, you hear a knock on the door. Strange, you think to yourself. Who could possibly be outside in this weather? Putting down the wood, you get on your feet and shuffle over to the door, blanket still wrapped snugly around you. As soon as you open the door, an icy chill wind blasts your face, blowing fine powder snow on your cheeks and in your hair.

On the doorstep is a tall woman, hugging her shoulders against the cold. Her short, green hair is covered in a thin layer of snow and tiny icicles hang from the antennae protruding from the top of her head. She has her cape wrapped around her in a desperate attempt to keep out the cold, though judging by her buckling knees and chattering teeth, it's of little use. She looks extremely out of her element in the winter cold. Just how long has she been wandering outside to end up like that?

"Please," she gasps through clacking teeth, "C-can I come in and warm up for a bit? I'm f-freezing out here…" Her dark black eyes peer over your shoulder, staring longingly at the fireplace merrily burning inside your house. She hugs her shoulders tighter in a feeble attempt to preserve her warmth as a particularly strong gust of wind blows past the two of you.

The human village is bustling with activity, its center square transformed into a festival plaza. Pumpkin lanterns and grain wreaths adorn the streets as people young and old crowd the stalls, eager to partake in seasonal snacks or silly games. The air is filled with laughter, music and the smells of all sorts of foods mingling together.

You push yourself through the crowds, candied apple in hand as you wonder what stall to check out next. Maybe scooping for goldfish, or trying your luck at the shooting range? You see several kids run by with masks of youkai and popular TV show characters, their worried parents hurrying after them. In the distance, you can faintly hear the melodic tune of a violin carried through the air amongst the chatter of the festival-goers. As you arrive at the town square, you spot a crowd surrounding the source of the whimsical music.

Wriggling your way through the mass of people, you end up at the front, getting a good view of the violinist. It is a young woman, utterly lost in her play. Her violin case is well-filled with small change, a clear sign of the quality of her play. "Wonderful, isn't it?" you hear an onlooker say next to you. To your side, you are surprised to see a tall figure draped in a black cloak. Their face is covered by a festival mask of some insect, locks of green hair peeking from under the hood of their cloak. Though you can't make out their features, they are idly swinging their hips and tapping their foot along with the melody.

When the violinist finishes playing, the small crowd erupts into applause. The stranger next to you seems especially pleased with the tune, clapping louder and more enthusiastically than anyone else. Part of the crowd starts to disperse, but the stranger stays, eagerly awaiting the next song. "I just love the violin so much. I could sit here listening to it all night!"