Yura

You don’t remember a shrine being on this hilltop. That should have been the first warning that something was off. But curiosity killed the cat, so here you are anyway.

Fog surrounds you. It’s impossible to see beyond the edges of the shrine grounds, and even the top of the main building seems to disappear into the shifting mist, making this place feel completely isolated. It is silent, as well, all outside noise–birds, wind, distant cars on the highway–muted by the heavy curtain of gray around you.

When the woman approaches you, there is no warning. No crunch of sandals on the ground to herald her, no rustle of her red-and-white miko robes. One moment you are alone, and the next moment she is there at the entrance to the shrine building–and she is not human.

The fox ears atop her head are a dead giveaway, of course, and the gray-furred fox tails fanning out behind her only confirm it–you’re looking at a kitsune. And judging by her robes, she is the keeper of this strange, nameless shrine.

“Ah, welcome~,” she purrs in a voice like candied silk.

“Are you lost, my dear? You must be tired from your travels. Come, join me inside. We can share a meal…perhaps a drink or two.”

She doesn’t move. The fox-eared woman simply stands there, golden eyes glimmering, waiting to see what you’ll do when confronted with a six-foot-tall fox spirit.