The Fox's God Read Online Free PDF Page A

took notes, his brush moving fast and messily, and muttered words like “fascinating” and “impossible.” When she was done talking and he was done muttering, he said, “Your brother’s case is certainly unusual. Normally, a fox’s strength wanes in a slow and regular manner, until they become trapped. But these swords’ bite must tear uneven chunks of energy out of people. I would venture to guess it is akin to a psychic wound.”
    Hope felt like a lovely sunrise, bringing light after darkness. Psychic wounds were invisible wounds to the mind or aura and they usually healed with time and rest.
    You think he’ll heal? Completely?
    “Not quite,” Maru said, “but his strength will redistribute to compensate, to fill the holes. If the bites were serious, the mending itself might cost energy. He might be able to shift without pain once the healing is done, but he might also be trapped in whatever shape he happens to be in at the time. Tell him he must not use his bleeding red ability. A single use might push him beyond recovery.”
    Yes, but… If they’re going to slay a god, or something similar, he will need every bit of extra strength he can muster.
    “He’ll have to make the same choice any older fox has to make when danger comes. Hold off, or use the strength and run the risk of losing all shifting powers. In his case, I suspect it’s not so much a risk than a certainty. If he disturbs his body’s attempt to mend properly, he almost certainly will not shift again.”
    I see. I will tell him.
    Maru could have been wrong. He’d admitted he’d never seen anything quite like this before. But he sounded so certain healing was possible. She wouldn’t withhold this hope from her brother, if only because it might encourage him to be cautious and let himself heal.
    She enjoyed her parents’ company for as long as she dared. Always something whispered in the back of her mind that her brother was skilled at finding trouble when she wasn’t looking. Or, sometimes, even when she was.
    Her last stop was the shortest. Advisor Yoshida, she said to the man poring over scrolls in a room lit with several lamps to combat the evening’s darkness. Do inform the emperor that the ship has landed in the north. There have been no incidents so far. We will proceed onward.
    Sanae left. That stop had been but a courtesy. And a warning, too, a reminder she could travel faster than the wind. If the Emperor or his men tried to turn against the Fox clan or hurt Akakiba, they had no hope of keeping the knowledge from reaching the clan through her.
    Back north she went, quickly, quickly. Over such vast distances, she couldn’t use a familiar person’s life spark as guide. Instead, she traveled due north, popping in and out of the spirit world as she went. Forest, forest, village, forest, river, forest—sea!
    She’d have expected to find fewer spirits in the sea than in the forest, but the opposite was true—the bottom of the sea was its own kind of wilderness. At least until she approached the north coast, where the spirits were fewer and larger. The small ones must have fled.
    The first spark she identified was Aito’s, framed by three of his familiars. Ah, the fourth one was all the way over there, near Yuki, Jien, and Akakiba.
    She popped into the physical world. Aito, what is everybody else doing away from camp?
    “They went to the village to gather information and stayed the night. I can tell they’re well.” Aito didn’t look at her as he spoke; he was busy pricking his skin with a needle dipped in ink. There was already enough ink under his skin to form a large blob. How odd.
    Why are you tattooing yourself? I wasn’t aware you were a criminal.
    Aito’s smile was a bolt of lightning, bright and ephemeral. “There are other uses. Look.”
    One of Aito’s familiars seeped into the needle wounds. The ink began to move, edges shifting and stretching until the former shapeless blob was artfully shaped into a songbird.