“Oh, I see,” she murmured. Yumei would probably disagree with their claim over all forests in the world.
“But Mai,” one of the others whispered, “you forgot the misty valley.”
The leader of the four deflated a little. “Oh, yes, the misty valley. That is not ours. But you should not go there!”
“I shouldn’t?”
“No. Definitely not.” It looked her over from head to toe. “You are too soft. You would die.”
One of the yokai leaned toward the leader and whispered in his ear.
“Oh! Oh, yes.” The creature drew itself up to its full, diminutive height. “Human! If you teach us this toboggan game, we will allow you to stay in our land so you don’t have to go into the misty valley.”
“That’s very generous of you,” she said carefully. “What’s wrong with the misty valley?”
“No one who goes into the valley comes out again.” It nodded firmly. “Especially humans. You are not a bad human, so we will let you stay here instead—if you promise to obey us.”
A valley where humans disappeared, never to return? She pressed her lips together. “Where is the valley? I don’t want to go there by accident.”
All four yokai simultaneously pointed north.
“That way. It is always misty. Don’t go into the mist, and you will be safe.” It puffed out its chest. “We will protect you.”
“Thank you.”
They all grinned at each other, looking incredibly pleased with themselves.
“Show us the game!” the leader commanded.
Forcing her thoughts away from the ominous misty valley, she carried the wooden board to the edge of the hillside and laid it on the snow. She’d never tobogganed, but she’d seen other children do it. With a little effort, she bent the front edge of the thin wood up to form a lip; it was as flexible as the sheet of bark it had started as, though it no longer resembled bark.
“Sit on the wood,” she told them, “and push yourselves forward. Then you will slide like humans do.”
The four yokai rushed enthusiastically to the makeshift sled and jumped onto it. Emi gave the back end a firm shove. The smooth wood slid into motion as gravity caught it. The yokai squealed delightedly as they picked up a little speed. After a few yards, however, their momentum petered out and the sled came to a stop on top of the snow.
“We didn’t slide down the mountain!” the leader exclaimed angrily. “You tricked us!”
“No, no,” she said quickly, wading through the calf-deep snow to join them. “You just weigh a lot less than humans.”
She frowned at the sled and the relatively gentle incline, then scrutinized the sunlit valley below, smooth except for a winding hump in the center like a low, oblong hill. Maybe they should move farther down the slope and try there, where it was a bit steeper.
“You are heavy,” the yokai said suddenly. “You can help.”
“What?”
“Get on!”
“I—no, I couldn’t possibly—”
“Get on now or we will punish you for your disobedience!”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. They were awfully bossy for being so tiny. With the gentle slope and hill at the bottom to absorb their momentum, she supposed there was no harm in it. And this would probably be her only chance to try tobogganing before her opportunities to experience new things were gone forever.
Sorrow whispered through her at the thought but she quickly pushed it away and approached the sled. The yokai hopped off and she sat, keeping one foot in the snow so the sled wouldn’t move. The redheaded creatures piled on with her, two leaping fearlessly into her lap and the other two hanging onto the back of her kimono. She blinked at the tops of their heads, stunned that she had strange, wild yokai sitting on her.
“Are you ready?” she asked, pulling her thoughts together.
“Let’s go, let’s go!”
Swallowing hard, she used her foot to nudge the sled into motion. They glided slowly, gaining a little speed. Clutching the front of the sled, she leaned forward and their speed increased, the breeze teasing her hair. The sled picked up momentum and the icy wind brushed against her cheeks.
Just as the nose of the sled dipped down, she realized the bright sun and shadowless snow had disguised the actual grade of the slope.
The sled zoomed down the steepening incline, gaining speed. Her ponytail whipped out behind them and her wide eyes watered from the wind. The world rushed by in a blur as they rocketed toward the valley floor.
The wild, ecstatic laughter of the yokai rang over the roar of wind in her ears. As the sled sailed over the smooth snow, scarcely touching the ground, her fear dissipated. She let out her own laugh as adrenaline-spiked excitement rushed through her. They whooshed down the slope as the valley leveled out. The humplike hill rose in front of them, but they were going too fast for the ascent to stop them. They shot up the side of the hill.
And then they were airborne.
The sled flew out from under her and a piercing scream escaped her as she glimpsed the dark band of rocks on the other side of the hill, shining in the sun.
And then she landed in the creek with an enormous splash.
The arctic water engulfed her, the painful cold seizing her muscles. She hit the rocky bottom and thrashed in a panic before getting her feet under her. She burst out of the waist-deep water. Freezing liquid poured off her and she gasped for air, flailing toward the rocky bank. Out of the water—she had to get out of the water. She could already feel the sharp claws grabbing her legs, and she could hear Hana screaming inside her head.
Grabbing at the rocks, she hauled herself out of the creek, gasping and panting. She crawled away from the bank until her arms gave out and she thumped down in the snow.
“We did it!” the four yokai squealed, exclaiming excitedly over one another. “We did it!”
“Human!” the leader cried happily. “We will slide again now! Human, are you—Oh.” The final sound came out in a frightened gasp.
Gulping down air and quivering from head to toe, Emi lifted her head, her teeth chattering loudly.
“What in the name of Yomi are you doing?”
She blinked slowly as her searching gaze found black hakama a few paces in front of her. She dragged her head up to meet a disbelieving ruby stare. Towering over her with his hands on his hips, Shiro shook his head incredulously.
Something thumped on top of her. With the press of tiny feet, all four yokai piled on her back.
“This human is ours!” the leader squeaked aggressively, slapping the top of her head with a small hand. “Go find your own human.”
Shiro’s expression of disbelief slid away and his eyes narrowed to slits as they focused on the yokai. “She’s mine.”
“We found it first! It belongs to us!” Unfamiliar ki singed the air. “We will not let you take it away from us!”
“She belongs to me. Use your nose, imp.”
“What? What do you …”
All four yokai sniffed loudly.
“The human smells like the kitsune,” one of them whispered.
“The human must belong to him.”
“No fair.”
“But we found it.”
After a loud sigh, the leader declared irritably, “We accept your prior claim.”
“Good. Now get off her.” He strode forward and the yokai hopped away. Grabbing her arms, he pulled her up. She tried to get her feet under her.
“Sh-sh-shi-r-r-ro,” she chattered, her whole body quaking with violent shivers as icy water dripped off her. “I d-d-didn’t m-m-mean t-t-to—”
He scooped her into his arms, heedless of her drenched clothes. She pressed into his warmth, shaking even harder.
“Kodama!” he barked. “You damaged my human. I demand recompense.”
A tiny voice grumbled, “We didn’t damage it.”
“You got her wet in the cold. Humans are fragile and she needs warmth before she sickens. Your payment is to br
ing all the dry wood you can find to the spot where the three boulders meet the cliff. You know that spot?”
“Yes,” the yokai squeaked reluctantly. “We will bring wood.”
“Don’t waste any time. Go!” he barked, and the yokai jumped in fright before dashing off through the snow.
Holding her tight to him, Shiro launched back up the valley slope. She attempted to hold her jaw still but the chattering was unstoppable.
“Idiot miko,” he growled. “Why are you messing around with kodama? They look harmless, but they’re sneaky little imps with dangerous magic.”
“I-I-I d-did-d-dn’t-t—”
“Don’t talk,” he snapped as he reached the top of the slope.
She flinched at his tone and hid her face against his kosode, now almost as wet as her clothes. Her soaked hair slapped at her back with each movement. If she’d had the chance to think about it first, she would have expected Shiro to laugh at her for being stupid and falling in a creek. Why did he seem so angry?
He stopped just long enough to grab her bow and supply bag before shooting into the trees. The forest rushed by, dappled shadows and spots of bright sun flashing in her eyes. Soon, he was skidding to a stop again. She lifted her head to find them in the center of a round space with a cliff wall on one side and three large boulders forming a wall on the other side. Trees leaned over the bowl-like spot, their overhanging branches adding another layer of insulation. Only a thin film of snow covered the carpet of fallen leaves.
A pile of small branches and twigs was already stacked in the center. Had the kodama put those there? So fast?
Shiro cast a hand toward the mound of sticks. Fire leaped from his palm and rushed over the branches, instantly turning them into a merrily crackling campfire. Warmth rushed over her.
He dumped her onto her feet and she shuffled toward the flames, shuddering from head to toe as she held her hands toward the fire. Behind her, he opened her bag and dug through it. He pulled out her spare miko uniform and what had to be her coat: heavy black wool shaped vaguely like a knee-length haori, with a row of eye-loop buttons on the far side—the coat would fold over itself like a robe before being buttoned, adding to the warmth.
He held the coat open and extended it to her. “Strip.”
Her head snapped up. “W-what?”
“Strip,” he said impatiently. “Get out of those wet clothes.”
“B-b-but—”
“Don’t argue with me.” His expression hardened. “Take them off before I rip them off you.”
Cringing away from him, she blinked rapidly against the sting of tears. He lifted the coat higher until it hung between them, giving her privacy. With trembling hands, she untied her obi, wincing as her hakama loosened around her hips. Gritting her teeth, she slid them down and stepped out of them as she shrugged off her kimono. She quickly grabbed her change of clothes and pulled them on, wincing as the droplets clinging to her skin dampened the new garments.
Once she was dressed again, she stepped into the coat he held open. He swept it around her before she could insert her arms into the sleeves, bundling her in the wool so swiftly she could only squeak in surprise. He scooped her up, tucked the bottom of the coat under her, and put her down right in front of the fire. Leaving her, he snatched up her wet garments and tossed them over nearby branches, spreading them out to dry.
As she huddled in her coat, the cold hardly seemed to matter. She couldn’t tear her stare from him, from the sharpness of his movements, the anger in them painfully obvious. Suddenly, she wished she had brought Katsuo with her. With weak fingers, she slid off her soaked boots and pushed them toward the fire.
Shiro finished laying out her clothes and stalked back to her. Towering over her, he frowned, searching her face. His frown deepened and she wilted, shoulders hunching.
He leaned down and once again grabbed her. Scooping her into his arms, he dropped down cross-legged where she’d been sitting and held her in his lap. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight to him.
“Shiro!” she gasped, trying to lean away as her face warmed in a blush.
His arms tightened and he growled, “I’ll let you go when your lips aren’t blue anymore.”
Blinking in confusion, she stopped resisting, letting him tuck her against his chest. Heat radiated from him, seeping through the coat. Curled up in the wool, the fire at her back and his warmth all around her, she felt her shuddering shivers relent. Her aching muscles relaxed and she tentatively leaned her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, her nose filled with his woodsy scent, underlain with a hint of smoke that had nothing to do with the campfire.
“Kitsune?” a voice squeaked.
Shiro’s head turned. Emi peeked over the edge of the coat to see the four redheaded yokai standing well back from the fire. Another pile of branches sat in front of them.
“Will the human recover?” the leader asked hesitantly.
“If she doesn’t, I’ll burn your forest to the ground.”
Their faces blanched.
“Shiro, it wasn’t their fault,” she whispered. “I didn’t see the creek—”
His glare flashed down to her and he growled. She shut her mouth so fast her teeth clacked.
He looked back at the kodama. “Go away.”
They scurried off, casting petulant glares at Shiro as they vanished inside the nearest tree trunks.
“Little pests,” he grumbled, his arms tightening around her, his grip almost painfully constricting.
“Shiro …”
“Don’t start,” he snapped. “What were you thinking? Those aren’t harmless little children to play games with. And sliding down the hill—falling in a creek in this cold—” He snarled again. “Humans are so fragile. You need to be more careful.”
She forced herself to relax. His arms loosened a little, allowing her to breathe more easily. Humans were indeed fragile compared to yokai, and she finally understood where his bad temper was coming from. It was rooted not in anger, but in fear. He didn’t know exactly how fragile humans were, and getting soaked to the bone in the cold with no shelter was a danger of unknown magnitude.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, resting her cheek on him, her head tucked under his chin. “They were threatening me, and I didn’t know what else to do but go along with their demands.”
His chest rose under her before he exhaled. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
She wanted to protest that she didn’t need constant supervision but knew better. When it came to yokai, she did need help.
Wiggling one arm out of the coat, she quickly tugged her hair tie free and spread her hair over her back to dry. Just as she was about to withdraw her arm, his eyes caught hers, his face so close. The memory of the last time they’d been this close swamped her. Her gaze reflexively dropped to his mouth.
Realizing what she’d done, she pulled her arm back into the coat and held it tightly closed around her, blushing hotly.
“You look a little more alive,” he observed, uncharacteristically not commenting on her too-obvious ogling of him. “The blush is helping.”
Her cheeks grew even hotter and she scowled at him. “Helping what?”
“You were as white as the snow when you got out of the creek. Blue lips, glazed eyes. You looked moments from death.”
“Cold doesn’t mean instant death for a human,” she told him dryly. “Your lips would have been blue too if you’d taken a dunk in that water.”
“Not me. Cold never bothers me.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Well, almost never.” He grinned crookedly at her skeptical look. “Fire is in my blood, little miko.”
The return of his grin brought a relieved smile to her face. Her kitsune was back to normal. She hadn’t known how to handle his aggressively protective bad temper.
“What are you smiling about?”
“N-nothing.”
“Are you still cold?” He pulled her closer again. “Do you ne
ed a bigger fire?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said quickly, not wanting to explain that her stutter hadn’t been from shivering but from the fear that he might somehow read her thoughts. To divert him, she asked, “What exactly are kodama?”
“Tree sprites. Alone, they’re nothing to worry about, but they have frightening powers in large numbers, especially in their home forests. I imagine they were very excited by the idea of a human pet all their own.”
“A pet?”
“If you’d been by yourself, you probably would have ended up in Tsuchi for a few decades, ensnared as their servant and playmate until they got bored of you.”
“For decades?” she whispered, feeling cold again. She pressed closer to him.
“Don’t humans have stories about yokai kidnapping children and whatnot? It doesn’t happen often anymore, but the stories are reasonably accurate. Some yokai want to eat humans. Others …” He shrugged. “Although, I’m surprised they assumed you were a regular mortal and not—huh.”
He unexpectedly dipped his head closer to her and his nostrils flared. “Actually, you don’t smell nearly as strongly of kami as you did a few days ago. I can hardly detect it.”
“Guji Ishida gave me a new omamori to disguise my ki,” she answered, trying to lean away but unable to escape his arms.
“Hmm.” He pushed his nose into her hair, inhaling again. “No wonder the kodama didn’t notice. A yokai would have to be paying close attention to catch the scent of kami now.”
“Shiro!” She squirmed, ducking her head away from his face as her cheeks flamed all over again.
“What?”
She clenched her jaw, not wanting to point out how smelling her wasn’t exactly polite—and not wanting him to notice that her pulse was racing again. She mentally cast about for something else to say. “What about the stories of the Tengu kidnapping people and trapping them in fantasy worlds?”
Straightening again, he snorted in amusement. “Those tales aren’t quite right. Tsuchi would seem like a fantasy world to a human, wouldn’t it? And can you see Yumei kidnapping humans? He couldn’t care less. Some of his karasu are troublemakers, though. I wouldn’t put it past them to snatch humans.”