The Spirit of the Forest

Limping, Jin took another step. This is the last one, he thought. I’m done. I can’t go on. His legs kept moving. Stop! Please stop! Just let me rest. A part of him knew that if he stopped, he wouldn’t get back up, but at this point he didn’t care.

The snow had stopped, but the grey clouds still loomed overhead. The drifts had risen to his knees, and in some places up to his waist. His legs were caked in white and what remained of his boots had turned to large, misshapen white balls, making his steps even more difficult. He couldn’t feel his feet anymore, and he was starting to lose feeling in his legs as well. He took another step.

The thin layer of snow cracked with each step. The ground was uneven and rocky, with the roots of trees threatening to trip them up and deep holes hidden beneath the snow. Mori had stepped in one yesterday and broken his ankle. He was put on their last remaining horse after that.

They were marching under the shadows of tall pine trees and sycamores. There was no real order to it, as long as you kept up that’s what counted. If you didn’t, nobody cared enough to halt and wait for you. Jin wondered how long they would last. They had no food left and their last horse was bound to give out sooner rather than later. At least then they would have something to eat, Jin thought.

They had been around thirty when they had fled the camp, Jin recalled, but some had bled from their wounds, others wandered off into the snow in the night, and a few had succumbed to the cold in their sleep. One had a smile on his face when they found him in the morning. The possessions of the dead men were always divided up among the living. It felt wrong to pawn off the belongings of someone who had just passed but you would be crazy to refuse a pair of thick, warm gloves. Jin was many things but crazy was not one of them.

Two men almost came to blows over a scarf - one even went so far as to reach for a dagger. Jin was sure that would have been blood had Honda not intervened. “Enough!” he had barked. With his great fur cloak that everyone envied and large stature, he reminded Jin of a bear. “Yori gets the scarf, and you - Tochiro isn’t it - reach for that dagger again and you’ll lose that hand. Finish stripping the dead. We move on soon.”

Move on where though? That was the question on everyone’s mind. They had been wandering for three days with no clear sense of direction since their siege of Yunaki Castle had been lifted and they were forced to flee. Some of them were starting to wonder if Honda was actually leading them to safety.

The siege at Yunaki was meant to be the last chapter in a time of rebellion, ending with either the death or capture of Lord Taka Yunaki. But it seemed the spirits were watching over the rebel lord that night. Jin had been sleeping when the camp had come under attack. At first, he thought it was his imagination or he was simply dreaming, but when the shouts didn’t die down, he opened his eyes and found that everything was in an uproar. The snow had been lazily falling that night, he recalled.

Around him, others were roused as well. They all reached for their weapons and looked around wildly, trying to make sense of what was happening. Were they under attack? Jin first thought that the defenders in Yunaki had sallied out, choosing a warrior’s death rather than one of starvation, but the sounds of battle weren’t coming from the direction of the castle, rather the southwest end of camp. Not bothering buckling his sword belt, Jin drew his sword and followed a group of men as their sergeant shouted orders. The sounds grew louder and clearer. He could hear the clash of steel against steel and the cries of horses and men. The night suddenly lit up as tents were set aflame. A horseman appeared out of the darkness, outlined by the fire to his back. Jin and his group moved aside, but some were too slow. Two were trampled beneath the horse’s hooves, and a third was cut down as the horseman passed. A banner flew from his back - two golden cranes on a blue field. Jin felt his stomach drop. The Tomi clan had come to lift the siege!

A horn sounded in the night, Jin remembered, followed by an answering horn from Yunaki Castle. The fighting grew more chaotic. They were set upon by Tomi men, and what little drilling Jin received beforehand left his mind. Fear overtook him. He threw down his sword and ran back the way he had come. It all became too much. The clash of arms, the roaring of the fires as they spread, the shouts of men, and the high-pitched neighing of horses. No, not shouts, he realized a second later. Screams. Screams that made his heart drop into his stomach. What must one do to a man to make him scream so terribly?

He needed to get away! Away from the fighting, the fire, and all the chaos. His first thought was to grab a horse and ride for home. He felt horrible for running, but his need to survive far outweighed his need to be courageous. Everything had been a blur. He remembered hearing Honda shouting, rallying men to him. Already he had a sizable amount around him. “Horsemen!” he shouted, raising his voice to be heard above the din of the battle. “Form a wedge! The rest of you, stay close, or be left behind!” With that, he led to the part of the camp where the fighting wasn’t as thick. With the horsemen leading, they forced their way through what Tomi resistance there was, through the spiked barricades and out into the open. They rode hard for the tree line.

Jin had thought then that Honda had been their savior, but now he, along with a few others he was sure, were beginning to wonder if Honda had saved them from the slaughter at camp only to have them die from starvation and the cold.

He took another step. The snow gave way beneath him and he fell up to his chest in a drift. The sudden cold tore the air from his lungs, causing a strangled noise to come from his throat. “Here, let me help you.” A man held out a hand. He pulled Jin out and he got to his feet, shaking the snow off and out of his clothes.

“Thank you,” Jin said. The man had his hood pulled up and his cloak wrapped tightly around himself. He nodded and as he went to retrieve the spear he had implanted into the snow, Jin noticed that one of his hands was wrapped in a scarf, while the other was red from cold, his fingertips just starting to turn blue. “What’s your name?”

The man pulled his spear free and went to follow the rest of the group. “Kuro,” he answered.

Jin removed one of his gloves and held it out. “Thank you, Kuro.”

Kuro hesitated but after a moment he took the glove and put it on. They had fallen behind from the rest, but it was clear enough for them to see so they didn’t bother catching up. All they had to do was follow the tracks.

The forest darkened. Twilight was here. The clouds that had seemed so grey and threatening had moved on and a full moon was climbing. The wind picked up, making the trees shake like living things. The low-hanging branches tugged at their cloaks and the loose snow swirled around them like a miniature blizzard.

“Did you hear that?” Kuro asked, halting in his stride. He looked around and back the way they had come.

Jin stopped as well. “Hear what?” He strained his ears. All he heard was the crunch of snow and the creaking of the branches. “Is it the Tomi?” He didn’t think that they would be pursued this far. He prayed that he was wrong.

“No. I hear… singing?”

Jin listened again, trying to hear whatever it was that Kuro was hearing. There was nothing but the nighttime noises. The trees towered above them. Some were covered in snow and others were bare. They were beautiful and ominous.

The horse collapsed, whining pitifully. Mori fell from the saddle. Someone helped him, but most of the men had already started to gather around the beast. It was clear what they meant to do. Jin’s stomach growled and he rushed to join. Already, someone had slit the poor animal’s throat and was on their knees, ready to cut off stripes of meat when Honda came up. “Stop!” he said. “Keep moving, all of you. We can’t stop now; we’re close.”

“Close to what?” Tochiro snapped. He was a thin man with very little hair and an unpleasant face. He always looked to be angry. “We’ve been walking for three days and haven’t seen anything!” He took a step towards Honda. “Some of us are starting to think you’re leading us nowhere.” A few men nodded and others voiced their agreement.

Honda stared at them all. “There’s a temple not far,” he said after a few heartbeats of pregnant silence. “Another half-hour, maybe less, and we’ll all be warm and dry with food in our bellies. Follow me or don’t, that’s your choice.” He turned and left them in the snow. One by one, they trailed after him.

Jin went to follow but remembered Kuro and stopped. He looked back but Kuro was gone. His spear lay on the ground, half-buried in the snow. Jin opened his mouth to call out, but the words never left his lips. There was a stillness that wasn’t there before, a weight to the air that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The branches above swayed and creaked like ancient skeletal fingers. The bushes rustled and he turned and ran, leaving the spear and wherever Kuro might be behind, following the others as fast as he could. He prayed to whatever spirits were watching they would find the temple soon.

The wind blew. For a heartbeat, Jin thought he heard laughter.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The moon hadn’t moved but it felt like they had been walking forever. He had stopped feeling his feet, and his face was starting to go numb as well. The trees closed in around them, and it was then that Jin noticed rope tied around the trunks. Dangling from those ropes were what he guessed were talismans of some kind. He looked closer and found that they were thick rectangular pieces of canvas with colored thread knotted at the bottom and lettering written down the length. It wasn’t long before a single gate loomed ahead of them. They passed beneath its archway and followed the stone steps half-hidden in the snow until they arrived at another archway and entered a dark and snow-covered courtyard.

The stone lanterns that were dotted about were unlit, and the temple itself looked abandoned. Everyone rushed towards the temple steps. Jin would have joined them, but the thing that gave him pause was the distinct lack of pagoda tower. Every temple had one; they were a symbol. No matter if you were in the heart of civilization or the deep wilderness, there was always a pagoda to be had. Except for this one. Why was that, he wondered. Jin shook his head and pushed the thought to the back of his mind. It wasn’t his place to question the lack of the tower. He was sure the temple had its reasons.

The blast of heat that assaulted them when they pushed open the door was enough to force the air from Jin’s lungs. They all huddled into the entryway and closed the doors. Already, he could feel the warmth return to his extremities.

A man appeared around the corner and approached them with a smile. He wore a brown and yellow robe, and a necklace of orange beads was around his neck. He made no noise as he walked on the wood floors. “Welcome gentlemen,” he said, bowing. His voice was soft. “I’m Dosan, the leading monk of Soji temple.”

Honda dipped his head respectfully. “Good evening, master. We’ve been lost for days. We’ve in need of shelter and medicines. We have many injured among us.”

The monk looked past him and at their miserable group. “How many of you are there?”

“Nineteen.”

Dosan was silent. Jin thought he might try to turn them away, and he knew that some of the men wouldn’t hesitate to open the man’s throat had he tried. He hoped the monk had more sense than that.

“We don’t have much room,” the monk told them, “but we will do our best to accommodate you. Before that, however, you must leave what weapons you have here in the entryway. This is a place of faith, not of war.” The men exchanged looks. Honda was the first to place his sword against the wall. Everyone else reluctantly followed his example. Three swords and a handful of daggers were laid against the wall and piled on the floor. Dosan looked at them and smiled. “I will have someone come to collect them and have them stored until you are ready to leave.”

The vaulted ceiling and sparse furnishings made the hall feel open and empty. The white walls were painted with animal and forest motifs and the beams were red, giving the room some sense of decoration and color. That didn’t rid Jin of his feeling of unease. He had been to temples before, but those were usually a single room with a statue of Buddha in plain view. This was extravagant, something he would have seen in a large city, not out in the middle of nowhere. There was no shrine that he saw, only a large red door with gilded hinges and studs. Was in there where they prayed?

“Sadly, given how large your group is you’ll have to stay out here in the main hall,” Dosan said. “I’ll have blankets and some hot food brought to you, as well as an ointment for your wounded.”

Honda bowed his head again. “Thank you again. We are in your debt.”

“You’re very welcome. It would be poor taste if we turned those in need away. If I may, I request that you and your men stay in the hall.”

“Your roof, your rules.”

Dosan smiled, wrinkled his nose for a moment, and left, disappearing down a hall. It wasn’t long before other monks came to them. Two carried blankets and the third handed out small loaves of bread. They were hard, but the men tore into them like wolves. After the monks came shrine maidens. One burned sticks of incense while two others applied a sticky, green-looking salve to the wounded. A monk returned with a large pot of broth and started filling and passing out bowls. The broth itself was thin and brown with bits of onion. It wasn’t what Jin was expected when he was told of a hot meal, but he didn’t complain. None of them did.

Confined to the hall, the days quickly bled into one another. The monks left them alone; the only time they ever interacted was when they came to serve more broth and bread, apply more ointment, or burn more incense. Like clockwork, Jin would watch as Dosan lead the monks and maidens through the red door, and every time, he would try and catch a glimpse of the inside. One time he saw what looked like a gilded display, but the door closed before he could see whatever statue was atop it.

Before long the monks stopped burning the incense and the hall quickly filled with the sour smell of infection. Some of the men were worse than previously thought. One had started going delirious, a second was shaking uncontrollably, and a third had yellow, foul-smelling puss oozing from his wounds.

“I’m cold,” the shaking man said, his teeth chattering. “I can’t feel my hands.”

Jin fed another spoonful of broth into his mouth. “It’s alright. You’re safe and warm.” He dabbed away a bit of it that had dribbled down his chin with the corner of his sleeve. “What’s your name?”

“M… Mataza.”

“Think of someplace warm, Mataza. Think of a nice warm fire; think of summer.” Jin offered him another spoonful of broth.

Mataza swallowed and shook his head. “I’ve tried. I’m so cold. Please, go find the woman, the one with the golden eyes. She makes the cold go away.”

Jin frowned. Was he talking about one of the shrine maidens? He never recalled any of them having eyes like that. Then again, all three looked the same. He fed Mataza the rest of the broth and threw another blanket over him before going to Honda. “I’ll speak to Dosan the next time he decided to show himself,” the grizzled soldier said. “In the meantime, try and keep Mataza as warm as you can.”

“His shoulder’s starting to smell,” Tochiro commented, nudging Mataza with the toe of his boot. “Be better to just stick a knife in him, if you ask me.”

“I don’t recall that I did,” Honda replied.

"And I don’t recall asking to be fed broth for days straight.” Tochiro stalked off towards another end of the hall.

Honda watched him go, his expression dark. “He’s becoming an increasing problem.”

Jin didn’t say anything. He did as ordered and stayed by Mataza. Now and then he would ask about the golden-eyed maiden, and every time Jin would tell him that she would come. His shakings became less violent and a small smile would appear on his face as if the thought of her put him at ease.

Once he knew that Mataza was fast asleep, Jin rose and headed for the front door. The smell of infection and puss was all any of them could smell since the monks stopped burning incense, and he longed to breathe in fresh, clean air. The day was cloudy, but still bright enough to blind him after spending so long indoors. The courtyard was blanketed in untouched snow. There must have been another snowfall without any of them realizing it, Jin reasoned.

Briefly, he wondered how the rebellion was going. Had it been put down? Were clans Tomi and Yunaki able to salvage what was left and reconsolidate their forces? Were they marching on the capital right now to overthrow the shogun they saw as corrupt? All these things went through his head, but Jin found himself not at all worried. How could he be? They were hurt and starving, yes, some of them even dying, but they were alive regardless. Honda had brought them to safety. The sacking of their camp felt like a lifetime ago, almost like a dream. For the first time since that dreadful night, Jin felt at peace. There was something about the snow-shrouded temple that held a calming aura. It all felt disjointed from the rest of the world.

He spent hours outside, freezing, but completely at peace. By the time he decided to return inside, every ounce of warmth had been stolen from his body and his teeth were starting to chatter. Once his eyes readjusted to the gloom of the temple, he saw Yori pulling a blanket over Mataza’s head. The calm that he had quickly gave way to saddened disbelief.

“Said the golden-eyes maiden came to him,” Yori told him. “She took the cold away. He was smiling.”

“His wound...” Jin said. “Tochiro said it was starting to smell. We should have paid more attention to it.”

“Forget his wound,” Yori snapped. “We've two others who are worse off than he was and they’re still alive.”

“He was always cold. Even with extra blankets and broth he was never warm.”

“Never warm and never fed! There’s only so much warmth can do. He needed a proper meal and a full belly. Those monks, they’re starving us.”

Jin looked around anxiously, afraid of what the monks might do if they overheard. Or worse, Honda. The large man made it plain he wouldn’t tolerate any talk that would offend their hosts. Luckily, he was on the other side of the hall, quietly talking with one of the men.

“The monks have themselves to look after,” Mori said. “Up here in the mountains, food’s hard to come by. We’re lucky they’ve allowed us to stay for as long as we have.”

“Don’t you buy into this.” Yori rose. “The moment we leave, they’ll open one of their secret pantries. Gorge themselves on meat and honey, and laugh at us while we starve and freeze in the snow. Ask him if you don’t believe me.” He kicked Mataza’s body and stormed off.

The monks came and took the body away. At least they’ll give him a proper burial, Jin thought, watching them go. Better laid to rest at some temple than left to be forgotten in the snow. The mood of the hall darkened afterward. The soldiers kept to themselves. A few talked to each other but only in whispered tones. Jin would see Tochiro shooting nasty looks at Honda when the large man wasn’t looking. The tension between the two men was unmistakable. Everyone could see and feel it, but none wanted to ease it.

It must have become too much even for Honda because that same day he announced that they would leave come morning. They had overstayed their welcome, he had said. There was some disagreement - a few of the men were in no condition to move – but those who raised such objections were ignored.

When Dosan learned of their departure, he seemed neither glad nor disappointed. His face was a mask. “I’m sorry that we couldn’t help you any further,” the priest said. “And I am sorry about Mataza, as well. If only there was more we could have done.”

“You’ve done more than enough, master,” Honda reassured him. “More than we could hope to repay.”

“Be that as it may, at least let us make your last night somewhat special. We don’t normally do this, but tonight we’ll allow each of you a taste of our ceremonial spirit. A parting gift in a sense.”

The onion broth was brought for the last time. The three maidens passed out bowls while the soldiers sat crossed-legged on the floor. Dosan served the spirit himself. It tasted of berries and when they drank there was a warmness that started in the chest then spread throughout the body. There was no bread this time, Jin noted, as did a few others. When Nakamura asked for some, the shrine maiden shook her head.

“No bread,” Tochiro complained. “Are we supposed to just drink this and call it a night? We need more than broth, you stupid woman!”

Honda gave him a hard look over the rim of his bowl. “Watch your tongue. You’ll take what’s offered and be grateful. Or would you rather be freezing to death eating snow?”

“I'd rather have what the monks are hiding away.” A few of the men nodded in agreement. “How else do they survive winter in the middle of nowhere. I bet they have a full pantry they’re just waiting to open up once we leave.”

“Whatever it is you think we have; I can assure you you’re mistaken.” Dosan was surprisingly calm. “We’ve done our best to make sure you’re all feed to the best of our abilities, but we have ourselves to look after as well.”

“So, you admit you have food stashed somewhere,” Nakamura accused.

“That drink of theirs tasted like berries,” someone said. “We know they’ve onions, why not have dried berries as well.”

“Acorns. Pine nuts. You can smash them into a paste.”

“Carrots. Potatoes.”

“Apples. Barrels and barrels of apples.”

“The horse we lost, we can go back for it. Cut it up and have some real food.”

“They have herbs for their ointments,” Yori added. “We can use them to season the horse.” That got the men excited. Jin stomached growled loudly at the thought of having an actual meal. He imagined the smell of the meat and his mouth began to water.

Honda rose. “Silence! There’ll be no more of this. Sit down or I’ll throw you out myself. That is an order!”

“Take your order and shove it up your ass,” Tochiro snapped, flinging his bowl of broth at Honda. It struck him in the chest and sprayed his face.

Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. All eyes were on Tochiro and Honda, both men fixed on the other. Honda broke first. He flew at Tochiro in a fury. The thin man retreated in the face of the grizzled soldier, but not fast enough before both crashed to the floor. Honda was able to get a blow in before Yori and Nakamura pulled them apart. One moment Honda was spitting curses, the next he was roaring. Knives had appeared in both men’s hands, stained with blood. The youngest of the shrine maidens started to wail.

Dosan was no longer smiling. “How dare you spill blood in this sacred temple!” he seethed. “You’ll burn for this! You'll face divine retribution! Leave at once!”

Tochiro pulled a knife from his boot and advanced on the monk. Dosan tried to flee but was caught by the robes and forced to his knees. “Give your spirit my regards,” Tochiro sneered. He yanked the monk’s head back by the hair and opened his throat from ear to ear. The oldest of the maidens lunged at the soldier, clawing at his eyes, crying hysterically. He knocked her to the floor and shoved the tip of his blood-stained knife under her chin. “Show us where the pantries are, or you’ll end up like your monk.”

Drawn by all the commotion, the other monks entered the hall and soldiers moved to block their way at knifepoint. Jin remained sitting on the floor, dumbfounded, his bowl of broth completely forgotten. Did none of them care about angering the spirits? Should he do something? But what could he do; most of them had knives, all he had was a wooden bowl.

Laughter filled the hall.

Eerily cheerful, it made the whole room freeze. The large red door swung open and a woman stepped out. She wore a black robe with draping sleeves, patterned with red and white lily flowers. A chain of orange beads that seemed to glow with an inner light hung around her ghostly pale neck. Her raven-black was up in a knot. There was an entrancing, otherworldly beauty to her. Her large yellow eyes moved almost lazily over the crowd of soldiers and monks, stopping on the body of Dosan and the growing pool of blood.

“Who are you?” Tochiro demanded. The yellow eyes snapped towards him and he flinched, giving the maiden in his grasp the opportunity to crawl away. The woman giggled into her sleeve, amused. Tochiro was anything but. “Answer-” She closed the distance in an instant. Her hand shot out and the rest of his words became a garbled mess as he grasped at his throat. Blood welled between his fingers.

Before Tochiro’s body hit the floor, she was moving to her next target. The soldiers tried to fight back, but they were too slow. She danced through them, lashing out with nails that were as sharp and black as obsidian, faster than any of them could react. Nakamura slashed with his knife. She recoiled, a short, sharp scream emanating from her, and her face morphed. Nakamura froze and she retaliated. Blood sprayed like a fountain, staining the walls and support beams. The soldier’s head hung from his neck by a sliver of skin and tendon.

What fight the remaining men had vanished like smoke. What followed, Jin could scarcely recall. One moment he had been sitting on the floor, the next he was scrambling down the steps, down into the courtyard, and out through the gate. Behind him, he could hear the screams and the cries for mercy, and no matter how far he ran he could still hear the laughing. It made his blood go cold and he forced himself to keep going. The snow crunched under his feet. His breath steamed in the air. He ran until he couldn’t anymore. His lungs burned, his head pounded, and every breath was a struggle.

A hole hidden beneath the snow caught his foot. Pain exploded from his ankle. The ground rushed up to meet him. His vision swam and the pain made him focus. His heart pounded so fast and hard that he thought it might burst from his chest. Large flakes floated lazily down. His feet burned from the cold and it was then he remembered leaving his boots at the temple. Despite everything, Jin couldn’t help but let out a short, pitiful laugh. They had been falling apart, but it still would have been nice to have them.

He got to his feet. He tried to put pressure on his right foot but pain shot up his leg. He had to bit his cheek to stop from shouting out. Jin looked around, getting his bearings. He had to keep moving, no matter what. It was hard to tell how far he’d gone, but he knew that he wouldn’t be safe until he left the forest. If he could find somewhere to hide until the morning, he reasoned, he had a better chance. His going was slower. Jin forced his way through the snowdrifts, dragging his foot behind him.

The silence of the forest was deafening. Every move he made, it sounded like thunder. He would jump at every random noise, freeze up and wait to see if the woman would show herself. He wanted to think that there was no way she could follow him in the forest in the dead of winter, but if the bloodbath in the temple told him anything it was that she was not normal. Was she the deity that the monks worshipped?

The bushes rustled ahead of him and Jin’s heart stopped. He froze and waited. A fox emerged from the brush. Its orange coat seemed to shine in the twilight. It shook the snow off and turned its head to look at him. Jin released a pent-up sigh. Of all the things to frighten him so much, a fox was the last thing he would have expected. He went to move, but the fox barked and blocked him. The animal circled him, hopped, and darted off, pausing a few feet away to look back. Jin frowned. Did the fox want him to follow? He took a few tentative steps towards the fox and he could have sworn he saw the animal smile.

He followed the fox through the forest. The animal would rush ahead, but then turn and wait for Jin before doing it all over again. He didn’t know where the fox was leading him, but he figured it was better than just picking a random direction and going. The fox, at least, seemed to have a destination in mind. If Jin remembered correctly the foxes were messengers from the gods and came to the aid of those who needed it. He drew some comfort from that.

They entered a clearing and the fox stopped. It circled Jin and hopped about, yipping happily. Jin looked around. What was the point of stopping here? Singing filtered through the trees. The fox stopped and cocked its head, sniffing the air. Jin felt his heart skip. His eyes looked around wildly, searching for the woman. Where was she? Where- There!

She came gliding through the trees like a ghost. Her robes fluttered gracefully and her bare feet left no trace of her passing. The slaughter in the temple came to his mind and was so overcome with dread that he dropped to his knees “What are you?” Jin whimpered. He no longer had the urge to flee, and fighting was unthinkable. “Please. I haven't done anything.”

She was silent. Her eyes glowed, two orange points in the twilight. You and yours desecrated my temple and murdered my priests. Her lips never moved, but he heard her voice clear as day.

“It wasn’t me,” he urged. He threw himself to the ground, prostrating himself. Tears streamed down his face. “It was Tochiro and Yori and the others. I-I've honored the spirits, the gods. I have my whole life. I’ll never come back; I swear! Please, spare Please!” He sobbed uncontrollably, his whole body shaking.

He felt her get closer. He looked up and saw a small smile on her pale face. She got down on her knees and cupped his cheek with a hand. Her touch was warm. Her face altered. Her pupils dilatated to slits, her mouth and cheeks split open into a horrendous smile, and her teeth were filed to points. Jin found that he couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t a spirit, he thought. She was a demon from Hell.

He blinked. The spirit and the forest were gone, replaced with beaches, high cliffs, and sand. The sun was climbing to noon. The wind tugged at the fishing nets and waves lapped gently at the shore, knocking against the boats. He was home. He turned and saw a boy running along the beach towards him. A woman was trailing behind, smiling, the wind pulling at her hair. Jin choked up. He never thought he would see them again. He said a silent prayer of thanks to the spirits and went to meet them.

Jin’s eyes were glazed over, focused on a point so far off that even the woman couldn’t tell where. He never felt the hand leave his cheek, never felt her nails glide against his throat, and open it. His blood stained the snow and died without ever knowing it, with a smile on his face. The spirit rose, closed her eyes, and touched the orange beads around her neck. They pulsated with a life of their own. The night was quiet, the only noise being the wind and the soft creaking of the branches. She looked down at the fox and smiled softly. She cast a glance towards Jin and walked away. The fox trailed after. She lifted her voice and began to sing.