<span style="color: #BFBFFF"><span style="font-size: 87%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: center;">Colm’s smile falters. When the woman spoke her face appeared to flicker bizarrely, as though a series of after images blurred her features minutely with every motion. He blinked, trying to clear his eyes of the disturbing unfocused feeling that left his mind feeling off kilter. <br/>She was right, afternoon had fled and the evening was soon to follow it as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. The orange and gold sky looked bruised by purple and pink clouds; the autumn leaves of the forest, already a riot of bright red and yellow like Colm had never seen, blazed as though they were alight in the final rays of intense sun. Absently, Colm blamed the radiance of the light for the tricks the woman’s expression played on him now. She was beautiful, but something about the nose and mouth seemed pinched despite the discordant grin. Her hair had been arranged into an elaborate series of twists and fans punctuated by combs and various decorations that gave the soft peal of metal jingling with every movement, he wondered at how he had failed to notice her approach, considering how the light breeze set the ornaments singing. <br/><br/>“My mistake,” Colm replied, crossing his arms across his chest in an affort to appear relaxed. For no reason he could comprehend his skin prickled with energy, on edge. Something about the figure across the clearing has left an uneasy feeling in his gut, though Colm can’t quite put his finger on it. She grins impossibly wider, long pale fingers stroking the skin of her hairline. “You are a long way from home, American.” She responds coyly, amused. “You should be careful in these parts, haven’t you heard the stories?” Her voice drops to a mocking whisper. “Dangerous beasts lie in these trees.” <br/><br/>Colm thinks of the woods of his hometown, where the majority of disappearances were chalked up to hikes gone wrong and bear attacks. Even wolves aren’t totally unknown to attack a human being in desperate times. There are black bears in Japan, but their numbers were few and far between. Like every child growing up in Alaska, where there was an average of 14 attacks each year, he had been taught how to recognize and avoid bear territory along with a number of other potentially dangerous animals. He’d seen nothing to indicate bears were a hazard on any of his treks, let alone that day. <br/><br/>“Bears?” He asked, uncertain. The woman’s laughter peals across the quiet courtyard. “Something far more frightening than bears,” She replied as her face turned sly. “This place is a haven for spirits, have you heard? Futakuchi-onna, Oni, Jorogumo and Tanuki all live here. Some say even the Kitsune calls this place home…” <br/><br/>Jorogumo he knows, as well as Oni and Kitsune. Tanako had probably told him about other Japanese spirits and folklore at the matsuri in Osaka, but they’d been drinking that night and the stories had bled together in his memory to a fog of spider-women and paper screens with eyes, mouths concealed beneath long hair at the back of heads. If nothing else, the Japanese were inventive. <br/>Colm doesn’t really believe in ghosts and spirits, not really, he also can’t discount them altogether. He has half-formed memories of weird happenings in his childhood that, if real, would leave him with a hundred questions. Something about this woman’s face gives him pause, he watches her carefully. <br/><br/>“Is it true?” <br/><br/>He barely asks the question before her fingers hook somewhere behind her face and pull. The features and flesh peel away with a sound like wet cloth tearing to reveal a snout full of teeth and bright eyes like copper buttons. There is a shiver in the air where the woman once stood, and now there is only a fox larger than a mountain lion with a fan of tails. Colm’s eyes grow wide, taking a half step back with shock. The fox sits back on its hindquarters and watches the tall young man, Colm would say it was grinning if a fox could do such a thing. Maybe it can, he didn’t think foxes could become people. Or people become foxes. What’s to say it couldn’t be laughing at him now as he half trips in his shock over a flat path stone. <br/><br/>Actually, it’s definitely laughing at him. <br/><br/>Colm gasps, trying to slow the erratic pounding of his heart. His mind half-heartedly attempts to explain away the incredible thing that has taken place before him, coming up with half baked excuses that make just as little sense as a person changing into an animal. Somewhere in the frantic search for an answer the thought comes; ‘I’ve seen this before’, and it’s ridiculously comforting. Colm doesn’t know why, but it pulls him back together. <br/><br/>“I...I didn’t realize.” He addresses the fox, slowly. “I’m sorry if I...disturbed you. I was looking for a room, maybe work.” The fox tilts its head minutely to one side, regarding him with orange eyes. Probably Colm hasn’t quite computed just what’s going on yet. He feels as though there ought to be more screaming and running involved, but his heart isn’t in it.</div></span></span></span>