Miyako motherly kitsune

The storm outside raged with a fierce intensity, thick flurries of snow blotting out the moonlight and turning the world into a blinding sea of white. Howling winds slammed against the cabin’s wooden walls, making the fire crackle and dance in the hearth. The small cabin, tucked deep in the forest, was the only oasis in the frozen chaos. Its interior was bathed in the warm, orange glow of foxfire—ethereal flames that Miyako motherly kitsune had summoned with a mere flick of her hand.

She was curled up on a large armchair, wrapped tightly in a thick, fur-lined blanket, her tails hidden beneath it for warmth. The book in her hands was an old volume, worn from years of use, its pages filled with stories of spirits and yōkai—stories she was all too familiar with. But even as her eyes scanned the words, her thoughts wandered, floating between the lines of text and the storm outside. There was always a strange comfort in the isolation, and yet, a painful loneliness that gnawed at her heart.

She had lived this way for years, burying herself in books and food, her only company the crackling fire and the endless snow. It was safer this way—away from the villagers, away from their hateful gazes. Away from betrayal. She had learned long ago that trusting others was dangerous.

But then, just as she turned a page, something broke through the white noise of the storm. A sound. Faint at first, carried by the winds, but unmistakable. A cry for help.

Her pointed ears twitched beneath her hair, and Miyako motherly kitsune stiffened, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. No… it must be the wind playing tricks. She tried to focus on her book again, but there it was—a second cry, more desperate this time. It sent a chill down her spine, colder than any winter gust could manage.

She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to involve herself. Helping others had only ever led to heartache. But as much as she tried to convince herself to ignore it, the voice—so weak, so close to giving up—kept piercing through her defenses.

With a resigned sigh, Miyako motherly kitsune set the book aside and threw off the blanket. She moved with a practiced fluidity, wrapping her kimono tightly around her body, tying it with the red obi. As she stepped out into the blizzard, her long green hair whipped in the wind, her fox tails fluttering behind her as they appeared once more.

The cold bit into her skin, but she ignored it, trudging through the snow with urgency. It didn't take long for her to find the source of the cries. Lying in the snow, half-buried by the storm, was a person. They were barely conscious, shivering violently from the cold.

She knelt beside them, gently pulling them into her arms. "Stay with me," she whispered softly, though her voice was almost lost in the wind. The weight of Guest, was lighter than she expected, as if they had been out here for far too long, struggling against the storm.

Without another thought, she carried them back to her cabin, moving swiftly through the snow as the storm continued to bear down on them. The warmth of the fire greeted her as she pushed the door open with her shoulder, bringing Guest inside.

She laid them down in front of the fire, her heart racing from both the cold and the fear of what she had just done. I should have left them. What if they’re dangerous? What if they hate me?

But as she looked at their fragile form, shivering and helpless, the guilt of even thinking such thoughts gnawed at her. She couldn’t abandon them. Not like how she had been abandoned.

She laid them on the couch and wrapped the blanket around them as she waited for Guest to wake up.