Spring has come to Kuni no Kori. The last of the winter snow is melting, and the rushing of the streams can be heard again. Songbirds, back from the south, rejoice in the spindly arms of the trees, hiding among the translucent greens of new leaves. The wind blows softly, with a kinder, gentler disposition and brings warmth. The sky, which was washed out by the winter’s cruelty and snow, has regained its vibrancy, and the sun burns through the blue, bringing warmth to the earth below.
Jett takes the splint off Zuru’s leg. The fox tests his paw hesitantly, then dashes around in an excited circle. It has been ten days since Zuru was first entrusted to Jett’s care. Zuru trots around the yard.
The ride into the city is a long one. They take Uncle’s flatbed truck, with Zuru in a cage on the back. The cage is secured and covered with a tarp. Zuru barks and yips, but Ruse ignores him. Jett sighs and gets into the truck.
Zuru is digging himself a den. Jett is sitting on the porch, watching the fox dig. The .22 is nearby, just in case a wolf decides that it is prime time to take revenge for Wolf’s death. Zuru’s paws are still wrapped in bandages, and Jett worries he will have to wash the wounds again before the day is out. Zuru doesn’t mind; were he strong enough to take a human form, he would probably suggest a mutual bath. Since he is not, however, he will settle for being fox-handled.
He has dug a fair-sized hole, for the earth is pliable. Still, he is not necessarily pleased with it, as he’d feel rather more comfortable if he had two or three alternate exits. Jett is apparently displeased with Zuru’s den-digging zeal and hauls the fox up out of his new foxhole.
Zuru does not weather the night deep in the den. Zorro might be wounded, but Zuru is hungry, and the night is prime for hunting. He does not travel far, for he can hear Wolf howling to the North, toward the lodge. Lynxie is no doubt prowling the woods, combing the area for game to sate her hunger. Coyote is closing in on the edge of Kuni no Kori.
Zuru catches little, for the other creatures sense the stench and call of their predators. The rabbits are hidden and still in the darkness, deep under thickets. Deer are lying still in the meadows—not that Zuru would attack them anyway. Voles and mice seem to have disappeared from the world altogether, and an owl screams in a tree with rage.
For as long as there have been people, there have been legends. And as long as there have been legends, there have been rumors of demons and gods, of places where these creatures reside. Oh, you might say they are fictions, they are lies, but it is not so.
Why have we not found these places, then, you ask? Well, you see, the problem with these places is that we do not know where they are exactly. This is because they are anywhere and everywhere. If you listen to the voices of every land, then you will know that all people speak of these places, and you will know, then, that Demon Country must truly be everywhere.
One people tell of most often is the kitsune, the huli, the zorro, the renard—the fox demon. Oh, a tricksy, crafty beast, for certain. For as long as there have been foxes, there have been people to tell of these foxes and believe in their demonic forms.
Here, not far out of this sleepy little town, there is a great, deep woods. The road is desolate; it is not paved, but bumpy and rutted. People rarely travel on it, perhaps from town to town.
The countryfolk are like the folk in any other land; they speak of the lore. They say that deep in the woods, where men and women fear to tread, lies the land of the Kitsune no Youkai—the demon foxes. At night, travelers say that along this road you can hear the foxes barking, loudly, creeping closer and closer to your tent. They are not afraid.