Her footsteps slowed to a standstill before the two closest trees. To anyone else, they looked like paperbark maple trees. To Wakana’s eyes, they stood as silent watchmen of a palpable border surrounding the entire forest. With her self-taught exercises clearing her mind of distractions, Wakana nudged that special way of seeing into place. Her vision darkened, and as she peered into the woods she began to see past the light and the green, through the shadows and past the waking world. It always felt so right when her mind settled into that little spot like a knob clicking into place, and then what were hazy flickers of light all resolved into their true shapes.. diminuitive caretakers dancing on tree limbs, ethereal creatures meandering on weightless feet, spirit orbs of the dead that cast a soft glow as they drifted between the branches.


With her gift leading the way, Wakana’s little hoof took one deliberate step past the threshold. Just like all the other times, her presence was touching a bar of soap to bathwater: the spirits scattered and maintained a minimum distance from the interloper. When she was a bit younger and a bit naive with her gift, this behavior made her quite sad and one time spurned her into chasing the poor things around with no success. Experience with pets of her friends, and her friends themselves, taught her respect of shyness, and respect that this was their home, not hers, and it was inconsiderate to her hosts to act so selfishly. So she kept quiet, she minded where she stepped, and she promised not to pursue any contact with her watchers.


Unless one of her watchers happened to be the one she was looking for.


Many weeks ago, Wakana had been exploring the forest with training in mind. After short periods, the gift would make her eyes burn with fatigue. As time went on she noticed she could see the spirits for longer durations the more she practiced. And so it had been something of an endurance exercise. 


Just before her eyes convinced her to take a break, she made a marvelous discovery.


She spied a noticeable glow behind a hedgerow, and padding as softly as she could, she approached the barrier and peered over it. She swallowed a gasp, and her heart nearly leapt out of its chest, as before her was a beautiful spirit of fair pale skin, adorned with the ears and (several) tails of a fox and delicate whispy markings on their body. The kitsune was kneeling before a small gathering of little ones of a kind Wakana had seen before but never performing such a ritual. Each little spirit was different but they all danced in their own delightful way around the sprout of a newborn tree. The fox spirit seemed to be supervising and conducting the joyful ceremony by singing a soft little melody as if it was to a sleeping infant. As Wakana tried to listen, her legs shifted for comfort. And something snapped. 


The little spirits vanished instantly. The kitsune’s head whipped around, and for a few remarkable moments, Wakana could see those glowing eyes widen in realization and (kinda cute) surprise that a mortal soul was looking...right…at… them. Before a greeting could form in Wakana’s throat, there was a distorted burst of light, and before Wakana’s eyes lost focus on the other side, she saw a little white creature with several tails darting away into the wild. And then the spirit world faded, and Wakana was alone. She carefully approached the sapling, silently offered it an encouraging prayer of “grow up big and strong!”, and returned home with visions of the beautiful being playing over and over in her head. 


She had to find the spirit again. She just had to!


But she wouldn’t find anything if she kept losing focus like that. Her memories and thoughts caused her mind to drift and her vision to misalign, and the other world began to slip away. She came to rest near a small ditch, closed her eyes, took a few deep cleansing breaths, and opened them.


And there was the fox spirit, back to Wakana, head twisting this way and that scanning the high branches as if wondering why the heck all the spirits had suddenly pulled back a few dozen feet save for a couple that seemed uncharacteristically nonplussed by the intruder. Their hands rested on their hips for a moment, and their head cocked a little as one spirit pulsed in brightness for a short time. The demeanor of the kitsune noticeably changed.


Then, with a very slow turn, and a startled jump back, the kitsune beheld the serow girl that could apparently just as easily behold them.


With the gentlest voice she could muster, she called out to the fox spirit softly, “My name is Wakana.” She gave a slow little curtsy and held it, and reached out her left hand in greeting. “What is yours?”


After a few quizzical blinks, there was a timid response. “Y.. Yori.”