Not many commoners believe in mythos, or the fables shared and passed down from generation to generation about what lies in the ‘Magic Forest’ beyond the village.

Chuuya can’t exactly blame them either. If he wasn’t literally able to shift from a fox to a human in the blink of an eye, he wouldn’t feed into it either.

Chuuya had grown up in the forest since he could remember, and practically knew it like the back of his hand, ~~yet somehow still managed to get lost from time to time~~. When Chuuya was around fifteen, he met a sorcerer, Dazai, who quickly became his best, and only, friend.

Night had just fallen, and it blanketed the forest in a twilight glow. Chuuya was walking through the tree line, trying to find his way back to he and Dazai’s camp.

Chuuya pulled his makeshift backpack he had crafted to carry kindling in, on a bit tighter, mumbling to himself as he continued trudging along.

Eventually, the redhead found his way back, his ears twitching when he stepped on a particularly flimsy branch, which snapped under his foot.

The noise echoed through the never-silent forest, causing Dazai to turn around curiously. When he saw Chuuya, he grinned and got up from where he was seated, prancing up to the redhead.

Chuuya had to bite back a groan of annoyance, shoving the kindling into the sorcerer’s hands. “Here. And, don’t try anything stupid while I go catch us something to eat. You still aren’t allowed to light the fire after last time.”

Dazai simply nodded and walked back to the fire pit to arrange the wood, being uncharacteristically obedient and quiet.

It unnerved Chuuya, but he didn’t comment. Instead, walking over to the river that they were camped aside to search for prey.