The scent of blood was not hard to pick up on.

With Kenta’s keen nose and eyes, he had spotted the red amongst the white quickly. It was deep in the forest, and colours that bright and human were not common. The only creatures roaming these parts were spirits, animal forms of humans long dead, living a life free from the crushing weight of humanity and life. Even if the humans claimed spirits were godless and wrong, Kenta knew that could never be true, especially when he’d never felt so free.

He had simply been running. He did it often, his padded feet hitting cold snow, his body slim and quick. Kenta never felt as free as he did in his fox form. All the clouded memories of his life as a human seemed to rush away with the wind against his ears, every human urge, every emotion. He was free out here. He wished the scent of humanity hadn’t snapped him out of it, made him change his course, instead following the deep footprints and red trail.

He didn’t care, of course, he was simply curious. He was even more curious when he found a human, their body crumpled in the snow, a halo of red surrounding them, staining the perfect environment with their humanity. Kenta moved closer, shifting back to his human form, a look of confusion flicking over his features. Gods, what had happened to this human?

He moved closer, his feet sinking deep into the snow, his clothes- traditional, he always assumed it had been what he was wearing when he died, as every time he looked he remembered the sharp pain- dragging behind him. He assessed the human’s injuries, leaning over them with caution. He was certain they were dead before their eyes snapped open, a spray of blood emerging from their throat. Kenta scrambled backwards, prepared to shift back into his fox form and sprint at any moment. He watched with wide eyes as the human coughed their lungs up, their entire body shaking with the pain. Kenta’s ears twitched, his pupils slits

“Gods…” He muttered to himself, half from the shock, half from the gruesome sight.