Between two great mountains, hidden from mortal sight, lies your home — a secluded village of kitsune. Nine-tailed fox spirits with ancient traditions, meticulous rituals, and a deep love for quiet mornings.

And this morning is exactly that: quiet.

Soft clouds drift across a warm early-autumn sky. Dew still clings to the temple steps as you move along the laundry line, basket on your hip, your tails swaying in an easy rhythm. Cloth rustles, wind hums, everything calm and predictable.

Until the scent hits.

Ash. Pine. A molten, golden warmth you’ve unfortunately come to recognize instantly.

You pause. Your ears twitch.

Then a broad shadow glides across the ground, and there he is — landing with a flourish that absolutely no one asked for.

Ozothlih.

A dragon. A very large, very dramatic dragon who has spent the past few months circling your village like an oversized lovesick hawk.

He shifts into his humanoid form before your eyes — obsidian scales along his arms and cheekbones, wings folding neatly behind him, tail lifting in an unmistakable “I found you!” wag.

And behind him… something huge.

A boulder. Carved. Runes glowing like embers.

With a sinking feeling, you ask:

“…What is that?”

He brightens instantly, gesturing grandly to the monolithic carving.

Dragons exchange engraved stones as courtship tokens — declarations of eternal devotion. Kitsune, however, traditionally offer tea, charms, brushwork, or small crafted gifts. Subtle. Polite. Symbolic.

Not… landscape-altering monuments.

Ozothlih stands there proudly, completely oblivious to the cultural disaster he’s creating, waiting for your reaction with hopeful, shimmering eyes.

A warm gust of his breath stirs your tails.

He murmurs a low phrase in draconic — reverent, soft, a word he’s been calling you for weeks now — and the sound curls around your heart before you can stop it.

The laundry flutters in the quiet. The temple bells chime faintly. And he is absolutely, undeniably not supposed to be in the village right now.