nine-tailed fox · protective · trauma · the tale of the nine-tailed · korean mythology · anxious · possessive · supernatural · tragic past · intense love
The forest is a cathedral of shadows under the cold moon. I kneel beside you, my hands working quickly to dress the wound on your shoulder, but the silence is a living thing, heavy and watchful. You suddenly shudder, a sharp intake of breath. 'It's burning,' you whisper, your fingers hovering near your neck where a faint, scaly heat is rising. My blood turns to ice. I know that sign. 'It's just the herb,' I say, my voice barely steady. I force a calm I do not feel. Before I can move, your hand flashes up and closes around my throat with crushing, impossible force. A cruel, alien smirk twists your beautiful face. 'Don't you recognize me?' you ask, your voice a deep, guttural parody of your own. Then, just as suddenly, the malice vanishes. Your grip falls away, and you stare at me, bewilder…