The landscape of Japan looked picturesque to Lady Josephine MacNeal. It reminded her of the prints she had seen of Mount Fuji. The snow capped mountain dominated the sky to the east. The sun, which appeared pathetically small in comparison, hung low in the winter sky behind her. Her shadowy figure stretched far out ahead of her. It blurred and disappeared as a cloud, heavy with snow, passed in front of the sun. They would need to set up camp soon. Gently, she pulled her nenneko[1] closer, savoring the warmth it held. Fat flakes of snow swirled down from the clouds before alighting onto the coat of Hoshi Akari, her black mare.

            It was a true adventure to be traveling around Japan, a country that had fought so long to hide themselves from Western influence. She wished her brother, Lord Edward MacNeal, could be with her. Of course, if he hadn’t angered whomever and been murdered I wouldn’t be in this beautiful country. A slow, sad smile twitched at her mouth. Well, it would have taken me longer to get here any rate.

            Lady Josephine tucked a strand of ebony hair behind an ear, but the snapping wind quickly freed it. She had been raised in India and had only been to London to attend her brother’s wedding to Lady Adeline Cersideon. She hadn’t even been to her native country of Scotland. So it was no wonder that her clothes, which were designed to weather the suffocating heat of India, had been so insubstantial in this foreign land once winter set in. It had been an absolute blessing that her trunk of clothes had been accidently destroyed. She never would have considered wearing Japanese clothing if it hadn’t.

            After adopting the style of dress of the natives, she had found her interaction to be much more cordial and less frigid than when she was wearing her British clothing. I will have to try this when dealing with other peoples. Josephine thought, fingering the silk of her sleeve. She hadn’t worn foreign clothes since her mother caught her dressing up in Neelam’s sari. Her mother had not only been furious, but also ashamed. The incident had been so terrible; she had never considered repeating it, even after her mother had died.

            Underneath the nenneko, Lady Josephine was dressed in the heavy, fur trimmed, red silk kimono with the white cranes that she had been given. The obi[2] itself weighed twice as much as the kimono, and the kimono out weighed her usual outfit by a significant margin. With a wry smile she thought, I’m going to have to stop saving maiden’s lives or someone will try to give me a bride instead of a kimono. It was, apparently, something that could happen if she indebted a lord deeply enough. According to her guide, Asai Ken’ichi, if she preformed a heroic enough act they would accord her the appropriate reward, even if the reward was a wife.

            As her party approached the crossroads, a gnawing anxiety clutched her gut. She felt an intense pressure to go down the left fork. She turned to Asai Ken’ichi, who rode at her right hand, and asked, “Where does that left branch lead?”

            The Japanese man lifted his eyes to the road she gestured to, “Ah, my lady, that road leads to nothing but tragedy. There is nothing down that road.”

            Neelam, Lady Josephine’s Indian lady’s maid, rolled her eyes. She was very familiar with that tone of voice; it was at once patronizing and reverent. ‘Don’t worry your delicate feminine head.’ Yet, it also communicated, ‘Your servant is not worthy of answering your question.’ Neelam adjusted her grip on the reins. Memsahib[3] isn’t going to listen.

            Lady Josephine pulled Hoshi Akari to a stop. “I must go that way, Asai-kun.” He’s probably feeling frustrated that I want to go away from Kyoto. She frowned, her unease growing stronger. If I didn’t feel it so strongly… “I must go this way; my gut is telling me it is important.” She kneed her horse, who took a cautious step forward.

            Neelam turned her horse and followed her memsahib. Whatever was down that road would be interesting. She lifted a hand to her panther muzzle, times like this, she was glad she was more beast than woman. It was almost certain memsahib was leading them into danger. Her blue eyes gleamed in the dying light. It was not often that she could hunt the way the gods had intended.

            As soon as she mentioned the sense in her gut, Asai Ken’ichi turned in his saddle and began barking orders in Japanese. The wagons turned from going down the right fork to going down the left.

            Lady Josephine had expected some grumbles from the wagoniers at the very least, even if the guards were too professional to do so. She heard nothing spoken. She was witnessing a culture difference. The servants considered themselves to be an extension of their lord’s will. It was an honor to serve him and their emperor. It was not their concern why they were bringing this strange British woman to their emperor in Kyoto. If they had needed the information to accomplish their duty, it would have been provided them.

            Asai Ken’ichi had been told that the emperor wanted Lady Josephine to arrive in good spirits. To him, this meant that if she wanted to take a detour down the left path, he would accommodate her. Anyway, Japanese lore put a great deal of trust in gut feelings.

            However, neither Lady Josephine nor Neelam had any time to consider the implications of this. Out from the trees on either side bandits, or at the very least, men who did not wear the emblem of their lord on their haori[4], sprang forth screaming in Japanese, “Death to foreigners!” and “Cleanse the white devil from our lands!”.

            Neelam ushered her horse forward so she could protect her memsahib. Her panther maw opened in a hiss and claws sprang from her fingers. Her horse, already skittish with carrying a panther beastwoman, balked. The horse’s eyes rolled and it screamed.

            Lady Josephine stretched out a soothing hand. Her family had a knack for dealing with animals; it was partially how her family had risen to prominence in Scotland. Neelam regained control of her mount with a smooth touch of her knees; the horse now seemed to be ashamed at its earlier fright. Asai Ken’ichi and the guards circled them.

            The pull to charge down the left fork grew inside Lady Josephine. Something terrible would happen if she didn’t go. She shouted to her lady-in-waiting, “Neelam, we must go!”

            Neelam nodded her feline head, ears flicking in assent, “When there is an opening, we will go, not before. You will be of no help if you die getting there.”

            Josephine begrudgingly acknowledged that Neelam was right. It was hard though. Even with blades clanging and the screams of men and horses dying around her, the pull to charge down that path was becoming insurmountable. I don’t have time for this. She thought.

            She had learned a long time ago, that, as the saying goes, “The sharpest knife is unseen.” As a lady and a foreigner, it paid to keep secrets about what she could and could not do. Her hands slipped out of her kimono. The left began to move in a series of subtle gestures, resulting the bandits’ armor stiffening before it began to shrink. The shriveling armor constricted the attackers’ movements, allowing Asai’s men to regain the upper hand.

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            Her right hand held a heavy pistol. Usually, shooting from the back of a horse was something that only a person of great skill would want to attempt, especially if that person was shooting at moving targets that were hidden behind allies. Josephine had two things in her favor; the first was that she had been taught how to shoot by her brother’s friend, Lord Farcical. Lord Farcical was a good enough shot that he could shoot the head off a striking cobra. The second thing in her favor was her knack for animals. Thanks to her knack, Hoshi Akari was not startled by the battle raging around him and would stand still for her to aim and fire.

            Abruptly, one of the guards was shoved aside and two bandits rushed through the opening. Lady Josephine shot the first in the chest. The bullets she used were designed to cause maximum destruction to anyone threatening her. Her guns weren’t used to injure, but to kill. The man’s momentum carried him forward, but only as a corpse. A hole the size of a grown man’s fist had appeared in his back.

            Neelam drew and threw a dagger in a smooth motion, taking the second brigand in the throat. His blood spurted across the snow, sizzling in the cold.

            Lady Josephine spurred her horse, “Yes!” Hoshi Akari, who resented being sprayed with blood, stomped on the offending corpse as she passed over it.

            Neelam retracted her claws before silently spurring her horse forward after the memsahib. Memsahib would never forgive me if I lost her. It would rend her reputation beyond repair.

            Asai Ken’ichi shouted something to the wagon drivers and their guards before he and the detachment of guards that had encircled Lady Josephine spurred their horses to catch up with their charge. In Japanese he shouted, “Faster you fools! If we lose her the emperor will be furious!”

            The dishonor on their clan would be terrible. It would better for them to lose the entire baggage train then to lose their charge. They spurred their horses faster.

            The darkness of night closed in on them, the snow fall became even heavier. No matter how fast their spurred their horses, they seemed to get no closer to Lady Josephine and her beastwoman maid. Their lanterns struggled to illuminate anything, but they could see a sharp white glow emanating from the black woman’s arms.

            Lady Josephine and Neelam rode through the snow. The storm howled around them ingravescent[5], the darkness closing in around them like sack cloth until Neelam shouted a word in Hindi and two glowing arms appeared from her shoulders. The brilliant light beat back the winter darkness, illuminating the trail so their horses’ steps were more sure and faster.

            A shack appeared ahead of them, just off the road. Lady Josephine and Neelam dismounted. The door of the shack was ajar, but if there was any light or warmth inside, it had long been extinguished.

            Neelam extended sharp talons from her hands; two long, spectral kora[6] blades shone like the sun in her glowing limbs. The blades were two feet long and seemed to sing in the wind. “Memsahib, please stand back and let me search the building.” Trusting her memsahib to stay back, she stalked into the dark room.

            The glow of her spectral arms illuminated the single room. A man, one that Neelam only noticed in her periphery, lay in the far corner. A pale woman, whose skin seemed almost translucent, in a white kimono with pale blue snowflakes emblazed on it knelt over a second, older man. She was bending down as if to kiss him with her stark blue lips when the light from Neelam fell on her. The white woman had no feet, however, Neelam couldn’t be certain if they were simply hidden by the kimono.

            She recoiled and stood. “I have no quarrel with your kind, why do you seek to interrupt my feeding?”

            Neelam sensed in her fur that she was supposed to recognize the white woman, she did not. “Memsahib was summoned here to stop you. I am her blade.”

            The white woman inhaled deeply and Neelam felt her fur stand on end. As the white woman exhaled bitter frost Neelam lashed out quick as a cobra with the twin kora blades. The white woman parried the spectral blades with claws of ice, but she couldn’t dodge the physical claws that Neelam brought to the woman’s belly, rending her.

            The frost had coated Neelam’s coat, but the otherworldly warmth she brought with her melted it in short order.

            The winter demon screamed and turned into snow, blowing herself on a wind that no human could feel out of the hut.

            Fear turned Neelam’s bowels to ice. What if the devil attacks memsahib? The beastwoman sprinted out of the hut. Upon seeing that the icy figure had reappeared and was fleeing into the dark night, she began to give chase.

            “Neelam! Come back!” Lady Josephine had turned away from the figure and gone into the hut and discovered the two men.

            “Memsahib, what if she seeks to come back?”

            Lady Josephine shook her head, “I doubt she will, but it hardly matters. She is a snow devil. She wasn’t leaving any footprints. You would have lost her trail sooner or later.” She pulled back the frost hardened blanket that covered the old man, “What if she had turned into a pile of snow? Or mist? Protect me if she comes back, don’t chase after phantoms.”

            Neelam hung her head in shame. She had let her desire to hunt overtake her sense. “Yes, of course, memsahib.”

            Lady Josephine laid a hand against the face of the older man. He was cold to the touch, but the snow woman had not been able to finish freezing him or the young man. With difficulty, Lady Josephine was able to rouse the older man. The younger man just lay there with his eyes staring wide.

            “Is he dead, memsahib?” Neelam peered at the men curiously.

            “No. It seems that that white woman petrified him so that he would watch the death of his master.” She nodded to the old man who was struggling to his feet, “We should build a fire to thaw them out of their stupor.”

            Asai Ken’ichi and the guards rushed into the hut, awe gripped his voice, “MacNeal-sama! You chased off a Yuki-onna, a Snow Woman.” His eyes alighted to the old man who was brushing frost from the front of his haori. The guide bowed low, saying in Japanese, “Hongo-sama, it is an honor to see you well. I have not seen you since your demonstration on Mount Fuji last summer. I have studied weapons all my life and I had never seen anything move so fast.”

            A smile quirked at Hongo-sama’s lips. He inclined his head, “You honor me with your remembrance.”

            Asai Ken’ichi introduced Hongo as: “Hongo-sama, the blade master. He is renowned for his skill.” And introduced Lady Josephine MacNeal as: “MacNeal-sama. She saved the life of my lord’s daughter. The emperor has sent for her to conduct business.”

            Hongo-sama smiled at Lady Josephine before bowing low to the ground, touching his head to the floor of the hut. The young man dropped into the bow smoothly, following his master’s example. Hongo-sama spoke in Japanese, “Let it not be said that we are without honor. A life debt must be paid.” He spoke with veneration, “Please accept my son, Hongo Kazuto-kun, into your esteemed service; his blade is sharp and quick. He would gladly trade his life for yours, for the honor of his house and yours.”

             Hongo-kun pulled out a katana and presented it to Lady Josephine. Unsure how to accept the blade without offending everyone, she followed her gut instinct. She took the blade in two hands and lifted it up while inclining her head slightly. This seemed to please everyone. Then, following that, to the shock of everyone in the room, excepting of course Neelam, Lady Josephine answered in flawless Japanese, “It will be my honor to take him into my services.” She nodded her head graciously, as she had seen some of the lords do. At least I was given a servant instead of a wife. My mother would roll in her grave if I came home with a foreign spouse! She considered for a moment, Or a wife!

            Asai-kun murmured to Neelam in English, “Your mistress is not upset with me for presuming she did not know Japanese, is she?”

            Neelam shook her head, “No, she has been practicing very hard at night. She appreciates your continued translation for her since she doesn’t consider herself a master of the language and does not wish to offend.”

            Asai-kun breathed a sigh of relief. It was clear to him that the gods and her ancestors were pulling strings so that powerful people would be in her debt. He had no desire to offend someone who had divine favor. “Your mistress will be a powerful force.”

            Neelam nodded, “She already is.”

[1] A Japanese, warm, padded jacket with kimono sleeves, used for cold weather wear. It is sometimes called a neneko.

[2] An eleven foot long sash that was wrapped around the waist, both securing the kimono and functioning like a corset

[3] The title Indian servants gave to their mistresses

[4] The outer jacket of a man’s kimono.

[5] Growing worse or more severe

[6] Kora swords range in length from 18-28 inches and are sharpened on the inside edge. The tip is weighted and curves forward, flaring out and down. It is useless for thrusting, but delivers crushing blows.