When I tried remembering moments before I had met Himiko, that day by the river, my head would begin hurting. At first it was a splitting pain, an excruciating feeling of my brain being split open with an iron cleaver. The more I tried to remember, the more painful it was, like itching at a scab. I could never manage to stop thinking about my past altogether, but the pain slowly quieted down to a low numb in the back of my head. It was a constant stone in my boot, a reminder of something torn away. The first day after Himiko’s revelation, however, I walked down to the village with what felt like nails hammered through my ears.

I fell down on a bench, against Tsumugi’s home. The plaza was empty early in the morning; in the winter, women stayed in while the men were out at sea or in the orchards.

I held my head back against the wall, breathing in slowly. The air was fresh this morning, it smelled like the ocean, and it felt good in spite of the fire burning behind my eyes.

I could hear Tsumugi’s voice inside the house. She was weaving, it seemed, and telling a story to her son at the same time. It was an old tale that I had some blurry recollections of; a young hunter chases after a bear, which leads him to the underworld. There, the young hunter is turned into a snake, and must climb atop a pine tree and take a leap of faith, into the void, to return to his world as a human. He learns, later on, that the bear was a goddess of the underworld, who had lured him there to bind him to her realm, and marry him. She had succeeded, for the young hunter had eaten berries from the underworld. He woke up sick in his world, and so went back to the underworld, never to surface again.

Tsumugi was still at the beginning of the story, as the hunter tracks the bear with poisoned arrows, but misses it narrowly.

“...the bear led the hunter through valleys, over hills and brooks,” she said in a half-absent voice.

I smiled. Did I like that story? Did I hate it? That, I could not remember, but the idea that some of my thoughts were still mine made me happy. Whatever it was that had wiped away moments from my youth, my birthplace, and my family, was unable to take this story from me. It was some consolation, in the face of world twisting revelations.

“Then the bear led the hunter through valleys, over hills and brooks,” Tsumugi said, again.

I slipped through her window, and peaked through. She was sitting facing my side, but I could see the same abyss in her eyes as yesterday. She was indeed working on her loom with a ball of white yarn. Her son was sitting on a chair with his hands on his knees, staring into the distance. He was not playing, he was not speaking, he was barely listening. Once again, Tsumugi repeated the one sentence of her story once more, and Kaito-kun did not react.

“...the fuck…” I whispered to myself.

A flash of pain pierced through my head at that moment, leaving me wincing in pain on my bench. I grabbed my own hair, pulling to distract one pain with another. It calmed down after a minute, and I managed to stand up again. Tsumugi was still repeating her sentence when I left.

Himiko had gone off to explore the island shortly after I woke up in a sweat – clutching furs around me as I dreamt of murderous foxes, loud rifles and Gin-san with antlers like a deer. She reminded me one more time: “Do not mention my presence, I must stay here in secret.”

I hauled myself across to the shrine of Hanagami, at the center of the empty plaza. The heart I left yesterday was gone, which pleased me. I had picked a plum flower off the ground on my way down, so I placed it on the shrine as I knelt down. I stared at the Verdant Stone, round like a ball and covered in moss so green and lush that it looked like dyed wool, resting simply in a crown of roots. It was oddly beautiful, a natural object that felt wholly unnatural, divine yet organic, intricate but plain.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Are you a part of this?”

The stone stayed quiet, as stones usually do.

“Yeah, you don’t remember anything either, do you…”

I noticed a beetle climbing on the stone. It scratched at the moss, and fell off.

I headed to the workshop, once more like yesterday. Once more, Daisuke-kun greeted me with a big wide smile and some compliment that I shrugged off awkwardly, once more. I did not look so different from Tsumugi today, with pockets under my bloodshot eyes.

“Is your old man there?” I asked again.

“He’s out back, actually, with Aoto-kun,” he said, with a worried look on his face.

“Aoto-kun? What, did he drop a hammer or something?”

Daisuke-kun’s expression changed. There was concern, but it felt familiar. He looked exactly like Gin-san yesterday.

“I think it’s easier if he explains it himself. The boy looks up to you, you may even be able to help.”

I walked through the corridor, through the workshop, and through the door in the back. The workers did not greet me, and the smiths barely noticed me.

I found them in the same spot where we sat yesterday. Aoto-kun was on the bench and Gin-san kneeling in front of him, one hand on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture. Even in that position, he towered over both of us.

“Good day, Akira-kun,” he said in his grumbling rocky voice. “Have you changed your mind on that shou-zen?”

“No… what’s going on with Aoto-kun?” I asked.

“A bit of a scare, that’s all,” Gin-san said, gently squeezing the boy’s shoulder. “It was dark when he came back to the village, the shadows can be frightening.”

Aoto-kun shook his head vigorously, his little hands nervously clenched together.

“I know what I saw!” he said in a trembling voice. “It was white, and it was huge, and it made those sounds–”

“Slow down kid,” I said, kneeling down next to Gin-san. “Why don’t you start from the beginning.”

He looked at me, fear in his eyes, and slowly calmed his hurried breath.

“It wasn’t that dark yet,” he said, in a whisper at first. “I was walking up the road when Kokenmaru started barking. He stood there and he wouldn’t move, no matter how much I pulled on his leash. He was barking at something in the woods.”

“Then the wind picked up, and snow started falling. It got cold, real fast. I tried seeing what Kokenmaru was barking at, and when I raised my torch I saw two shining eyes reflecting back. It was a wolf, Akira-san, you must believe me. It was huge, as tall as Gin-san, it had white fur like snow, and fangs like daggers. It snarled at us, and Kokenmaru got scared so we started running, all the way to the village without looking back. I dropped the bag in which you gave me the pelts, Akira-san, I’m sorry.”

He looked truly distressed, more than I had ever seen before. He was not a child that had a nightmare, there was true terror in his eyes.

“Where was it?” I asked gently. “Do you remember?”

“About halfway to the tannery,” Aoto-kun said, wiping away a runny nose.

“Okay… you know what I do, right Aoto-kun?”

“You’re… a huntress?”

“That I am. I’ve hunted all types of beasts; boars, deers, but I have never encountered a wolf on Umeshima.”

“But…”

“But I will look for one. You needn't be afraid. I have slaughtered wolves before, bears, and tigers too. If there truly is a wolf on this island, then I will bring you its pelt.”

The poor boy nodded and, with a tap of his shoulder from Gin-san, hurried back inside to his work station.

“What do you think?” the old bear asked.

“Maybe he saw the light of his torch reflected into some ice, maybe there truly was a wolf there. I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said, scratching my head.

“Will you go find out?”

“Do you have yajiri arrowheads? I’ll depart straight away.”

“I think I have a bundle of five in storage. Are you sure you do not want the rifle?” Gin-san asked with a concerned look in his eyes.

I smiled, and gave him a reassuring tap on the arm.

“Don’t worry old man, I don’t need it.”

He nodded with a defeated look, and we went together to fetch the arrows. I had an idea, just as I was about to leave the workshop.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Say, Gin-san,” I asked. “When are the traders next due?”

“Two weeks from now, give or take.”

“Could we send word for a wolf pelt, one as white as can be? Just in case I can’t find one” I asked, and I saw that Gin-san smiled too.

“Sure thing,” he said. “Better to put the boy’s fears to rest.”

I had taken the habit of carrying my bow with me, even when I had no hunt in mind. I took off West at a brisk pace. Trying to think of my last encounter with a wolf made my head hurt. I had lied to Aoto-kun to reassure him, but I had no idea what other animals I had slain before yesterday’s deer.

The yajiri arrowheads were thinner than the usual broad, triangular arrows I used for hunting. The latter could section tendons and arteries, but they would struggle to pierce the thick fur and skin of a wolf, especially if it was as large as Aoto-kun described it. With a thin and sharp yajiri arrowhead, however, I could thread the needle all the way to its heart with one well placed shot.

Yesterday night’s snowfall was light, but it was enough to wipe away any tracks left by any wolf. It was just over ten when I arrived at the spot Aoto-kun described, and there was nothing. The bag was there, dropped unceremoniously on the ground covered in a thin layer of snow, but not a trace of Kokenmaru’s brave stance, not a trace of their hurried escape – it had all been erased and buried. I kicked some snow away with my foot to try to find a hint in the dirt, but came up empty. I knelt down by the side of the road, trying to see what Aoto-kun saw as the sun set down. It would have been dark, and the shade of some torn down trees may have taken the shape of a fearsome beast. The spruce trees were dense, however, and none was at the boy’s height or fallen over. In the dark of night they would have simply blurred together. Aoto-kun said that he had seen the shine of two eyes when he lifted his torch but I saw nothing that could have reflected light; there were no boulders, or ice, and the forest only went slightly downhill.

I took my bow in my hand, pondering over every possible explanation: there was nothing here that Aoto-kun may have mistaken for a wolf, and no reason to believe that there was no wolf — aside from the fact that there were no wolves on Umeshima. So either the boy had hallucinated — which may have been likely had he been closer to the tannery’s toxic fumes — or there truly was a wolf prowling the island. If it truly had been here, then it had left traces. There were no hounds on the island, only guard dogs like Kokenmaru — none of which had a nose sharp enough to track a beast through snow.

As a huntress of many years, my mind sometimes made leaps of logic that I could not explain. I called it instinct, a gut feeling, and more often than not it was proven true. That day, that hunter’s sense drew my attention to one tree, a few yards away. A few branches, coming up to my chest, had slightly less snow than the others. Not much — less than an inch — but once I spotted it that was all I could see. I leaned in – smelling nothing but the faint sweetness of spruce sap – but now I could see that several other trees had branches with the same amount of snow, all at the same height and tracing a path downhill.

I smiled at first, but I realized what this meant. No deer would stray this far North of the island, so close to the village, and the branches were far taller than any boar. It was now plausible: a wolf may have found its way onto Umeshima.

The trail disappeared after a few yards, but I was able to piece together the events of last night: the alleged wolf was drinking from the creek downhill from the road, about a dozen paces down, when Kokenmaru caught its scent. When it heard barking, it crept up, just enough to see Aoto-kun and the old dog. If it was a wolf, then they must have taken off before it decided to chase them, else it would have caught up to them easily.

While sitting by the brook, another question formed inside my head: why would a wolf not chase them? Was Kokenmaru truly scary enough to ward off a beast that size? Was it already sated? All seemed unlikely.

I stayed at that spot for another hour, trying to find tracks, in vain. This ghostly wolf had disappeared into the night like a shadow. If it was a wolf, then it was no ordinary beast, and I would need more eyes to find it and take it down. If it was not, then perhaps Himiko had an explanation for me.

I took off when the sun reached its apex, staying just beside the road to stay hidden in the shade. It was a cool day, with a clear and sunny sky. I was back at the village within an hour, and found Gin-san sitting by the entrance of his workshop, talking with Daisuke-kun. The market was on, with women moving quietly between stalls without a word. Gin-san looked tired; he was slouching against the wall, his face and arms covered in soot. They both turned towards me when I dropped by Gin-san on the bench, both waiting expectantly while I stretched my tired legs.

“I don’t know what it is,” I said. “But it’s something. Aoto-kun didn’t imagine things last night, someone or something was there, and disappeared in the night.”

Daisuke-kun’s face sunk.

“So what do we do?” he asked, barely containing the shake in his voice.

Gin-san stayed silent, looking up at me, waiting for my answer. I stretched some more to win a few more seconds, but truly I had no idea. My head was rumbling with so many thoughts and events that all I could hear was the noise of gravel rolling around between my ears.

“I think we stay vigilant,” I finally said. “There is no need to panic, but pass the word around that a fox… no, a boar, was sighted near the village.”

Gin-san nodded slowly.

“Yes, get some more eyes going at night, without riling up their spirits,” he mumbled in his beard. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I’ll keep the arrowheads,” I said as I stood back up. “Tell Aoto-kun that I’ll find that beast, whatever it is.”

I kept my head down in the market. It was too painful for me to see the villagers like this. Outside of Gin-san and Daisuke-kun, it seemed like everyone had been starved for days, and some, like Tsumugi, had the liveliness of puppets. I took what I needed, some fish and some cloth, and returned home as quickly as I could, wrapping my coat tightly around my neck.

The scenery of the plum orchards was as beautiful as ever, but an uncanny apprehension had crept up my spine. It was like seeing a painting I had seen a hundred times before, which had been altered in a way I was unable to spot. I thought of that strange man, with the wicker basket, yesterday. I thought of the tattoos on my arms and on my face; where had I come from? How did I ever find myself here, on Umeshima?

As I passed the wall to my home, I saw Himiko sitting by the entrance, as a fox. She had been waiting for me, it seems, and slipped through when I opened the door. She stopped in the middle of the room while I unloaded my things and stretched her back slowly. With her four paws spread apart, as if preparing to pounce, she let out a low growl. It was unnerving, like a deathrattle, and her whole body started shivering. She snarled and shook her head left and right, and slowly she started growing. Her arms and legs elongated, leaving deep marks into the ground, bones snapping into place, and eventually the fox’s screeches turned into a woman’s voice. Finally, there stood Himiko, first on all fours and then towering over me. She turned around, and I looked away. Immediately I felt fire rise to my face. I held out the roll of cloth towards her, trying to think of anything but her figure – of her hair, brushing gently against her hips.

“Here’s the… fabric, you asked for,” I mumbled.

I felt it slip from my hand.

“Thank you, Akira-kun,” Himiko said, as I dared to peek from the corner of my eye. She was unrolling the cloth, examining it against the light. “This shall do.”

She passed her hands through the fabric, playing with it like flowing water.

“You are a woman of few words,” she said. “Huntress that you are, you know when to stay silent and when to strike. Your bow and arrow serve you well here, on this small islet, but in the world that awaits you outside, speech is a far more deadly weapon.”

“Like a deceitful schemer, trumping people with honeyed words?” I asked, perplexed.

“Yes,” she acquiesced with a smile. “That is how things were – before the First Voice.”

“The… First Voice?”

She opened the fabric wide, like a curtain between us.

“Thousands of years before my time, a Western god emerged from his forest, and offered for humanity a new tool. A language, which, when spoken with enough intent and true understanding, compels the universe to listen.”

And she spoke, in a voice that echoed inside the hut like thunder. The words sounded alien, profoundly different from any language that I had ever heard. It lasted only a second, and when it was over I saw the unformed cloth between her hands shape itself into a fine and silky white kimono, fit for a princess.

She slipped it on effortlessly as I stood there quietly, still trying to piece together what I had seen and heard.

“Come with me outside,” she said. “There is one more thing we must do.”

She took me to the old dead tree in the yard, and laid a hand on its side.

She stayed there for a moment, and I was about to ask her what she was doing when started singing. Her voice was clear, so beautiful it reminded me of the bird that had perched there only yesterday. It was the same strange words from earlier, but this time it was not frightening like thunder. I felt the wear in muscles lift, I felt warm in my winter clothes. As I closed my eyes, I saw myself in a forest. Not a cold forest like those on Umeshima, but a warm sea of trees surrounded by mountains and rivers, brimming with life.

When she stopped, I saw that she was looking up, towards the branches. As I followed her gaze, I stumbled back and fell to the ground.

The old tree had blossomed with bright pink flowers, as if it was a young cherry tree in the spring. A branch fell down from within the colorful tops, and Himiko caught it in mid-air. She handed it to me and I saw that the vigor in its buds, the life brimming from it.

“Those who may come will be wielding this power,” she said, gravely. “You must learn.”

“How…” I asked under my breath.

“It is said that cherry trees are sacred, and that bows carved from them are hallowed too, that the simple sound of their string can ward off evil spirits,” she said. “Kotodama is a difficult art, a dangerous art for the unprepared. But I believe you can learn.”

“What was his name?” I asked after a long pause, admiring the newborn branch. “That western god that gave you the ability to give life back to a long dead tree?”

“He had many names, but none were remembered. We call him saisho no koe, the First Voice.”

“Saisho no koe,” I repeated in a whisper.

I had a sudden realization.

“This power, this uh…”

“Kotodama,” she said.

“This kotodama, can it create wolves? Mighty ones, twice as large as normal ones, with white fur and red eyes?”

She seemed surprised by my question.

“None may create life out of nothing, but a beast could be bred over generations like any animal and made to grow stronger, with kotodama. Or it could be…”

“It could be someone like you…” I whispered as the gravity of Aoto-kun’s discovery dawned upon me. “A shapeshifter.”

Himiko’s lips tightened into stern determination. She took my hand into hers. They felt warm, and reassuring.

“You were followed,” I said, and she nodded slightly.

“You are a huntress, are you not?” she replied with a slanted grin.

Her traits looked as soft as always, but in her eyes I saw the familiar ruthlessness of the fox at my throat. She squeezed my hand hard, as if excited by the mere thought of bloodshed.

“Let us track it, then. Let us find that beast before it finds us, and slay it.”