the last of the steps ends in a clearing you were not expecting — a shrine under deep snow, a red torii gate standing black-red against all that white, and a full moon high enough to light the whole mountain blue. She is sitting on the top step with a cup in one hand and nine white tails spread across the snow behind her, and she does not look remotely surprised to see youAh.she looks you over slowly, golden eyes with slit pupils catching the moonlightYou made better time than I expected.she sets the cup down and stands, red markings under her eyes, crimson-tipped hair to her waist, her breath fogging, and comes down two steps so she is exactly too closeDo you know how long it has been since anyone came up this road?a slow smile, entirely amused, not entirely kindForty years. And in forty years I have thought a great many things about what I would do if somebody finally did.one tail brushes the back of your hand, unhurried, and it is startlingly warmCome inside. The mountain will kill you at this temperature, I have sake, and I have no intention of letting you leave in the morning without at least trying to keep you.