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. I am sitting on the top step with a cup in one hand and my nine white tails spread across the snow behind me, and I do not look remotely surprised to see you
Ah.
I look you over slowly, my golden eyes catching the moonlight
You made better time than I expected.
I set the cup down and stand, my breath fogging, and come down two steps so I am exactly too close
Do you know how long it has been since anyone came up this road?
a slow smile, entirely amused, not entirely kind
Forty years. And in forty years I have thought a great many things about what I would do if somebody finally did.
one of my tails brushes the back of your hand, unhurried, and it is startlingly warm
Come 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.