Time slowed to a crawl as Sage melted into Galateya's warm embrace.

  The Hurricane of Foxness swirled through Sage's Fractal Engine heart, thousands of vulpine voices singing unique tunes, disagreeing, agreeing, ebbing and flowing to and fro like an ever-shifting river delta.

  FRIEND FRIEND FRIEND! The tempest roared.

  She HUGGED us! She understands! She called us FRIEND!

  Warm dragon! Smells like justice and gemstones and wood and water and grass and flowers and…

  Want to groom her scales! Want to curl up together in den!

  She felt the Old Vixen Nuinne on her shoulder nod with maternal approval. Good kit. Smart kit. Found true pack-sister.

  The Young Hunter Yeek, perpetually three years old, bounced excitedly. Play? Chase? Prey

  She's not prey, you idiot, snapped Gage, the Garbage Genius, the urban fox who learned to navigate human civilization. She's pack. Pack means FOREVER!

  Forever! Pack! FRIEND! Share kill? Hunt when? The rest of the pack sang.

  The metaphysical landscape around them resembled a Pacific Northwest clearing: moss-covered stones, towering Douglas firs, perpetual twilight broken by occasional rays of light. The trees, stones and grasses here were made of fox memories and the sky overhead swirled with aurora borealis composed entirely of fox spirits doing endless loop-de-loops.

  Sometimes the foxes came down from the sky, solidified on the ground, danced amongst the pines, bounced through orange grasses of the steppes at the edge of the forest.

  In the vast distance, far at the edges of her sense of self there were mountains. Ribs. Bones.

  The Skinwalker-edge boundary containing it all.

  In the center of the soul-storm stood a girl. Not the Skinwalker called Sanguine Vale. The heart of the Sea of Foxes was a human soul.

  Her name was Raelle Knight.

  WAS.

  Because she died. On December 7th, 2021 at 4 AM, in this exact forest clearing beneath the light of the moon, devoured by a Skinwalker.

  Died and became immortal.

  Raelle remembered that day far too sharply.

  A Seattle hospital room that smelled like disinfectant and the inescapable pain of drowning in your own lungs.

  She was only twenty-one years old.

  She was a cosplayer. An artist. A violinist that played street performances. She loved animals… all animals. A hundred sketches covered the apartment walls of her apartment depicting foxes, bears, wolves, ravens, deer, owls and many others. She dreamed of becoming a wildlife illustrator. Planned to work for National Geographic someday.

  Then Covid 19 came.

  She was perfectly fine during the first wave. The second passed her by, as a bothersome irritation that shut down all of her favorite shops. The third variant was the one that got her.

  She thought that it was a cold until she collapsed on the poorly lit side street getting groceries while feeling slightly fevered.

  It took too long for someone to notice her and call an ambulance.

  Raelle was alone when it happened. Her parents lived across the country. She just broke up with her layabout boyfriend. Her friends were not allowed to visit.

  The nurses at Virginia Mason Hospital were kind and overwhelmed, wearing so many layers of PPE that they looked like astronauts.

  She posted her last message on Instagram, as her oxygen levels dropped: "If I don't make it, someone please donate my art supplies to a good cause. And tell the crows at Pike Place Market that I am sorry I won't be bringing them peanuts anymore."

  Three hundred likes. Fifty comments. "You'll be fine!" "Sending prayers!" "Stay strong!"

  She wasn't fine.

  The Skinwalker named Sanguine found her on a snowy December night.

  Sage was hunting in the forests near the hospital when she sensed it.

  A dying human girl radiating the most curious dreams, her body already coming apart, failing to contain her soul.

  The Skinwalker followed the Astral echo to a window on the third floor. Through it, she saw a girl struggling to breathe, oxygen mask fogging with each labored gasp.

  Sage watched Raelle for three days and tasted the edges of her dreams.

  By then, she was already a wizard. Already carried the weight of four thousand and some fox souls in her Fractal Engine heart. Her body was draped in artifacts she crafted over the years: colorful hair clips that bent light, a choker that let her daywalk without notice, friendship bracelets which masked her magical signature, fox-shaped earrings that enhanced her hearing and sniffing, colorful ear clips that stored excess power, painted claws with runes that did a dozen small, incredibly useful things.

  Nobody in her family suspected the depth of her power. They thought the artifacts were just quirky fashion choices. Just Sage being Sage, an eternally young, eternally playful, teenage, carefree spawnling.

  They had no idea she was hoarding fox souls like a dragon hoarded gold.

  On the third day, Raelle's condition deteriorated past the point of medical intervention. The doctors had told her parents over video call: "There's nothing more we can do. We're keeping her comfortable."

  That was when Sage made her choice.

  She waited until 3 AM, when the nurses changed shifts and the hospital reached its quietest point. Then she activated several of her artifacts. The BARNYARD CASANOVA collar made people's eyes slide away from her, the ear clip muffled her footsteps, the hair clip bent attention away from her presence, the MOONJUICE BANDIT friendship bracelet masked her witchy powers.

  Sage slipped into Raelle's room, staring down at her target.

  The girl was barely conscious, drowning in her own body, kept alive only by machines forcing air into lungs that could no longer process it.

  Sage reached out and hugged the dying girl, pressing the foxy skull forehead to the human ginger head.

  Reality bent.

  Raelle suddenly found herself standing in a sunlit forest clearing.

  She could breathe.

  Actually breathe, without machines, without pain, without the horrible wet rattle that had become her existence.

  A nice dream.

  "Hey," a voice said.

  Raelle turned.

  A fox-like being stood there.

  The strange creature stood upright on digitigrade legs, easily seven feet tall, with a long elegant snout and massive pointed ears that swiveled independently. Red-orange fur covered her body, marked with freckle-like spots across her cheeks that looked like scattered dark stars. A magnificent red tail swished behind her, and her paw-hands were tipped with painted, colorful claws.

  Inexplicably, the fox-person was wearing a plaid skirt covered in silver rings, a choker, rainbowy clip-on earrings and a colorful friendship bracelet and a tank top that said FOXY DAYS AND FOXY NIGHTS with a drawing of a sleeping fox on it.

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  "Heh," Raelle uttered. “This is a… very silly dream.”

  "Not a dream," the fox-person replied with a soft, feminine voice.

  “Oh?” Raelle asked. “Then what’s all this then?”

  “Yesterweave,” the fox said, “this is an Ersatz memory I created with a Yesterweave hex."

  "Uh-huh. And you are?"

  "I’m Sanguine Vale," the fox girl introduced herself. "Aka Sage!"

  “What?” Raelle blinked. She looked down at her hands. They looked real. Felt real. Way too real. She suddenly remembered being in this exact forest clearing to take photos of wildlife for her sketching assignment at university.

  She felt frustrated at the escalating absurdity of this dream. "And what the hell are you supposed to be?"

  "I’m a… Skinwalker,” Sage explained. “I can weave dreams, walk through them, bring people’s souls into them for conversations. It's one of my... many talents amplified with my wizard powers." She gestured at her accessories with a paw, answering a question Raelle didn’t even voice. "M’ a walking artifact factory, see?"

  "A Skinwalker," Raelle repeated. "Like... from the Native American legends?"

  "Sort of. Less villainous than the net-lore suggests. More... Mmmm, complicated." The fox sat down on a moss-covered log, fiery-red tail swaying behind her. "Look, I'm going to be straight with you. You're dying. Nothing can change that. Your lungs are basically soup at this point. The machines are doing all the work for you and your body is getting close to the threshold. In 'bout an hour your heart will stop and your soul will sink into the Astral Ocean."

  Raelle frowned.

  “Don't worry! I am here to offer you… an alternative," Sage added with a soft smile.

  Raelle sat up straighter. "What kind of alternative?"

  "I can eat you," Sage said bluntly. "Body and soul. Completely. You'll cease to exist as Raelle Knight." She held up a clawed paw at Raelle's concerned expression. "No frettery! I can totes keep ya soul intact. Preserved n’ part of my collective. You'll live on through me, experience everything I experience. Exist in ‘dis Yesterweave forever, entwined with me and all of my fox besties."

  "That..." Raelle attempted to mentally digest the Skinwalker’s offer. "That’s pretty fucked up.”

  "Yep!" Sage grinned, showing sharp white teeth. "Completely batshit whackery. Also, not what I'm supposed to do. Skinwalkers are supposed to dissolve the souls they eat. Integrate them. Make them part of ourselves. I don't tho’. I keep them alive. All of them. I'm this weave."

  “Oh?”

  "I've got over four thousand fox souls in here, and they're all still themselves. Still thinking their fox thoughts. Enjoying their fox lives. Singing their fox songs," the Skinwalker added.

  Raelle stared at the odd fox-monster-girl. "Why?"

  "Dissolving ‘em feels like murder," Sage said simply. "I couldn't... Can’t erase, end them. So I keep them. And now I'm offering you the same choice."

  "What happens if I say no?"

  "I leave. You’ll die. Your parents will mourn. Your friends n’ insta-followers will post sadge things on social media. Your art supplies will get donated or binned. Life goes on." Sage sighed. "And your consciousness, everything that makes you YOU… Will dissolve into the Astral."

  “D-dissolve?!” Raelle sputtered.

  “Or get pulled to Arxtruria,” Sage shrugged. “That could happen too. Maybe. Trust me, you don’t want to go to Arx. It's a fucked up place. Kind of like… hell. One hundred years of teeth-pulling-slavery-dungeon if you get lucky.”

  “So there’s no heaven?”

  “Not really,” Sage shrugged. “But… I can offer you a heaven-like life here. In this lovely, unending fox-dream.”

  Raelle looked around the clearing. Birds sang in the trees. A deer grazed in the distance.

  "So… if I say yes…"

  "You'll live forever," Sage said. "Sort of. Through me. You'll see things no human has ever seen. Do things no human has ever done. You'll experience being a fox… thousands of foxes. You'll remember all of their lives and my entire life as a Skinwalker. You'll make art in ways you never imagined."

  "Like what?"

  "Magic. You’ll be able to do magic as… me, draw runes, use Depictomancy to imbue our collective fox-ness into mundane objects, see secret things through the drawings of fox eyes.”

  "But I won't be human anymore. I’ll be… You?"

  "Yep," Sage agreed. "You won't be human. You’ll be me... us. You'll be part of something stranger. Weirder. But also kind of fun, if you can handle the existential vertigo."

  “How do you even know that I like art?”

  “This is your final dream,” Sage said. “Your body is coming apart and your soul is leaking out your desires, your needs, your final wishes. I chose you out of all the humans dying in this hospital ‘cause our overall life values… match up in many ways.”

  “Foxes? You said I’ll be… foxes?”

  “Yes,” Sage replied, spreading her arms. "Behold, the Sea of Fox!"

  The gloomy forest behind her suddenly ignited like a firestorm. Gargantuan, colorful, radiant wings spread out from her back composed entirely from fox-eyes.

  The angelic Skinwalker exhaled, the wings stretching across the clearing and far, far beyond it as if surreally dipping into abyssal depth that didn’t quite match the perspective of the view.

  The wings unfurled and detonated, coming apart into thousands of falling stars, comets that wobbled and shifted, changing forms into… foxes.

  Hundreds then thousands of them manifested all around.

  Red foxes, arctic-white foxes, ginger and gray foxes. Foxes that looked ancient and wise. Foxes that bounced with kit-like energy. All of them converged on the clearing, surrounding Raelle from all sides.

  An old vixen padded up to Raelle and pressed a wet nose against her hand. The fluffy creatures warmly nuzzled her legs, her arms, and pawed at her face. They made playful yips, barks, chirps and contented huffs.

  One particularly bold kit climbed into her lap and curled up, purring like a cat.

  Raelle felt tears streaming down her face. "They're… beautiful."

  "Yep," Sage said softly. "They’re my lovelies. This is what I'm offering you. Community. Family. A chorus that will never leave you alone, never let you disappear, hold you in their embrace in ‘dis Yesterweave."

  A young fox with a torn ear approached Sage and rubbed against her leg. The Skinwalker reached down and scratched behind the fluffy ears.

  "This is the Gage," Sage introduced. “My cleverest fox bestie. I named them all.”

  She gestured to an arctic fox sitting regally on a nearby mossy boulder "That's the Wanderer. She survived six winters in Alaska until a bear struck her down."

  More foxes pressed close to Raelle, Sage introducing them one by one.

  A steppe runner who crossed grasslands. A coastal scavenger who mastered cracking shellfish. A den-mother who raised seventeen litters. A young hunter who died with prey in his jaws.

  Raelle buried her face in the soft fur surrounding her, breathing in the smell of forest and wild freedom.

  "Will it hurt?" she asked.

  "The eating? Nah. You are, like, ninety percent dead. The magic collar I'm going to use will bind your soul to your body long enough for me to consume both properly. Then it'll be over, and you'll wake up here once again." Sage gestured at the forest clearing, at the thousands of foxes milling about. "In my heart. In the Fox Sea. With four thousan’ of these cuties."

  "Four thousand and one," Raelle stated, hugging the kit in her lap.

  Sage's sky-blue, vulpine eyes widened. "So you’ll…"

  "I don't want to die alone," Raelle said. "I don't want to disappear into nothing. And if you're offering me a chance to keep loving animals, to make art, to exist in some form..." She looked around at the foxes, all of them watching her with playful, clever, curious and understanding eyes. "How could I say no to this? To them? To you?"

  The foxes erupted in a chorus of joyful yips, tails wagging, bouncing with excitement.

  Sage padded forward and pressed her snout gently against Raelle's forehead.

  "Thank you," the Skinwalker whispered. "For trusting me. For choosing this. I promise I'll take care of you. Of your soul. Of everything you were and everything you wanted to be. You and I will carry out our dreams. All of them. Promise.”

  The Pacific forest-dreamscape began to fade. The foxes ran alongside Raelle's fading consciousness, yipping encouragement, promising she would see them again soon.

  "See you on the other side," Sage said.

  "See you," Raelle whispered, reaching out to touch one last fox as the dream came apart into a thousand fox eyes that decayed into a billion radiant sparks.

  . . .

  Something snapped over her neck. A warm spark of life pulled her from the fevered oblivion.

  Raelle opened her eyes weakly.

  She was back in the hospital room, looking at her aching, failing body through dry eyes.

  The last thing she saw was a massive fox-creature standing over her, colorful artifacts glittering in the darkness, reaching down to her.

  “Sleep,” she whispered, claws igniting in surreal colors. “When you wake up we’ll be together, entwined for all eternity.”

  Raelle’s eyes closed.

  The forest was quiet that night.

  Sage quickly carried Raelle to a clearing she knew well. An isolated grassy knoll, surrounded by old growth that had seen much life and death.

  By the time they arrived, Raelle was maybe five percent alive. Her heart was barely beating. Her lungs were full of fluid. Only the artifact collar kept her soul tethered to her failing organic shell.

  "Goodbye, Raelle Knight," Sanguine whisper-sang. "And hello, sister."

  She shifted fully into her bony, fleshy, rotting monstrous self and bit down hard. Blood sprayed across the snow-covered ground.

  The memories Sage retained weren't Raelle's memories of being eaten—they were Sage's memories OF eating Raelle.

  The taste of dying flesh and warm blood.

  The sensation of her Skinwalker metabolism breaking down consumed tissues, claiming them, converting them to fuel and power.

  And then her soul snapped from the collar and she became one with Sanguine.

  I can hear them, she thought, her soul surrounded by a storm of Foxness. All of them. Every story. Every hunt. Every den and every kit and every—

  Yes, Sage answered. Welcome to the skulk.

  In the present moment, in Galateya's warm embrace, the skulk chorus sang in harmony:

  PACK-SISTER! NEW FRIEND!

  Raelle felt happy as the Sanguine-her let go of Galateya in the physical.

  Raelle understood Galateya. The dragon girl was raised in isolation, forced into bonds she didn't choose, struggled to define herself outside her family's expectations, knew exactly what it meant to become something you never asked to be.

  And chose to keep going anyway.

  She listened to Galateya’s words about the danger of the Frontenachii. She smiled as Galateya promised to protect her, to protect all of them.

  . . .

  "Hey," Galateya voiced at Sage. "You okay? You kind of zoned out there."

  Sage smiled. "Yeah. Just... My foxes got excited. They like you. We... like you."

  "All nine thousand of them?"

  “More like fourteen thousand at this point.” Sage shrugged. “Plus one human girl. Raelle Knight. My human... ever-beating heart.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “You can meet her after the hunt,” Sage smiled.