[1/2]
You were six years-old when you found me. I was your age, by the measure of my kind. You peered at me, fear overcome by concern for the small, lonely creature crumpled over some leaves. You, with your eyes gleaming, spoke softly to me, whispering words of comfort. You only wanted to help me.
I should have run. I should have conjured an illusion with what strength I had left, and frightened you off. I did not, and didn’t struggle when you took my false form into your arms. Your human dress, flowing and elegant, was stained by nature.
You weren’t meant to be out here.
"I’ll take care of you," you said. You carried me to a stream and cleansed my wounds. I didn’t flee, despite the pain. Without a moment’s hesitation, you tore your robe and mended my wounds. I tried to express my gratitude, and I believe you understood me.
There was a shout from afar. Your guardians had come looking for you. I sprung off your lap, and you regarded me.
"I'll come back," you promised, as the shouting grew louder.
I blinked slowly at you in response, silent so as not to frighten you.
You smiled, and ran off.
I did not expect to see you again.
Night had fallen by the time you returned, in a different dress and with your hair down.
"Little fox," you called in a hushed whisper, "are you still here?"
I let my paws crush the foliage. You looked scared, for a moment, until I entered the moonlit clearing. You relaxed, and the stars were reflected in your eyes.
"You’re safe," you said, with relief in your eyes, "how have you been?"
I couldn’t respond, for fear of giving away my identity. I instead trotted by your legs, and pushed my head against your calves. You giggled, and knelt down to pet me.
"I’m glad you’re all right," you said. "What horrid monster hurt you?"
No monster, I didn’t reply, only my own idiocy.
We settled down on the earth, you leaning against the base of a tree, and myself in your lap. We regarded the moon, and you spoke of yourself.
Your name is Lisa, and you are a princess, I learnt. The daughter of the Emperor of what the future will classify as the Song Dynasty. As a younger sister to an older brother, you felt rather…
"It’s of no matter," you hurriedly corrected, you accepted your role.
You grew drowsy and tired, so I nudged you with the top of my head. You should return home.
"You’re right," you admitted, "I should hurry back before someone realises I’m gone."
You’ll return, you promised, once again. Perhaps not as soon as this night, but you will come find me eventually.
How pointless, a part of me sneered. I couldn’t feed from you even if I wished to. What was the point of accompanying a human?
But you returned, again, and again. You brought human delicacies from your kitchens, and stories of your human life. You taught me human poems and songs, though you admitted, it was partially to test your own memory. You drew lines in the dust, and told me their meanings.
You named me Eva. I indulged you. I had names, but none you could ever repeat.
**
It was a year, before I decided to join you.
I lead you back to the stream you healed me in. I motioned towards the waters, and you understood I wished to show you something. Far from something in your reflection, I stepped away, and took form.
"There is nothing here," you were saying, before your neck prickled and hairs stood on end. You turned, and saw me.
The look on your face is something I cherish to this day.
You blinked, very quickly, mouth opening and closing like a confused fish. Finally, at last, you called me… beautiful.
"Thank you," I said aloud, and you startled, slapping your hands over your mouth. Words tumbled through your fingers, shock and awe and amazement.
"How?" you asked. "All this time?"
I apologised for deceiving you. You recalled myths and lore of fox spirits, that entice men and murder them for their energy.
"You are not a man," I told you. I had seen those humans perceive as female, who had the energy I could consume to maintain myself, but you were not one of them.
"I understand," you said, or as you admit, you believed you understood. "What do you want?" you ask. Did I plan to usurp your father?
"No," I said, as honestly as I am conniving. "I wish no harm to you."
"I am not my father," you replied.
I only wanted your companionship, I told you. Nothing more. I enjoyed your presence.
You stared at me, perplexed, and finally nodded.
"All right," you said. "But, you must promise me something."
"Anything," I replied.
"Don’t leave my side," you pleaded. "Don’t leave me alone."
I took your hands, and stared into your eyes.
"I will never abandon you."
And I never did.
**
I appeared in your life as a new servant. You were stunned and surprised, but you kept yourself quiet and didn’t draw attention to me. In the nights, I met with you in your room, unnoticed by your family’s guards.
"Thank you," you said, embracing my human form. I appeared older than you, but you were still as tactile as you had been to my previous body. "Thank you."
So for years, as you grew older, I accompanied you. I maintained my guise, and aged so slightly. The other servant girls envied my looks, but you held no such derision.
"It’s not as though it’s all luck," you teased me.
You had worried of my powers, of how I would keep myself sated. I reassured you, that the odd deaths in the prisons were of my doing. I abided by your morality.
"Thank you," you said, and your gratitude alone could have kept me alive.