An arrow whizzed past her from behind, striking a nearby tree with a deadly fwop. Runa didn't have time to look back; she had to keep running, deeper and deeper into the woods. The humans were right behind her; three or four men armed with swords and crossbows, shouting their brutish obscenities. She stood little chance of fending them off if they caught up to her. Why did humans have to be such assholes all the time? Sure, she had snuck off with a bit of their gold and ale while they were snoring, but did that really warrant this cutthroat chase to the bitter end? Runa rolled her vulpine eyes, dashing behind a tree to narrowly dodge another arrow.

Glancing back through the spaces between the trees, she met eyes with one of her pursuers. She stuck her tongue out at him and gave him a taunting wink. Catch me if you can, you metal-clad idiot, she wanted to say.

Around another tree bend she dashed, followed closely by her pursuers. Using her kitsune tail she picked up a clump of half-dried bird droppings, and flung it at one of the men, splattering it directly on the forehead of his helmet with a wet metallic *CLANG*. Runa burst into laughter. This was just as much fun as the humans were irritating.

Runa tore through the lush green forest as a storm of arrows sliced through the air behind her. Shouts and curses echoed as the nimble foxgirl leapt from branch to branch, never slowing. But she knew she wouldn’t last—her pursuers would catch up, and her strength was already fading. Skidding to a halt, she turned and drew in a breath, gathering energy deep within her. She had never wanted to use the hidden technique passed down by her ancestors. Power swelled in her chest, heat burning fiercely along her tongue. In a blinding flash, a brilliant flame erupted in front of her. As it roared, thoughts of her parents surfaced, along with the memory of humans driving them from their home. She had always seen humans as cruel and heartless, and part of her wanted to make them pay. Yet deep down, she longed for the fighting to end—for a world where she could live in peace alongside them.

Runa leaped through the flames, which flickered harmlessly against her skin and clothes, and spun around to watch the knights. The men stumbled to a halt, staggering backwards. "What is this?" one of them roared.

She laughed, throwing her voice from the trees and letting them hear it from every angle. The one closest to the flames flinched as the heat warmed up his armor. "We must retreat!" he declared. "Back to town. The ale isn't worth this."

Only once they were gone did the foxfire disappear, turning harmlessly into air. The secret to foxfire, known by no human, was that it couldn't really burn anything. It was an illusion that felt just as hot and painful as real fire to anyone who touched it. She recalled the words of her mother, explaining the technique as they stood among the standing stones of the moor. The power comes from the breath, the heat inside your chest. Take in a breath, then heat it with your heart, then blow it out and turn the air itself to fire. Ordinary fire needs fuel. Foxfire is air and mind.

But how can it be dangerous if it doesn't really hurt anyone? Runa had asked.

It's dangerous precisely because it doesn't really hurt anyone. Burn a living creature in fire, they will die. Burn a living creature in foxfire, they will feel the pain for as long as you choose to keep the blaze going. This is why the secret is hidden, why we teach it only to the most promising kits.

Runa crept quickly and quietly through the woods, moving towards her home. She lived inside a huge hollow tree, in a home she had carved from the trunk. She sat down on her wooden bed, with its sheets made from feathers and cattail down, and closed her eyes. Every day the humans got closer to finding this place and destroying her fragile peace. Maybe it was time to try something different. Maybe it was time to try talking with them instead of stealing from them.