It is the first time in many years that Zaniel is venturing into this part of the woods on his own. Heart beating in his throat, he looks back over his shoulder at the house of his protector. Occupied with another woman. He can still hear their grunts and moans from here. Good, he thinks to himself. He will not go far; he just wants to know if the Yokai is out here, in the woods. Yokai do not often venture close to the house. If Zaniel is to find her again, he is certain that he must seek her out. The stick is for his own safety. The largest he could find, with a sharp point at the end for defence, and a wide girth in the middle should a demon try to tackle and bite him. A trick he picked up when he first discovered these woods. Worst-case scenario, a heavy stick to the head will shock and return him to the safety of his own bed. He hopes the tricks of the trade when it comes to dealing with certain demons still work. He still remembers their weaknesses, their flaws. Ever since Akki gave him the bracelets, however, the yokai in these parts have mostly left him alone. All they need to see are the young man’s wrists, or recognize his bright silvery eyes, and they often turn away and ignore him completely. Still, better safe than sorry. It is the new creatures that are dangerous. And, as the other day had proven, there are always new creatures about.

Zaniel finds himself heading toward a wall of darkness. Here, he cannot even see the trees on either side of the dirt path. He looks back over his shoulder once more; Akki’s house is still visible, a shadow in a crimson backdrop beyond the trees. The blackness is only here, in front of him, blocking the way. Zaniel’s face does not show fear or concern; in fact, this is what he has been preparing for. He takes the stick and sweeps it along the ground in front of him in long, slow movements.

“Stop that,” says a deep voice.

Zaniel does not stop. He bows forward and sweeps again, making grander motions with his arm.

“Please stop that,” says the voice again.

Ignoring the voice, Zaniel makes one more sweeping gesture.

“All right, that’s enough,” says the voice. High above, Zaniel sees a bulging wet eye appear. It opens, blinks a few times, then swivels round and round until it points back down at him. “If you won’t stop, I’ll just have to move.”

“That’s the idea,” says Zaniel.

“Hmph,” says the voice. “You could have just said ‘excuse me,’ you know.”